Cure to My Wailing Heart Chapter 8

Mason just stood outside the elevator, staring at the jumping numbers on it, not knowing what to do.

Should I wait until Travis leaves before going down, or take another elevator down?

Should I make another call, or should I pursue him directly and ask what happened?

Or go back to the house?

No, why should he care about Travis?

A so-called boss, the kind who can fight with others on the trash can, what does it matter if his head is smashed... But why is he here?

Mason couldn't figure it out, but decided to stand here and go downstairs to eat after making sure Travis took it away.

The numbers on the elevator stopped at the eighth floor, and after a while continued to go down, while the numbers on the elevator next to it began to change, from the ninth floor to the eighth floor, and then went all the way up.

Mason suddenly became nervous, staring at the elevators going up one floor after another, and found a suitable position to kick. If it was Travis who came out of the elevator in a while, he could kick Travis back into the elevator.

The elevator never stopped, and it quickly reached his floor and opened the door.

Travis really walked out of the elevator.

However, Mason did not kick, because when Travis walked out, he had his hand on his forehead, and the blood that kept oozing out had blurred his left eye, making him look more than twenty times worse than before.

"How about you come here for a tour?" Mason was really speechless.

"A woman came in on the eighth floor," Travis said, "I'm afraid she won't be able to reach the second floor and scream."

"Then why..." Mason stared at his face.

"Open the door," Travis looked at him with one eye, "I need the medicine box."

"---..I don't have a medicine box." Mason said.

"Yes," Travis said, "In the small door of the TV cabinet."

Mason was stunned.

"I did it," Travis waved his hand, "Hurry up, my platelet count is low, I will bleed to death in front of your door in a moment, and Connor will call the police and say you killed me."

Mason didn't say anything or move, just stared at Travis's face.

I don’t know how big the wound on his head is, but I can see that the pressure from the palm did not stop the bleeding, and blood continued to seep out from under the palm.

"Why don't you go to the hospital?" Mason gritted his teeth, turned around and opened the door.

"Scared." Travis said.

Mason couldn't help but look back at him.

"Is it strange?" Travis said.

"Yes." Mason nodded.

"Then you are still afraid of mice." Travis sat on the chair.

Mason was stunned. Yes, he was afraid of mice, but how did Travis know?

"Open the cabinet door," Travis pointed at the TV cabinet, "Bring me the medicine box inside...can you open the cabinet door?"

Mason had already bent down to open the cabinet door. When he heard this, he immediately sat down on the chair next to him: "Sorry, I can't."

Travis didn't say anything. He stood up, opened the cabinet door, and took out a small medicine box.

When his hand left his forehead, two drops of blood fell on the floor.

Mason looked at the blood on his face and felt that this injury was not something he could just treat casually. However, he did not say anything. He sat there and watched Travis skillfully take out alcohol gauze and medical tape from the medicine box, and even a pair of scissors.

When Travis took off his coat and walked to the bathroom with these things, Mason couldn't help but said, "You can't use tap water to wash your wound."

"Well, use alcohol," Travis turned his head and looked at him, "You actually know this?"

"How about you sit down and hurt me for a while longer, which will last two hours," Mason said, "I hope I die from excessive blood loss."

Travis turned and went into the bathroom.

Considering that this house was now his territory, Mason hesitated for a few seconds and then followed to the bathroom door.

Travis didn't close the bathroom door. He stood in front of the mirror with his back to him. He raised his hand, took off his T-shirt and threw it aside.

Before Mason had time to see his figure clearly, he was already shocked by the scars on his body and could not think: "You..."

Travis had several large scars scattered across his back, one of which spanned the entire back from shoulder to waist, which was shocking.

"What?" Travis unscrewed the alcohol bottle and poured it directly onto his forehead.

"No...fcuk." Mason felt a pain in his forehead, but Travis's expression was calm, as if he was pouring a bottle of water.

Travis's operation was very rough. He cleaned the wound, poured medicine powder on it, pressed gauze on it and then applied adhesive strips. Every step made people feel that he was dealing with someone else's head, and that it had to be an enemy.

After quickly wrapping up the wound, Travis turned on the faucet, washed away the blood on his face and body, and then pulled a towel off the towel rack and wiped it.

That's my fcuking face towel!

Mason looked at him, speechless. After holding it in for a long time, he turned back to the living room, sat on the sofa, and lit a cigarette.

Shocked.

Travis came out of the bathroom and had already put on his T-shirt. When he was packing the medicine box and putting it back in the cabinet, Mason cleared his throat: "Don't put this here, take it away."

