Chapter 8
1864words
"Police! Don't move! Put your hands up where I can see them!"
For a moment, I thought this was another one of Jason's tricks, actors he had hired to push this "performance" to its climax. My body was swaying from blood loss and extreme exhaustion, but survival instinct made me raise my hands high, those hands covered in sticky blood.
Then I saw the badges on their uniforms, and smelled the authentic scent of sweat and gunpowder mingling on their bodies. This wasn't an act. This was rescue.
Their eyes quickly scanned the entire room, immediately locking onto the source of all the chaos. One officer rushed toward Jason, who was wailing in a pool of blood, pressed his knee against his back, and with a click, handcuffed him. The other approached me cautiously, his voice slowing down, trying to comfort me, a victim clearly in a state of shock.
"Miss, you're safe now. We'll call an ambulance. Are you okay? Are you hurt?"
I opened my mouth, but couldn't make any sound. My throat was as dry and painful as if it had been rubbed with sandpaper. I just nodded mechanically, and then my gaze cut through the swaying figures, falling on my phone that I had dropped on the floor.
The screen was still lit. In that small glowing window, I saw a similar scene. The door to Sarah's dormitory had also been broken open, and several campus police rushed in, quickly subduing Mark who was still convulsing on the floor. A female officer wrapped a blanket around the shivering Sarah, comforting her in a gentle voice.
Two worlds, at the same moment, both saved by the order of reality.
My legs weakened, finally giving way as I collapsed to the ground. In the last second before I lost consciousness, I saw a medical staff rushing to me, placing an oxygen mask over my face. Cold oxygen flooded into my lungs, feeling like a drowning person finally breaking the surface of the water.
When I woke up again, I found myself lying in a hospital bed. There was a dull pain coming from the place on my wrist where Jason had stepped on it, wrapped with thick bandages. There was an abrasion on the inner side of my thigh, left when I tried to dodge the sofa. The air was filled with the smell of disinfectant, and the white ceiling hurt my eyes. Everything was unnervingly quiet, as if last night's life-and-death struggle had been just a long and distorted nightmare.
A nurse walked in and checked my vital signs. "How are you feeling, Emily?" her voice was gentle, "You're lucky, just some skin injuries and soft tissue contusions, no fractures. The police want to talk to you once your condition stabilizes."
"What about him?" I asked hoarsely, referring to Jason.
"The person who attacked you?" A flash of disgust crossed the nurse's face. "I heard that his femoral artery was ruptured, causing massive blood loss, but they managed to save him. He's now in the intensive care unit downstairs, with two police officers watching him. He won't be able to escape. You're safe now."
I nodded, and the biggest weight in my heart finally lifted. Then, I remembered another matter, something equally important and even more bizarre. My hand fumbled around on the bedside table until I finally found my phone.
I eagerly unlocked the screen. However, the screen was completely empty. There was no eerie movie player icon, no window that had allowed me to peek into and intervene in another world. I frantically searched through the list of applications on my phone, again and again, but that program called "The Last Night" had disappeared without a trace, as if it had never existed at all.
I opened my browser, trying to search for that familiar website, but only the cold words "404-Page Not Found" popped up on the screen. Comment function, bullet comments... everything had disappeared.
The connection with Sarah, as if cut by an invisible pair of scissors, was completely severed.
At that moment, what welled up in my heart wasn't relief, but an indescribable, enormous sense of loss. It felt as if a part of my body had been forcibly torn away. I didn't know how Sarah was doing, whether she was safe, whether she was also in a hospital, whether... she still remembered me. Me, the "commenter" who never truly appeared in her world, yet had fought alongside her.
We won this battle, but the cost was losing her forever.
"Is something wrong?" The nurse, noticing my agitated emotions, asked with concern.
I shook my head, slowly put down my phone, and buried my face in the pillow. Tears silently rolled down, soaking the white pillowcase. These were tears for Sarah, as well as for my own past, bizarre experience that had slipped away.
Weeks passed. Life, with an undeniable force, pulled everything back on track.
