The night is noisy and lively. Gusts of cold wind quickly sweep all the noise into the endless darkness. A subtle coldness and tranquility is fostered amid the hustle and bustle of people, as if a giant beast is hiding its figure in the night.
On the roadside, red neon lights emit a faint halo, which is closely intertwined with the night sky, creating a dark red halo that flows like a river on the faces of passers-by, illuminating the devil's profile.
Little by little, Wallace's figure was outlined.
Then, Wallace raised his head, bathed in the neon light, sadness and confusion written in his eyes, just like "Carrie" bathing in blood, and there was a hint of madness in his desperate struggle, reflecting the bloody light and shadow.
Huh!
In an instant, Kirk's heart was grabbed and squeezed hard.
Blood!
For a moment, Kirk couldn't tell accurately whether it was real blood plasma or the luster of red neon projected on the thick liquid.
Huh!
Kirk threw the pizza he was eating back into the box and was about to open the car door and move forward, not hesitating to expose his whereabouts.
But just as his fingers grasped the handle, he saw Wallace stand up.
Is that... a golden retriever?
Wallace held a large golden retriever in his arms. The front half of the dog was covered in blood. It had its eyes tightly closed and was dying. It seemed that one could see the breath of life slowly fading away.
Car accident? Abuse?
Golden Retriever!
It’s actually a golden retriever!
I don't know where the golden retriever came from.
It was a false alarm.
Kirk couldn't help but lean back in his chair and let out a long breath. It seemed that he had been thinking about the case over and over in his mind, and he couldn't help but make a fuss about small things. He was startled by small things and completely forgot that this was in public, and Wallace should not be prepared to perform a live murder.
Fortunately, it's only temporary.
Kirk then looked at the rearview mirror again, fixed his eyes on Wallace. His chaotic mood slowly settled down, and he couldn't help but fall into sadness.
Wallace's eyes were filled with helplessness, anger, anxiety and confusion. He stood there in a daze for a moment, as if he had lost his direction.
"Help!"
Wallace shouted loudly, and one could feel the mixed emotions in his slightly trembling voice, which was faintly tinged with a hint of despair.
Maybe, it’s just a golden retriever, but it’s also a life.
"Anyone, help!"
Wallace looked blankly at the pedestrians coming and going in front of him. Red neon lights poured down on him like a waterfall. He was bathed in blood. His expression could not be seen clearly on the faces hidden in the dark shadows, but he seemed to be able to feel the breath of death spreading around him.
In the rearview mirror, through the hazy light, you can see the blood slowly seeping through the golden retriever's hair. Those messy, mottled and dirty hairs faintly record the suffering and struggle of being displaced. The loss of vitality is like quicksand through fingers that cannot be caught.
Wallace's sadness flickers in the neon lights.
At this moment, in this short moment, one can see the negative emotions of anger and blood in Wallace, baring fangs and claws in the blood; but the sadness and bitterness behind the darkness, trembling alone in the cold wind, the noise coming and going never stops.
I can't bear it.
Just as Kirk was about to get out of the car to help, a pedestrian finally stopped -
A young couple.
After a flurry of chattering and without time to understand the situation, the two men helped Wallace move quickly towards the corner of the street. Judging from the few words they heard, there was an animal hospital at the corner that should be able to provide some help, so the three of them started to jog.
It was bumpy and chaotic.
Turning around, the figures of the three people were swallowed up by the dim flickering neon lights. Only the clumsy and nervous outlines of the three people could be outlined in the night, and they were gradually moving away.
However.
Just as they were about to leave the sight, the three people rushed into a ball of white light. A gust of wind mixed with brilliant light burst out, and in the blink of an eye, they disappeared into the building.
All that’s left is to wait.
Kirk looked at the animal hospital that was filled with white light and looked like the entrance to another world. His chaotic thoughts slowly settled in the colorful neon lights and chaotic night.
Could it be that his judgment was wrong? Was he blinded by his own prejudice and stubbornness?
From the sunny and bright attitude when they first met to his patience and friendliness towards customers to his compassion when saving the homeless, Wallace shines with the light of humanity.
Perhaps Wallace had his own wounds, but he chose a positive and sunny way to face, heal and reconcile.
Of course, Kirk can continue to insist that all of this is a mask, a performance, and a shell. Cold-blooded serial killers can also love animals. Not all serial killers like to abuse animals, and not all serial killers are necessarily gloomy and lonely. Everything can be explained.
But where is the evidence?
Whether it is news or a case, they should trust their intuition, but the end of intuition should be the truth, which ultimately needs to be supported by evidence.
Continue to doubt Wallace?
It's not impossible.
But Kirk needed more proof than a list of Wallace's appearances as a volunteer at a Senate soup kitchen.
Far from enough.
Adrian was right about that.
Kirk was a little shaken.
Picking up the pizza again and filling his entire mouth, Kirk chewed slowly, letting the thoughts run wild in his mind.
Then they reappeared in view.
From a distance, I couldn't see their expressions or lip movements clearly, but the body language of the three people bathed in the incandescent light revealed a sense of lightness.
Not a hug, but a high five.
Just a small movement can make you feel the joy and happiness radiating from the inside out.
It seems that it should be good news.
The three young men stood at the door of the animal hospital and talked briefly. It was obvious that they were laughing at each other and their mood was high.
Then, after thanking each other and saying goodbye, the young couple turned around and walked away.
The incandescent light behind him could capture the bright and light upward curve of Wallace's mouth. After watching the young couple leave, he also prepared to leave.
He took less than two steps but stopped again, looked down at his bloodstained grey hoodie, feeling somewhat helpless.
A black man, wearing something like this, riding the subway?
If you use your toes to think about it, you will know that it is just yellow mud falling into the crotch of your pants. It can be either that or that. No matter how many mouths you have, you can't explain it clearly.
What's more, it was night time.
Without hesitation, Wallace took off his hoodie and wore only a white short-sleeved shirt underneath and a thin jacket outside.
Then Wallace picked up the hoodie, brought it close to his nose and sniffed it, as if he was testing the concentration of the bloody smell.
Finally, Wallace buried his entire face in his hoodie.
Take a deep breath.
Take a deep, deep breath.