Travis looked at him, as if he didn't understand what he meant.

"This house has been rented to me," Mason said, "You can't leave your things here, right? If I'm not at home today, are you going to open the door and come in by yourself?"

"Yes." Travis said. His face, which had always been expressionless, finally changed. Although Mason was very surprised that he could actually have such an expression of "sorry".

"I didn't change the locks as required by the rental agreement," Mason said, "Can you please respect the tenants?"

"I'm sorry," Travis said, "I was a little anxious. I'm the closest to here, so I came over."

Mason was holding a cigarette in his mouth. He had been prepared for a big fight. Even if he didn't fight, he would at least say a few words. Now that Travis suddenly apologized so honestly and sincerely, he felt like he had stepped on empty air and suddenly didn't know what to say.

"I'm leaving." Travis said, put on his coat, carried the medicine box and walked towards the door.

"Oh," Mason responded, then thought about it and stopped him, "Hey."

"Huh?" Travis looked back.

"Let me ask you, just..." Mason pointed to the kitchen, "Is the gas stove working properly?"

"It's not only good, it's also new." Travis said.

"It...can't start." Mason said.

Travis put down the medicine box and walked into the kitchen, and then said in the kitchen: "Come here and show me how you inject."

Mason stubbed out his cigarette, stood up and went into the kitchen: "Can't you just give it a try?"

"No, I want to see," Travis said, "How did you do it? The new water heater can't release hot water, and the new gas stove can't start a fire."

Mason hesitated for a moment, then reached out and opened the gas valve.

"Yeah." Travis responded.

Mason reached out and turned the knob on the gas stove again.

Da da da da da---..

"Look." Mason pointed at the stove.

Travis took a breath, let it out slowly, and then grabbed his hand. Before Mason could take his hand out, his hand had already been pulled to the knob.

Mason frowned: "Just what you say..."

Travis didn't say anything, but grabbed his hand and pushed it down: "Do you understand?"

Mason felt the knob being pressed down.

"Twist it." Travis said.

Mason twisted it.

Da da da da... bang...

The flames burst out from the stove hole, two circles, small blue flames.

"Is your ID card real?" Travis took it out of the kitchen.

"What do you mean?" Mason turned off the fire.

"In the past twenty-seven years," Travis said, picking up the medicine box again and walking towards the door, "have you ever had someone help you take off your clothes when you go to bed?"

"fcuk you." Mason looked at him.

"The manuals for electrical appliances are all in the drawer of the TV cabinet," Travis opened the door, "just take a look if you don't understand how to use it."

Mason didn't say anything.

Travis took it away and closed the door.

The sound of the door closing was very gentle, much more civilized than the sound of Connor closing the door.

Mason sat back on the sofa, lit a cigarette again, and stared at the drawer of the TV cabinet for a long time.

When Travis returned home, there was an Audi with the engine turned off parked downstairs. According to his experience, the person sitting on it should be Connor.

Sure enough, when he was still a few meters away, the car door opened. Connor jumped out of the car and rushed to him in a few steps.

"What happened?" Connor stared at the gauze on his head, "Who did it? dmn it! Who did it!"

"I didn't see clearly." Travis said.

"Where did you meet?" Connor asked, "Why didn't you call me?"

"That side of the street," Travis frowned, "I didn't even see anyone clearly."

"Is it serious?" Connor asked.

"It's not serious," Travis walked into the corridor, "Go up to the parking space and block here to scold me. Aunt Wang threw a medicine can down later. You can repair the car with this month's salary."

Connor went to park the car, Travis went into the house, and checked in the mirror to see if the gauze patch was properly applied.

When he was applying the gauze, Mason was staring at him from behind. He felt a little uncomfortable being stared at, so he just wanted to finish it quickly and leave, so he basically just pressed it on randomly.

"Do you want to go to the hospital for your injury?" Connor parked the car and went into the house, placing a large bag of unknown things on the table. "What's the injury?"

"Brick," Travis took it to the table, "or knife."

"---.. Third brother," Connor looked at him, "these two things are quite different."

"I didn't even see anyone clearly, and it hurt me the first time." Travis sighed, "This person's attack was too dmn heavy."

"It's been so many years," Connor kicked the table, "They're still haunting us, and I don't know what they're trying to do! What do you think they want?"

"I don't know," Travis said, "let me never have peace."

