Who moved my novel?

I thought that the incident was over.

After all, life returned to its original state.

A lovely sister.

A mother who loves my sister.

A father who is busy every day.

Everything has returned to the original repetition.

The only difference is probably me.

"Why don't you paint anymore, Satan?" My father finally remembered me.

I was so happy that he didn't forget me and he knew I was painting.

"I don't have any inspiration recently." In fact, I don't want to paint anymore, but I don't have the courage to say it directly.

"No inspiration..." My father seemed very disappointed and muttered: "No more painting, no more painting, what should I do? Without the money from selling paintings, I have to work overtime every day this month."

So...you don't care about me at all?

Not me at all...

That day, I picked up the paintbrush again.

However, this time I didn't paint on paper, but on the wall.

"What are you doing!" Mom snatched the paintbrush away: "Why don't you just paint on the paper and waste paint here? Do you know how much money I've wasted on buying paint? I could have bought your sister an extra can of milk powder with that money!"

"Mom, I... I feel bad." How long have I not talked to her so seriously? Ten days? Half a month? Or a month?

"Feel bad? You still have the nerve to feel bad?" Mom pulled me up: "We have worked so hard to raise you for so many years, how could we raise such a waste like you? You are not good at studying, and you finally learned to paint, but now you are throwing a tantrum again, right?"

Mother looked so angry, that was real anger, without any adulteration.

"Mom..."

"Go back to your room and play! Don't come out if you have nothing to do!"

I remember that day, I remember that sentence.

Since then, I would not leave my room when I had nothing to do, because... at least this would make my mother a little happier... or, in other words, she would not be upset because of seeing me.

I don't know how I got through those six years.

I always thought it would be the darkest moment of my life, and I always naively thought that life would continue forever.

However, the facts proved that I was still expecting too much.

Obviously, I just pushed her gently to protect my beloved Bible.

Obviously, I just pushed her gently, without any force.

Obviously, she just fell to the ground.

Why?

I don’t understand why.

My sister fell in a pool of blood, and her head was hit and bleeding.

I don’t understand why my sister never came back.

That day, an uncle came.

He said he was the new owner of my house and wanted to take back the house.

"This is my home!" I swore loudly.

"This is my home!" The uncle slapped the book in his hand: "See? The property certificate! Kid, move all your things away and find your parents!"

"I won't leave, this is my home, I won't go anywhere!"

We quarreled for a long time, but fortunately the uncle didn't dare to really force it, and finally chose to call my father and mother.

"You jinx, get out of here!" This was the first thing my mother said when she saw me, and it was also the last thing I heard her say.

After that, she hid in the car downstairs, and I never saw her again.

"Your house is not good." Uncle was bargaining with my father.

"The house is fine, it's well decorated, with a full set of furniture." My father smiled, just like the expression he had to the doctor when my sister was hospitalized.

"Well decorated is well decorated, but what are those things painted in the room? They fill the whole room, is that where people live?"

Yes, he was referring to my room.

"Isn't it just some paintings? You paint it..." My father said and followed me into the room, but the next moment he was stunned.

Maybe he had never seen or even thought that my bedroom would be full of paintings of demons?

"Look, can people live here? Wouldn't a living person be scared to death if he lived here?!" The uncle seemed very angry.

"This..." Father thought for a while: "Actually, you don't know, this is exactly where we were before, come on, come on, take a look."

Finally, my father also knows how to introduce my medals to others.

"Look, these are all the awards won by this child. To be honest, my son can sell a lot of paintings for each painting. When he finishes painting, he may be able to sell it for more than the house."

"Did he paint this himself?" The uncle thought for a while thoughtfully: "It's not impossible, but it has to be cheaper. I have to let him live in the house while I wait for him to finish painting."

"Okay, then I'll give you 10,000!" Father gritted his teeth and made a concession.

Fortunately, fortunately, the uncle proposed the condition that I should finish painting, otherwise... otherwise I might end up on the street.

Life alone, unexpectedly, is not as sad as imagined.

Except...

"Gurgle~"

Alas, not being able to cook is really a big problem.

Although there are several hundred yuan of living expenses every month, that money is only enough to buy some raw materials.

"Knock, knock, knock!"

The person who broke my peace knocked on my door that day.

"Child, I see you live alone at home, and it seems that you don't eat well. I see you are losing weight recently."

It's the old lady next door. I have seen her.

"Come on, come on, freshly cooked dumplings, eat them quickly." The old lady was holding a plate of hot dumplings in her hand.

I remember that my parents told me not to eat anything given by strangers.

But...

"Thank you, grandma!"

I was really hungry.

"You're welcome, you're welcome." The old lady seemed very happy: "My grandson loves dumplings the most..."

Seeing me eating voraciously, she didn't forget to help me wipe the dumpling soup on my clothes.

"My grandson does this when he eats, too. Oh, I really want to wipe him again..."

That day, I learned that the old lady's grandson died in a car accident, and the murderer has not been found yet.

That day, I learned that my sister was sold by my parents!

It's not an exaggeration to say that she was sold.

It's just a compensation. How can you pretend not to see such a thing!

Hate it? Of course I hate it.

But what can I do? The police are unwilling to take care of things. What can I do as a teenager?

Maybe, for such things, we can only pray to the heavens to open their eyes and punish the unforgivable evildoers.

"Child, come to grandma's house to eat when you don't want to cook." The old lady seemed to have tears in her eyes when she left: "With you as a companion, I won't be so lonely."

I returned to the room and silently untied the rope hanging on the chandelier.

Since... there are still people who need me, then I will live a little longer...

Although, it will be painful.