Jason, or rather his real name—Daniel Clarke, a network engineer in his thirties, was formally charged. The police found substantial evidence on his computer proving that he was the mastermind behind the illegal streaming program "The Last Night." He had severe paranoia and antisocial personality disorder, viewing himself as both judge and artist, while those he selected as targets were merely actors in his "artwork." I was chosen simply because I accidentally clicked on a link he had distributed on the dark web. And he was able to find my address because I foolishly used public Wi-Fi, allowing him to easily trace my IP address.
All mysteries had their answers, everything seemed so ordinary, ordinary to the point of being chilling. It turns out, the distance between hell and earth is merely separated by one wrong click.
The bloodstains in the apartment had long been cleaned by a professional cleaning company, and the broken furniture had all been replaced. Except for the newly installed, more secure security door, it was as if nothing had ever happened here.
But some things had indeed changed forever.
I no longer lock myself in my room, no longer wear headphones to shut out the entire world. I've begun to leave that tiny apartment, trying to engage with real people and events. In the past, I always felt that interacting with people was exhausting, and I preferred to seek false resonance in the virtual world. But that attack made me realize that when real danger strikes, the only thing you can grasp is a hand extended to you in reality.
In literature class, after class was over, I didn't immediately pack up and leave as usual, but instead walked over to a girl named Chloe who was sitting next to me.
"Hi," I began somewhat awkwardly, "I didn't quite understand what the professor mentioned about Faulkner's stream of consciousness technique. Could you explain it to me?"
Chloe was clearly surprised. She adjusted her glasses and looked at me, as if confirming I was actually talking to her. We had been sitting next to each other for almost a semester, but this was the first time I had initiated a conversation with her.
"Oh... of course." She paused for a moment before showing a friendly smile. "It's actually quite simple. You can think of it as... a person's thoughts presented directly like flowing water, without being organized. Full of various jumps, memories, and sensory impressions..."
We talked for a long time, from Faulkner to Hemingway, from class content to our favorite bands. I discovered that taking off my headphones, genuinely listening to a real person speaking in front of me, feeling the warmth in her voice and the kindness in her expressions, was such a warm and reassuring experience. It comforts the heart more than any likes or comments on the internet ever could.
Since then, I've started to actively participate in life. Chloe and I became friends; we went to the library together and drank coffee on the campus lawn. I joined the school's film club, no longer just a silent viewer, but someone who enthusiastically discussed plots and analyzed shots with everyone. My world was no longer limited to just a glowing screen; it became vibrant, noisy, filled with all kinds of voices and faces.
I still often think about Sarah. During a quiet afternoon, or in the dead of night, I can't help but wonder how she's doing in that world without me. Has she, like me, moved beyond the shadow of that nightmare? Has she also made new friends and started a new life?
I hope she's doing well. I hope she can be as strong and brave as she appeared in the movie at the end, always hopeful about life. She was the most unusual friend in my life, and also the bravest. We never met in person, didn't even know each other's real names, but we once entrusted our lives to each other. This connection, even if it has disappeared, is forever etched into my soul.
On a Friday night, I didn't attend any club activities and stayed alone in my apartment. I made a cup of hot cocoa, turned on the TV, and the news channel was broadcasting the evening news.
"……Local police announced today that a serial killer group that had been operating for two years has been successfully dismantled. The group specifically targeted young women living alone, using extremely cruel methods……"
The news anchor reported in a calm and objective tone, while the background showed several suspects with covered heads and handcuffs being pushed into police vehicles. They had various body shapes, looking just like ordinary pedestrians on the street.
I quietly watched the news, seeing the photos of the female victims flash across the screen. They were once vibrant lives with their own dreams and lives, but they withered away forever because of the malice of strangers. My experience wasn't an isolated case. In this world, there are always demons like Daniel Clarke hiding in dark corners, watching innocent people.
As the news report ended, the screen switched to the weather forecast.
I picked up the remote control and gently pressed the power button. The screen flickered once, then faded to darkness, reflecting my calm face.
I felt neither fear nor anger. My mind was completely at peace.
Because I knew that darkness would never completely disappear, but so what? I had learned how to light a lamp for myself in the darkness. I had gained friends and strength to protect myself in the real world.
I picked up my hot cocoa, walked to the window, and pulled open the curtains. Outside, the city lights merged into a warm sea of stars, peaceful and beautiful.
Tomorrow would be a new day. A day that belongs to me—real and brilliant.
