From Flower Vase to Film Emperor in Hollywood

Bang, a punch.

Heh heh, Tommy laughed, as expected, just a showy display with no substance, and he actually thought he could protect Kayla.

Bang, another punch.

Tommy didn't dodge, getting hit squarely, but he grinned, seemingly inviting Evan's fist to hit harder, more violently.

Evan noticed this, their eyes meeting briefly.

Then.

In Tommy's eyes, Evan saw madness, a devilish, twisted smile, bloodlust spreading, mocking his cowardice and fear.

In Evan's eyes, Tommy saw shock, which made him sneer, so this was the man who claimed he wanted to protect Kayla.

Even in hell, he wouldn't let go.

That light sentence, devoid of any strength, pushed his mad obsession to the extreme in his twisted face, finally turning into a smile.

Ha, hahaha.

Evan saw a demon in those eyes—

His fist, raised high, came crashing down.

However, it still couldn't erase the madness and bloodlust on the demon's face.

"Ha, you can't..." Tommy said.

His fist came crashing down again, interrupting Tommy, trying to shut him up, he just wanted him to shut up.

Tommy refused, "I bet you don't dare..."

The words, mixed with the stench of blood, came at him, constantly provoking his nerves, pushing Evan closer and closer to the edge of losing control.

A punch, then another, and another.

Finally!

Tommy stopped talking.

Evan panted, his fist raised high again, but he slammed on the brakes before swinging, barely managing to control himself, his scalding brain a chaotic mess, his chest heaving, his eyes fixed on Tommy.

Tommy didn't resist anymore, seemingly finally quiet.

Evan thought, maybe he should stop.

However.

Just then, Tommy barely opened his swollen eyes, a smile spreading across his blood-soaked face, seemingly mocking Evan's incompetence.

Contempt. Disdain. Scorn.

Condescendingly, a faint glimmer of light shone from the slits of his eyes, piercing Evan's soul like a sharp needle, that blood-soaked voice surging amidst Evan's panting:

You, cannot protect her.

Memories, a flood of them, surged forth, the painful memories from before history was changed gripping Evan's throat—

Back then, he missed Kayla like this, so much so that Kayla chose to end her own life; he would never know what her father, her brother, did to her; what scars were left in her childhood memories that she had to use her life to forget.

The string of reason snapped.

The fist that had been loosened a second ago clenched again involuntarily, the anger and pain, bitterness and struggle deep in his soul erupting with unbelievable energy, slamming down hard on that twisted smile.

Bang.

"You ruined Lanny's life."

Bang.

"You killed Crockett."

Bang.

"You murdered that woman and her child."

Then, his fist paused, raised high, looking at the smile blooming on Tommy's blood-soaked face, triumphant, ferocious, arrogant, as if looking down on him with contempt, his mind filled with nothing but a roaring sound.

Gritting his teeth, the words squeezed out from between his teeth.

"Now,"

"You're trying to kill me, trying to destroy Kayla, you're trying to destroy us."

The anger in his eyes turned into tears in his chest, falling down one by one, but they were instantly replaced by madness, as if he could see the wings of a dark angel blocking the last ray of light.

"Ah!"

Evan grabbed the baseball bat and smashed it down in a frenzy.

The world finally fell silent.

Kayla rushed back, her heart pounding in her throat, muttering, "Tommy, Tommy, Tommy..."

She was afraid Tommy would do something stupid.

But at the moment of slamming on the brakes, she saw Evan's baseball bat crashing down, her eyes wide, her knees weak, and she collapsed.

Staring dumbfounded at the scene before her.

She tried to open her mouth, tried to speak, but her throat was completely silent—

Ee ah. Ee ah.

Like a baby.

The sirens of the police car gradually approached, and the whole world seemed to be in slow motion, everything moving in slow motion.

Evan took a deep breath, looking down from above at the pile of rotten flesh on the ground, his shoulders high but not lowered, the tight lines of his muscles showing that he was holding his breath, his eyes blank.

Dumbfounded, he just stared blankly at Tommy lying flat in front of him without any movement or reaction, as if he didn't understand what had happened.

Then.

He raised his head, blood splattered on his cheeks, dyeing his pupils red, and the scattered focus reassembled amidst the lights of the sirens all over the sky, and he subconsciously looked down at his hands, and was suddenly stunned.

The night, only the wind was blowing, the moonlight shining down, wrapping Evan up, the hazy light sliding down Evan's body like fresh blood.

For a moment, a turbid tear escaped the restraint of his eye socket and slipped down.

"Cut."

It wasn't until Mackie finally came back to his senses and shouted, but he didn't release himself, he couldn't even move, he just sat there stiffly.

The whole place was silent, completely losing the ability to react.

A cold wind blew, and the goosebumps all over his body screamed madly, his thoughts finally reacting, trying to do something, but he found his brain blank, and even the screams and cheers were all stuck in his throat.

Shock, impact, agitation.

Language is simply not enough to describe even a fraction of the mood and feelings at this moment, even if you see it with your own eyes, you still can't believe your eyes.

Drama, conflict, tension.

It's not just the plot, they can clearly see the struggles of three characters, three souls, each with their own despair, but converging at such a point in time, heading towards the tragedy of fate in different ways—

There is no winner.

Regardless of whether they take action or shed blood, everyone is scarred.

They seem to be able to see the whole process of the soul withering and dimming, but no one can stop it, not even a sound can be made.

That kind of despair. That kind of pain.

Even if they are just bystanders, they are just as exhausted, feeling the sigh and helplessness from the depths of their souls, the lingering fatigue, drowning little by little, suffocating little by little, watching themselves turn to ashes.

Everything, not only is complete, not only is real, but it is also full of impact.

Even after filming, they still can't extricate themselves.

Mackie noticed that even after shouting 'Cut,' the crew was still not moving; but he really didn't have the energy or ability to pay attention to others now, the storm in his mind made him severely hypoxic and unable to breathe.

So, Mackie shouted again—

"Cut."

It's over, everything is over, the magic is lifted, they need to return to reality, they need to escape from the endless quagmire of despair, they need to breathe.

Then, finally, panting heavily, taking big breaths.