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墨書 Inktalez
The smell of disinfectant in the hospital was like invisible tendrils, creeping into my nostrils and stimulating my nerves. I was carefully hiding a sharp fruit knife in my sleeve, my heart a tumult of emotions. Zhang Dequan's ward was at the end of the corridor, so quiet that only the occasional footsteps and the rapid beating of my own heart could be heard. Sunlight stubbornly leaked through the slats of the blinds, forming golden beams that fell on his swollen face, the light crawling over his skin like a golden centipede.
"Nurse Xia smells particularly nice today," Zhang Dequan's thick laughter rolled from his throat, a sound that sent chills down my spine. His hefty palm slapped heavily against the edge of the bed, as if to assert his presence. I pretended to bend down to adjust the IV line, masking my inner turmoil. The moment his fingertip brushed against the back of my neck, my stomach lurched violently, the soy milk I had for breakfast rising in my throat with a sour taste that nearly made me gag.
At that moment, the red light of the surveillance camera suddenly went out, plunging everything into brief darkness. My heart tightened; I knew this was my best chance to act. I felt for the syringe hidden under the pillow; its cold touch made me both anxious and exhilarated. When the needle was just three centimeters from his carotid artery, a hand like an iron claw suddenly clamped down on my wrist. Zhang Dequan's eyes were clouded with yellow, and his mouth twisted into a sinister grin as he said, "Thirteenth one; did you think you could escape?"
In the next moment, I was dragged into the basement. The musty smell mixed with blood rushed into my nostrils like a tidal wave, nearly suffocating me. Looking down, I saw iron chains around my ankles had already rubbed raw, and the pain kept me alert. Scattered across the cement floor were twelve pairs of high heels, their tips stained with dark brown residue—remnants of previous victims. Zhang Dequan held a camera as he backed away; in its reflection, I saw the bruises around my neck—a rotting necklace that reminded me of my dire situation.
"This is Xiaomei; she came last winter," he said while stroking a nurse's cap inside a glass case, still stained with scabs as if it were Xiaomei's final cry for help. "Can you guess how many pieces her spine was broken into?" His voice dripped with mockery. A cold pair of tweezers pinched at the hospital bracelet on my wrist; the sound of metal clashing echoed in the empty room.
I bit down on my tongue to endure the pain while staring at the ventilation duct; blood trickled from the corner of my mouth onto my collarbone—a way to keep myself awake and alert. Zhang Dequan's breath brushed against my ear as he spoke in a low, chilling tone: "They can’t wait to meet you; you'll be one of them." His fingers tangled in my hair and yanked hard; my head slammed against the display case, glass fracturing into a bloody web before my eyes—at that moment, I felt death closing in.
Just when despair nearly consumed me, I heard keys clattering above me—a sound like music from heaven. I curled up in the shadow of the display case, counting each footstep; every sound felt like a hammer striking my heart. On the twelfth step, an iron door creaked open slightly, moonlight spilling in and illuminating a toolbox in the corner—the jagged steel saw glinted coldly; it was my last hope.
When my fingers finally brushed against the sharp edge of the saw blade, suddenly, the basement lit up like day. Zhang Dequan's shadow engulfed an entire wall as he grinned widely while shaking his camcorder: "Almost forgot this; it needs to be recorded." The camera's red light swept over a framed photo atop the cabinet—there I was at twenty years old in a school uniform, wearing a faded daisy brooch on my chest—a reminder of my once innocent self.
In an instant, as the chains tightened around me, I heard a sickening crack as my left wrist bone shattered under pressure—the pain nearly made me faint. Zhang Dequan's shoes crunched over scattered high heels as moans from twelve girls surged from speakers all around—a sound like hell’s call. As he undid his belt buckle, metal clashed with static electricity creating a sharp buzz that tightened around my chest.
Blood dripped from my mouth onto the thirteenth pair of high heels when suddenly there was a heavy thud from above—the ventilation duct announced something had fallen. As Zhang Dequan turned around, I drove the saw blade into his ankle with all my strength. He screamed as he collapsed onto the glass case; twelve bloodied ID badges flew out from within it like pale butterflies heading toward a burning alcohol lamp—the flames seemed to judge him for his crimes.
The fire quickly engulfed his suit as he struggled within it. Dragging along with one severed wrist, I used every ounce of strength to crawl toward the iron door. Behind me came sounds of flesh sizzling and his hoarse curses—his voice like a demon’s whisper. When finally my fingertip touched the doorknob, an entire row of display cases suddenly collapsed; twelve glass jars rolled at my feet filled with formaldehyde solution floating with dismembered limbs—nightmares I could never forget.
I pushed open that door with all my might and escaped from that hellish place. Outside, sunlight bathed everything in warmth but left me feeling cold and terrified inside. I knew that this cost of survival was immense but finally escaping his grasp meant I was alive—and that alone was proof enough.
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