“Come to room 306.”
What’s wrong with Frances Louis?
His wife’s here and he wants me to go to his room? Does he want his wife to slap me in the face?
Plus, I even don’t know where the hotel he lives is, how could I go?
“No.” I refuse him directly.
Soon, Frances Louis replies.
“If you don’t come, I will come to you.”
I ignore him and put my phone on the night table.
He doesn't know which hotel I'm staying in, I'm not afraid of him!
One minute later, there is a knock at the door.
I bounce out of bed and sit there quietly, not knowing what to do.
Damn it! Frances Louis must be staying in the same hotel with me. Or why he comes so fast?!
I dare not open the door.
No good could come of Frances Louis coming to see me himself. And he sounds angry in his previous
messages, which makes me more flurried.
The phone vibrates on the night table. I look at it and the message contain only three words, simple as
Frances Louis always does.
“Open the door.”
The bell rings only twice before it stops, but I know Frances Louis is still outside. I also know that if I
didn't open the door tonight, I would die.
Of course, I may also die even if I open the door.
After a period of hesitation, I put on my slippers and open the door.
Frances Louis walks in directly and sits on the bed.
The bed is soon tinged with red blood. I look at the snow-white sheets, crying in my heart.
How am I going to explain the blood on this bed to the hotel tomorrow?
Looking up through the bloodstain, I see a cut on Frances Louis’s wrist.
Not deep, but not shallow.
The blood keeps running down, making my heart tremble.
Then I remember the night I went to him, and his wrist was also injured.
“Autotomy or suicide?” I ask, frowning at him.
His eyes glance coldly over me, and he says lightly, “Neither. Bind up my wound.”
I have no tools.
But I can't watch his blood drain away like this. I must stop the bleeding first.
Stop bleeding?
Something flashes across my mind.
My menstruation is coming and I prepared something.
Frances Louis's face darkens as he looks at the menstrual pad on his wrist.
“Wait me here, I’ll go out to buy some gauze and iodine.”
I take the money out and buy gauze and iodophor at a nearby drugstore. When I come back, the pad
has already been full of blood. A light squeeze would make the blood run like water.
I carefully detoxify Frances Louis's wound with iodine and bandage it with gauze.
“Okay, you can go.”
I look at my bandaging with satisfaction, and say with relief to Frances Louis.
But he holds me in his arms and lie down on the bed, “I'm very tired," he whispers, “Let’s sleep.”
Then he closes his eyes.
I was always afraid that this beast, Frances Louis, would do something to me. After all, in the
afternoon, he tortured me for a long time because he would go on a business trip for a week.
But after a long while, Frances Louis does nothing.
His breathing gradually becomes even, and he seems to be asleep.
I am also very tired, but I dared not to sleep just now. When I let my guard down, The sleepiness rush
over me. I fall asleep in the arms of Frances Louis.
For such a long time, this is the best sleep I've had.
When I wake up, it’s eight o’clock in the morning and Frances Louis has left.
Steven Song texts me to eat on the second floor.
While I am washing, Steven Song comes and knocks on the door.
After he enters in, his eyes fall on the blood-stained sheets.
“You don’t have sanitary napkins?”
He asks me straightly.
It was the first time I had seen a man talk openly about it.
He thinks my menstruation comes, and I don't want to explain. I don't want him to know that Frances
Louis came last night.
To get to the second floor, I have to pass Room 306.
The door is open. Glancing in, I see Frances Louis zipping up his wife's dress. Then, I quickly withdraw
my gaze.
I have a guilty conscience.
But how dare he come to me since his wife is here?
And the wound in his wrist, what happened?
I don’t dare to ask, and I don't want to. I can’t inquire about Frances Louis. The more I know, the worse
it is for me.
At breakfast, I take out my phone and look through the album.
I took a lot of pictures on the show yesterday for inspiration.
Anyway, I'm going to make money as fast as I can. Then, I can get away from Frances Louis.
Speaking of the devil, Frances Louis and his wife arrive hand in hand, attracting a flood of admiring
glares.
Handsome man and pretty woman, just like a match made in heaven.
They stop at our table. His wife smile at Steven Song and says,
“Mr. Song, could we sit here?”
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