Chapter 165

Adam turned the diary to the back.

I sat back on the bed. There was a dirty mirror beside the toilet at the foot of the bed. It wasn't very bright. I looked at myself in the mirror, or my albino skin and hair, the blood vessels are shallow buried under the skin, my eyes are shining in the dark, so fuzzy to see really like a madman.

So I simply empty my heart and lie down on the hard bed for a sleep.

In the evening, Yvonne and I ended our confinement, of course, because I threatened the caretakers again.

We went to the canteen, the little girl has calmed down, and became the quiet thin little girl.

I rubbed her withered and knotted curls, and she bared her teeth to me.

It's good to be afraid of. For example, my dining plate contains the unique candy given by the canteen aunt.

It's said to be unique, but it's just the cheapest inferior fruit hard candy sold outside.

But in Arkham, it's a high-end snack.

So that group of madmen are not afraid of me, when I did not notice has been a large number of people.

Yvonne and DOM are puffing and banging and chewing my sugar. I felt a pang of heartache and rushed to protect my plate.

Gnawing at the dry bread, I asked Yvonne, "why is your baby so important?"

"Ah?" There was confusion in the little girl's eyes. DOM followed him foolishly.

Yvonne thought for a long time before he said intermittently: "that... That woman... She always stabs me secretly, and then gives my blood... Money? Then I'll inject. Shoot... Needles... Hallucinations. So I... I just... I cut her while she... She was hallucinating. I tucked her hair in, into the wall. "

When she said that, she responded and yelled at me: "doll! a doll! Grace! They took my doll! "

The crumbs from her mouth spouted out, and tears came into her eyes: "baby baby!"

I suddenly feel very sad, I guess she is still longing for that woman's company, what she really wants to shout is not the doll, but the mother.

She took the doll as her mother's stand in and accompanied her to wither in this white cage!

I couldn't bear to see the little girl crying pitifully, so I grabbed the rest of the candy and stuffed it into her. "Yvonne, don't cry. I promise you'll see your doll tonight! Come on, sugar

"That's fine." The little girl stopped crying immediately after taking the sugar, or her tears were taken back before they came out.

Half a sound before I react, that guy was cheating me to eat sugar. I feel angry and funny, but very distressed. Who said crazy people were stupid? They think they can be smarter than anyone.

The little girl saw my expression and thought I was in love with sugar, so she also threw a piece of sugar into my plate.

I really laughed this time.

Also like her, throw the sugar into her mouth and chew it with a click.

So she was more distressed, protecting the last few pieces of sugar, and refused to eat any more.

Adam closed his diary and finally found what he was looking for, doll.

Clown headless body lying on the floor, chest bulging Adam took out a look, the clown's chest stuffed with a doll.

This doll exudes an inexplicable breath, strange and terrible.

Adam closed his eyes and felt the doll carefully. There were countless terrible spirits on the doll. Maybe what happened to the akham madhouse?

Adam turned the diary to the last page, and he could see that it was written by a different person.

I was born in the most chaotic neighborhood in Gotham.

Who my dad is, whether he's alive or dead, even my mom doesn't know.

Maybe I'm just the product of my mother's mistake after taking drugs.

She is a lion trainer in the circus class and a girl standing on the street.

My mother is a lunatic, or, according to grace, a walking corpse.

Her soul had already flown away, leaving only an empty shell in this dirty world.

I think, my life, my existence is probably the most unimportant thing in her life.

My value to her is no different from a ball of waste paper or a small bottle cap, except to block the leader's harassment for her.

She was drunk most of the time, only sober a few times.

When she was sober, she was quite normal. She would scold and fry eggs for me, or bring back some roast chicken and beer from whom. She is crazy when she is drunk. Sometimes she takes me as her guests, sometimes she takes me as her addicted friend.

But no matter what she is, I love her. Because she's my mother.

Don't look down on mom, OK.

Whether it's a lunatic like me or a superhero, mom is special.

Especially in the eyes of children, mother is God.

So when she went crazy again, I ended her life. She was very calm and happy. She called my son for the first time.

I also helped her to kill the disgusting headmaster and give her the first big, numb thug... I began to wear strange clothes, dyed my hair and decided to be a clown.

Because the clown is the only one sober in those fifty-three cards.

I began to think, who built this city?

Who stipulated that there should be rich areas and slums?

Who maintains balance and order?

People living in this city turn a blind eye to these problems. They go to and from work, get drunk in a bar and go on the next day.

Day by day, year by year, again and again.

I began to ask my friends, and their answers were the same: "Hey, aren't you crazy?"

"Who cares about this? We certainly can't manage it anyway."

"Brother, are you short of wine?"

"Hey, he's crazy."

So I know that I may be the only one who thinks about these problems, the only one who is sober.

Since I can't wake them up, it's better to break the balance.

After the collapse of order, the protagonist behind the scenes will appear, and then everything will come to light. Just like if the rabbit climbs out of the hat, the magician will show up, put it back in the hat, and prepare for the next performance······

Then I came to the Arkham madhouse. I've rarely heard of it before.

It's in the remote suburbs, away from the hustle and bustle of the city.

It's holding a bunch of lunatics.

But when I really got to Arkham, I found that it completely overturned my world view.

I became an Arkham, and I got used to it.

What can't kill you will make you strange, but habit, it is also a terrible thing, it will make you a willing fool.

I've been assimilated by Akam and integrated with the people here.

I also met a woman I'll never forget - Grace Ackerman.

At first sight, she was standing in the crowd, but out of place.

Not only because of her charming charm, but also because of her skin color.

She may have had albinism before, from hair to skin is not a white.

So I approached her and saw her face.

She is not good-looking, at most, pretty, but her temperament is a kind of magic that can make people ignore her appearance and look directly at her soul.

Therefore, if she insists on classification, she will definitely be classified into the category of beauty. No, she has to be further classified.

Because those women with empty appearance will only look like a straw bag standing beside her.

There are many good-looking ones, but few with souls.

But then I really realized what the snake and scorpion beauty was.

Grace Ackerman is such a bad person.

But she always sticks to the tradition of the older generation.

Finally, she and I

The diary ends here. There are not all the things in the diary, but it also tells Adam who its owner is.