amazing stories

Chapter 51 Imprisonment
For the first five years when he was imprisoned there, he was in a daze. Objectively speaking, it was not the walls and iron fences that imprisoned him, but his walking dead body first.But starting from the sixth year, he gradually showed signs of improvement, but those painful memories also woke up like worms, often making him cry in the middle of the night.There is not a day when he does not think of suicide, but he is often timid. It is not death that he is timid, but something else.In the eighth year, he managed to escape, and with a sliver of memory, he found the residential building and the dark green security door, but at this time he no longer had the key.He stood in front of the door for a while, and the past came again like billowing black smoke, forcing him to leave in a panic.He found a friend, who was surprised enough by his presence, but lent him some money, which he used to buy a few things he needed, the longest of which was a hardwood handle fruit knife.

Of course, I only found out about this later, and a small part of it is still the product of speculation, but I am sure that he did not use the fruit knife, and the terminally ill old man was strangled to death by his hands.I was the first policeman to the hospital.The old man was lying on the hospital bed, looking very peaceful, but the two black and purple spots on his neck seemed a bit abrupt.I found a white envelope and a photo in the old man's right hand. The photo showed a lonely anti-theft door. The house number was 428. There was a handwritten address on the back of the photo. Inside the envelope was an extremely short letter. Letter: After all these years, have you forgiven me?If yes, let me know.

Both the letter and the photo were brought by the murderer. The surveillance video in the ward made it very clear: he opened the door and came in, stood in front of the bed and talked with the old man for 10 minutes. Unfortunately, there was no sound in the video. What did they say for 10 minutes.But the murder started soon. I didn't see any struggle from the old man. After about 2 minutes of touching, he straightened up, took out the envelope and photos from his pocket, put them into the corpse's hand, and left the ward.

I hadn't learned the truth at the time, so the biggest feeling I felt about this murder at first was that it was bizarre: a middle-aged man with a beard broke into the single ward of the hospital, killed a terminally ill old man, and was still in his hands Leaving an inexplicable letter and a strange photo, this is too much like the plot in a Hollywood movie, why would he kill him?He was dying anyway.

I followed the address on the photo to find the door, knocked for a while, but there was no response, but a middle-aged man came out from next door.He angrily told me not to knock, because the house had long been unoccupied. "Both the woman and the child died, and the man has been sent to a mental hospital for seven or eight years," he said.I asked what happened. "What's going on?" He rolled his eyes and looked like he was about to close the door, so I showed my ID and urged him to talk to me whether he wanted to or not.

Two days later, when we caught the murderer, the man who went mad and hacked his wife and children to death was wandering by the moat. a sick fish.

I asked him why he killed the terminally ill old man.

"He agreed to it himself," he seemed to be defending himself, "I found him, and he agreed as soon as I talked about it. He said that he wanted to die a long time ago. If he didn't agree, I would go to someone else. "

"Why did you kill him?" I asked again with an emphasis.

He shrank timidly towards the back of the chair, still sounding like he was not answering the question: "I want to know if my wife can forgive me. If she forgives me, I can die in peace, so I won't be afraid of seeing her." .If she doesn't forgive, I have no choice but to live on and delay meeting her as much as possible. So I wrote her a letter specifically asking about this matter," he smiled at me like a normal person, "In this way, I just need a messenger."

(End of this chapter)