"sh!t," Connor thought about it and moved closer to him, studying the gauze, "Did you go to the hospital... Wasn't this wrapped by the hospital? The craftsmanship is too poor, where did you get it wrapped?"

"Ji... Mason's place, I made it myself," Travis opened the bag and immediately smelled the aroma of dried beef, "You are so thoughtful."

"My aunt brought it, and almost all of it is here," Connor said, "enough for you to chew slowly for a while."

"Didn't your mother beat you?" Travis asked.

"She doesn't like these chewy foods," Connor looked at him, "Did you really go to Jaeger-LeCoultre to make them? How did you tell her?"

"I didn't say anything." Travis took out a piece of beef and ate it slowly, "I'm afraid it won't be too much trouble if someone bleeds all over and calls the police or something."

"Your blood clotting function is the same as your physical condition," Connor said, "You would be covered in blood by the time you got to him."

"It's OK. I pressed very hard, using 85% of my strength," Travis said. "I let go because he got startled suddenly. That's when the blood came out."

"You don't want to sneak into the house to bandage it, do you?" Connor was surprised.

"I thought he wasn't at home at the time," Travis sighed, "The agent said he was an artist. I didn't expect the artist to be so idle that he didn't even go to the studio to work on his art."

"I'm not saying anything, Third Brother," Connor looked at him for a long time and sighed, "but what you did was really inappropriate."

Travis said nothing and nodded.

It was rare for Connor to be so clear-headed, and he was very moved.

It was indeed inappropriate to run over like this today. It would have been like breaking into a private house. And even if Mason really had no problem...

"He must be on guard now," Connor continued, "it will probably be difficult for us to sneak in and look for clues."

Travis raised his head and looked at Connor.

"Do you think so?" Connor said.

"If I weren't so dmn afraid of my wound collapsing," Travis looked at him, "I really want to push you into the toilet and drink to your heart's content right now."

"Third brother," Connor looked helpless, "can't you just talk nicely?"

"Let me go," Travis patted him on the shoulder, "disappear within three seconds, or I will spray your blood all over you."

"I'm leaving now. I just came here to bring you beef. I have to park the car back at the store." Connor quickly walked to the door, took two steps and then stopped. "Is beef an irritant? Is it not good for wounds?"

"Get lost." Travis took a bite of beef.

"There is a bag of cat food down there," Connor said. "It's better not to eat with you. It will be salty and hair will fall off. It will be annoying."

"Can you still leave?" Travis looked at him.

Connor flashed out of the door.

Travis stood beside the table, slowly chewing the piece of beef, then took out the bag of cat food from the bottom of the bag and shook it at Miao who had been staring at his hand: "Want to eat?"

Meowed, very hard, very loudly.

Travis poured some cat food into its bowl, meowed over to sniff it, took a step back and sat down with some disgust, then raised its head and called out to him again.

"Eat it if you want to, forget it if you don't want to," Travis pointed at its nose, "A stray cat is picking up food."

Meow turned his head and looked at the bowl. He didn't eat, nor did he move. He just stood there firmly.

Travis ignored it and lay down on the sofa.

His head was a little swollen, and he didn't know if he had a concussion. He closed his eyes and pressed the gauze. The wound was still painful, with a dull ache and a stabbing pain. It was a complex pain.

I was probably distracted by this matter today.

He was not in a good mood when he came out of Building 1. It was probably because he couldn't sleep at night. Everything would remind him of many things. Once some feelings appeared, it was difficult to get rid of them, so that he didn't even know who was behind him. It's time to keep an eye on him.

I had no premonition, heard no sound, and saw no one.

It just hurts, and then everything goes black.

Very embarrassed.

The last time I was so embarrassed was two years ago... No, the last time I was so embarrassed was when I was fighting with Mason on the trash can...

He opened his eyes and looked at Meow, who was still on hunger strike in front of the food bowl: "Eat quickly. When you get fat, I will send you to Connor's place to make hot pot...Have you ever had hot pot? It's very good." Eat, it’s so delicious that you’ll be hungry just thinking about it.”

Mason wiped off the two drops of Travis's blood on the floor with a wet paper towel. He was not mysophobic, but he was still a little surprised when he saw not only blood stains on the paper towel, but also a patch of black ash.

The floor looked clean, but I didn't expect it to be so dirty!

But it's normal. After all, it was empty before, and Travis didn't change his shoes when he entered the room just now. He must have come here many times when he was bleeding... Thinking of this, he suddenly felt that there was probably a lot of dust everywhere in this room.

