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The way the woman spoke was strange, as if she was singing an elegant opera, but neither her current posture nor the content of her mouth had anything to do with elegance.

My palms hurt and itched, and I stood in the ditch for more than ten seconds, not daring to approach this woman.

It’s hard to imagine that I would be frightened by a woman who had lost the ability to move.

Frankly speaking, the woman in the corner was of average-to-upper-average appearance, with delicate facial features, and her body was very clean. She just exuded a strong smell of blood, and her skin was sickly pale.

It's very tender, not the kind of watery tenderness, it just feels like a thin layer, as if you can splatter blood with just a finger prick.

I hesitated for a long time, but still didn't get out of the ditch. There was no place to stay in the cell.

Except for the woman herself, the ground, walls, and roof were all covered with paintings. Some of the ferocious patterns still looked fresh, and they should have been painted not long ago.

"Can you understand what I'm saying?" After thinking for a long time, the moment I saw the woman, I didn't know what to ask, or there were so many things to ask that I didn't know where to start.

The woman kept staring at me, her expression was very strange, her face was clearly stained with tears, but she was lying in a painting painted with blood as if she was enjoying herself.

"Can you hear my voice?" Still no response, I walked along the ditch to the wall, and walked towards the woman while trying not to destroy the bloodstain pattern.

The closer you get, the more you feel that there is a huge secret hidden in the woman.

"I won't hurt you."

When she noticed someone coming, her reaction was very special, her expression did not change significantly, and there was a flattering smile on her lips, like a dancer in a nightclub.

But contrary to her expression, it was her body's reaction. She closed her legs, shrank back, and the chain was straightened.

She was smiling flatteringly, but there were tears in her eyes.

I read that right, these two completely different emotions appear in the same person.

It was obvious that she was afraid, she was afraid of being violated, she was afraid of being hurt, but why did she show such a mean smile?

I seemed to see the shadow of another woman in her body - Jiang Shihan.

"Sorry, I don't mean any harm." Back into the ditch, I put the woman aside and looked at the paintings in the cell.

These patterns painted with blood are very abstract, and some have dried up into crimson blood stains on the walls, making it impossible to see anything.

"These paintings are similar to those in Jiang Shihan's ward, but they are too messy to read." The woman didn't know how long she had been locked up here. The walls were painted layer after layer, as if they were painted with blood, which was the only thing she could do. Things to do.

I walked to the other side of the ditch, and just as I was about to take down the iron bars leading to the next room, the woman suddenly shouted: "Son!"

"What did you just say?"

She pointed to a painting that was almost stepped on and repeated: "Son!"

"Is this painting your son?" I stopped what I was doing and squatted on the ground to find the place where the woman's finger was among the complicated patterns.

The bloodstain was so blurry that you couldn't find it unless you looked carefully.

There is a little man in a skirt surrounded by three circles of different sizes.

The circles are also marked with serial numbers: boss, second, and third.

The painting appears like a point, with it as the center, around which all the paintings in the room seem to revolve.

"The three circles represent three children respectively, so the little person in the skirt should be herself."

Continuing to look along the pattern, next to their family there is a ferocious little man with holes dug by his fingernails.

"A mother has three children, so the person next to her should be the father."

In women's paintings, the figure of the father is always covered with scars and pits, which were dug by women with their fingernails or even bitten with their mouths.

It can be seen from this that the woman hates this man deeply.

"How much hatred is there?"

The next painting just answered my question. Men often use violence against other people in the family, and neither children nor women escape his vicious hands.

Later, for unknown reasons, the man tied the woman with a rope and locked her in the attic, and forcibly separated the mother and son.

The man in the painting seems to be an extremely twisted pervert. He is not only satisfied with physical torture, but also likes to torture a person's soul mentally.

For example, restricting the mother's movements, and then forcing her to watch her children being bullied and beaten, and doing all kinds of heinous things.

His favorite thing is to force the other person to act according to his own wishes when a person is in pain and despair, making the other person even more tortured and sad, and finally become mentally overwhelmed and become foolish and foolish.

Most of the pictures describe men's atrocities. The father in the picture uses vicious and cruel torture methods, and does not regard the woman and three children as human beings at all.

Later, the man became even more violent, even recording the entire torture process and watching it over and over again when nothing happened.

Until one day, the woman wearing a skirt in the painting broke away from the rope. She seemed to be preparing to call the police, but she didn't know that all this was deliberately designed by the man. The man was no longer satisfied with the torture of submission, and he wanted to try something newer. Stuff like pretending to give hope before kicking it into a darker abyss.

The man ignored the woman's pleas and killed the youngest child in front of her.

Later, the woman in a trance was locked in a box and became a man's private plaything.

After seeing this picture, I clenched my teeth unconsciously.

That man is worse than a beast. If I can catch him, I will try to inflict on him the same pain he inflicted on others.

After a few minutes, I calmed down and looked at the woman: "Are you drawing your own story?"

The woman still didn't answer directly. She smiled flatteringly, but her tears couldn't stop flowing down, her lips were blue, and she kept repeating those words: "I am a gift, I am a bitch, I am Satan's woman."

Most of the paintings on the floor and walls tell the women's own stories, but they are also interspersed with scenes of other people being killed.

It feels like there are not just one or two murderers, and their purpose of killing is not for wealth and sex, but simply to pursue a kind of psychological comfort.

"A bunch of lunatics!"

After I read it all, I stood in the room. The woman was crazy, but a lot of information was revealed from her. At least she was the only informed adult in these cells.

Slowly approaching the woman, she was wearing a hospital gown. The clothes were dirty, but her skin was very clean, exuding a kind of morbid beauty.

I squatted next to her and touched the chains lightly. I didn't know how long she had been locked up here. The rough chains wore the flesh apart and then grew together with the healed flesh. It looked particularly scary.

"She is imprisoned in such a poor environment, but her skin is surprisingly clean. Will anyone clean her regularly? The woman said that she is a gift, a woman of Satan. Is it possible that the Satan she refers to is herself? s husband?"

In the painting, she has three children. When I met Song Xiaofeng in the cell, I happened to hear him say that they were three brothers. Is there some connection between them?

I stood in front of the woman, looked at her trembling body, and stared into her eyes: "I met two children in the adjacent cell. They were named Song Xiaowang and Song Xiaofeng. It is said that they also have a younger brother named Song Xiaoyao. "

At this point, the flattering smile on the woman's face froze.

I noticed a change in the woman's demeanor and said while the iron was hot: "I heard their mother's name is Wang Fengyao."

As soon as Wang Fengyao said the three words, the smile on the woman's face disappeared, replaced by ferociousness and pain, and her eyes were bloodshot.

"Did you remember anything? The three children were waiting for their mother to come back. They all thought their mother was dead."

"Shut up!" A strange man's voice suddenly came from the woman's mouth. I was startled, and then the woman began to bang her head against the ground crazily. She used all her strength, as if to remove the things in her head. It was like being thrown out, and soon bright red blood started to flow from his forehead.

"What are you doing?!" I quickly grabbed her shoulders and put my hand on her forehead.

The movement in the cell became louder and louder. About twenty seconds later, the sound of the iron door being opened came from the corridor outside, and someone was walking quickly towards the cell!