The Girl Who Spits Up Jewels

4-3

"It's late, silly"

When he heard a deafening laugh, Crewe woke up.

At the same time, learn that what you've been seeing was just a dream. It was an old memory in Crewe, an old dream. That must be because of where I lay. The floor, which smelled rough and dusty and scattered like sand, looked a lot like that place. Damn, I had a bad dream.

The talking is heard from the back. In an attempt to change my posture, I finally realized that I was tied behind my back. At the same time, the pain runs from the back of the neck to the back of the head.

Where am I? Why are you in such a dusty place? How did it happen to me? Rotate your thoughts around and finally remember. That's right.

I was seen throwing up stones. To a man I don't know.

I was struck in the back of the head shortly afterwards, and I don't remember the rest. Perhaps after that, he was transported to this uninspiring warehouse. Cold discomfort strokes the bottom of my belly.

"Evil, evil, you look like a cop. It took a lot of work to sprinkle."

Apparently, the kidnappers had just finally joined their people. Move the limbs that won't free you and manage to change your posture until the form the men enter into your sight. Three men. They have brown hair and one is black.

To the words of a man who seems to have just arrived, one of his companions - that man whose eyes met with her and a humble grin just before he lost his mind - frowns.

"Do you mean this place is broken?

"No, it feels like you're searching the whole city right now. Looks like this place hasn't broken yet. But it's only a matter of time before they notice..."

It was like a brown-haired man who came late now, and it was brunette who made eye contact with her just before her consciousness broke off. As a way to erase it, it was probably the other brown hair that hit Crewe and made him faint. They all had the same, sticky smile.

Looks like he's awake.

In response, three to six eyes look at her.

and.

- Come on.

……

My depths trembled at something.

Scared. But that's not fear of the men in front of you. Something more different, what's that? As Crewe was bewildered by his own fears of not being good enough, the man who was late sat in front of her and looked at her.

"You're gonna throw up gems, lady. Show me, too."

Deep brown eyes reflect her, and behind her belly her heart rings an alarm for something.

I didn't think the fact that I was kidnapped by these men was so horrible. If you don't get back to the store by the time it opens, you'll think the answering officer's nuts are weird. In that case, a report will go to the police station shortly. I was well aware of the good security of this city.

I knew it. - And yet she was afraid of something.

To what? I don't even know that.

The uncertain fear of who he was irritated me, and I said to him in a sense of eight hits.

"... Shut up"

"Wha!?

And cursing, being hit straight with malice, finally.

Crewe understood what he was frightened of right now. Men gabbing wildly while spitting in front of them. It is not in those in front of me that I am frightened.

The situation is very similar.

With that place where the older song was on top, wild, violent, and treated her like a bug or a pig.

Very similar. - I can see it on.

"... no"

It's not like that one I saw back in the day. There are no such men.

You can't be here!

Aware of his vision mixed with memories, he puts it out in his mouth to calm down and denies it. but

"Ahh!?

An excited man speaks up so loud and cancels his own words.

Disturbance and surprise arise in Crewe's heart from the man's shout. The confusion that began with surprise makes the waves a little higher if you don't swallow her reason.

No. - No, no, no, no, no!

I desperately bite my unmeshed teeth in an attempt to calm down. I scream in my heart. Those are - this is - not those men. Even though it's not those men who never thought of themselves as "keeping them"!

Although.

Once opened wounds do not know to close.

"Ahhh...... ahhh"

The emotions born grow rapidly. The wounds on the bottom of the belly tear even faster than reason forgives itself, grow larger, and soon become speechless. I don't even know how to scream. Saliva drips.

The men who 'mistakenly' thought she was frightened of herself make a dirty laugh. Even though I know it's different, that voice interacts with past memories and becomes the object of fear itself.

No, it's not.

A little remaining reason causes her to lift her neck and look around. Reason sounds the alarm "look for it". Find that man who helped me. Where? That one who stroked himself on the dirty floor, his flaky hair, his forehead. Who was that one who helped himself with his righteous face, his rambling tone, his thin arms? No, where? Where?

The confused brain thus creates one 'unlikely possibility' in her belly.

- Wasn't there someone like that from the beginning?

No way.

Breathe in with Hii. The smelly floor is the same as that one I remember.

No way. I don't think so. That guy and I did have a little jewelry store for two.

But the little doubt born eventually grows up and distorts his vision. That one. In front of me, those men who just changed their appearance are laughing inferiorly when they see themselves as narrow. A young man. Was there such a thing? Really. Something like a well done hero story (heroic fantasy) where a beautiful young man helps a dirty little girl wrapped around a pussy?

Spit it out. Hey, spit up! I feel dizzy when a mixed voice of laughter mixes with old memories in my head. Skip and connect old memories with current ones.

The faces of the young people who are supposed to live with them become obscure.

Was it all just a dream? Dreams. Just?

"I don't have a choice, dude, if you can't throw up, I'll help you...... heh!

――

The tip of a shoe that pops into your belly. The pain was definitely there.

A sense of grief and foreign matter that creeps up. Something rolled out of his choking throat made a noise and rolled the dirty floor.

"Look, it's like I said, right? This guy's gonna throw up, man. That's awesome."

"Oi, are you serious! Is this real?"

A man's hand stretched out to a gem, slightly lingering, her now wanting resistance to it.

Don't touch it. That's not yours.

But the words don't speak.

I have forgotten the words to answer the wound that asks who it belongs to.