He tried to touch the table, and there was dust. The chair... had been sat on, and the bedside was also dusty.

The sofa didn't feel dusty because it was made of fabric.

Mason walked back and forth in and out of the room several times. It would take him a day or two to clean everything up based on his professional skills.

After pondering in the living room for a while, he took the key and went out.

Don’t clean up your sh!t anymore.

Let’s go eat.

It was still some time before dinner time, and Mason walked around the neighborhood but couldn't find the store he wanted to go into. Finally, he turned to the street where he had fought with Travis.

After all, he used to come here often and was used to the prosperity and hustle and bustle. He has been in a state of anxiety these days, and any familiarity would make him want to get closer.

Even though this place already has not very good memories for him.

There was a Starbucks in front, and Mason decided to go there to sit for a while and have something to eat.

There weren't many people in the store. When Mason finished ordering and was paying, he suddenly realized that he noticed the price on the back of the coffee for the first time.

Of course he had seen it before, but he had never felt it like this before. The price was suddenly no longer a simple number. This feeling immediately pulled him out of the little "familiarity" he had just gained.

Mason found a corner sofa and sat down. After taking two sips of coffee, he took out his phone, but after looking at it for a long time, he didn't know what to do, so he put the phone back in his pocket.

Although he didn't get up until the afternoon, maybe he was stretched all the time, so he actually fell asleep leaning on the sofa.

When I woke up, the coffee was cold.

Mason stood up and left with infinite admiration for himself.

He couldn't figure out how he could fall asleep anywhere and every time these days, but it was a decent sleep and he could go straight to a place to have dinner now.

Since he hadn't eaten well for several days and his stomach growled when he smelled something fragrant, he decided to eat hot pot. Right in front of him was the restaurant called Lao Pier where he and Bradley used to eat.

Thinking of Bradley, he frowned.

We have been friends for many years, but in the end they are not as good as Holden, whom we have only known for two or three years, and who is not even familiar at all.

He took out his cell phone and sent a message to Holden.

-Let’s go out for a meal tomorrow

-I have a business trip tomorrow, let’s go today

Holden replied very quickly.

Mason was stunned, glanced at the time on his phone, and sent another message to Holden.

-Old pier

- Arrive in half an hour

Mason smiled. He was suddenly filled with emotion at the fact that there was a person who wanted to have a meal like this at this time.

However, as soon as he reached the entrance of the old pier, he could no longer continue to sigh. A few people came from the opposite side and arrived at the store entrance at the same time as him.

When Mason wanted to turn around and leave, it was too late. Adrian called him, "Brother."

Mason looked at him, twitched the corner of his mouth, and said nothing. Looking at Bradley beside Adrian and several friends who used to eat, drink and have fun together, he seemed to have nothing to say.

He couldn't hide this kind of embarrassment. He didn't have Adrian's ability. He couldn't hide it even by saying "such a coincidence".

"Hey Xiaoke! What a coincidence!" Bradley walked up to him with a smile, "How about going together?"

"I... have eaten." Mason said.

"No way, I've already eaten at this time." Adrian said.

Mason looked at him without saying anything.

"Brother," Adrian smiled at him gently and flatteringly, "Let's have a meal together."

"No." Mason said.

"Hey, you," Bradley whispered, "don't you even give face to your own brother?"

What the hell is face?

Mason looked at his brother. His face had been smashed to pieces by the trash can in the past few days. No one gave him face, and he was too lazy to give face to anyone.

"Brother," Adrian took two steps towards him, "How about we..."

"Give it." Someone said next to him.

Mason took a step back, and the man suddenly stopped when he was between him and Adrian.

Mason glanced at the man's face.

...

A wounded man whose head had just been opened up actually came out to eat spicy hotpot?

"Eat?" Travis looked at him.

"Well, you..." Mason cleared his throat, "You want to eat too?"

"Ah." Travis looked behind him.

Mason saw a few young men following him, to be precise, young gangsters with an air of being about to go to jail.

The look in Adrian's eyes opposite him became somewhat complicated.

Mason could understand him very well. At this moment, Travis, with a piece of bloody gauze on his head and several younger brothers behind him, looked full of bully aura. It was impossible for Adrian and him in this life. The kind of person who intersects.

Travis turned to look at Adrian, then turned to look at him, hesitated for two seconds and asked: "Do you want to go in together?"

"Huh?" Mason looked at him and nodded quickly, "Okay."

Travis reached out and pulled Bradley aside, who was still looking confused: "Get out of the way."

Mason followed him into the restaurant.