Humanity Forbidden Island, Part 1, Chapter 3: Memories of the Bloody Massacre

Chapter Three: Recalling the Bloody Massacre

I finally felt relieved, thinking her mother had told her about the secret deal at the grocery store that day. I asked her if she was afraid of me. She said, "No, my mother said you're a good person. You were very gentle with her that day, you didn't treat her like a lowly woman." It turned out the girl's mother had told her about that day. I asked the girl, "Will you hate me?" The girl shook her head and said, "No, you're a good person. I hate my father. When he loses gambling, he drinks and comes home to torment my mother or beat me." I didn't speak, but instead picked up a nut and carved words on it with a dagger.

She suddenly opened her eyes wide and said, "Can you kill my father? He always abuses my mother. Sometimes when he can't pay his gambling debts, he makes her sleep with those men. My mother initially refused, but later, unable to withstand the beatings, she gave in." Only then did I understand why the woman holding the cucumber had so many bruises.

"Strange men often come to my house now. My mother is most worried about me, so if I go home again, she'd rather strangle me than let those..." She choked up, her eyes red but she didn't let the tears fall.

I asked the girl, "Why me?" She finally couldn't hold back and cried. Sobbing, she said, "They say you're a killer, the man who's killed the most people in this town." I told the girl I hadn't killed anyone in this town. "But you're a good person, they're bad people, and you even gave my mother double the money for groceries."

I put a dried nut in my mouth, chewed it hard, and said bluntly, "That wasn't free. Giving your mother double the money was because I wanted her to sleep with me."

The girl didn't speak, lowered her head again, and just wept. I felt I shouldn't have been so harsh on a poor child, so I softened my tone and said, "I didn't..." "I'm a killer. The men in town fear me because I killed too many people when I was in the army, and I often generously bought them drinks."

The girl stopped crying, looked up at me, and blinked her large, wet eyes. "Are you a soldier?" Perhaps it was the girl's tear-streaked face that was so touching, her innocent charm, that moved me to pour out my heart.

Outside, just like the night before, the lightning and thunder continued. I told the girl a lot about my past.

From my wanderings in Vietnam, being captured by a mine owner and enslaved, to drifting to Thailand, where at seventeen I joined a mercenary group secretly organized by the local government. Six years passed in the hail of bullets. I killed many terrorist militants and also carried out missions to kill Western agents alone.

I always felt that those people were terrifying and deserved to die. Until later, the Bangkok Armed Forces Department split into two factions due to political differences. One faction actively strengthened the regular army, while the other secretly formed a mercenary group. Mercenaries fought back. Superiors used mercenary organizations to eliminate dissidents or carry out dirty political orders. If the operation was exposed, the mercenaries would be labeled terrorists and killed by the regular army.

In one operation, we received orders to clear out terrorists at the border. When we arrived, we learned they were destroying villages formed by refugees from various countries, and many children your age were being murdered. Do you know China? The Japanese soldiers massacred unarmed civilians in Nanjing, committing the same atrocities.

You could stand in the middle of the village and indiscriminately fire in all directions, shooting at any living thing with two legs, as long as the target wasn't wearing the same uniform. The villagers' eyes, throats, hearts, and abdomens were riddled with bloody holes from daggers.

At the time, my group had eight people. During the search, we found two ten-year-old girls hiding in a haystack. They stripped them naked, and the seven of them... The scene of the rape was horrific. Seeing the carnage, I vomited. Two team members pulled me away, urging me to join them

in the attack. Two girls were bleeding from their genitals, barely alive. Enrage made my hand instinctively pull out a dagger and slit one team member's throat. I then shot three more team members with my pistol. The remaining three tackled me, and we began to fight. I pulled the grenade's trigger from my body, intending to die with them. Seeing this, the three men turned and ran

. Two of them, running side-by-side, were killed by the grenade I threw. The third was shot by the pistol I picked up from the ground. Hearing the explosion, the surrounding soldiers rushed towards me. I ran desperately into the jungle, gunfire erupting behind me. Bullets whistled past, scattering branches and leaves that hit my arms and face. I felt two bullets wound me—one grazed my ear, the other my shoulder. If only I had run slightly off course… If I'd been a centimeter shorter, I would have lost my life.

Later, I fled to Cambodia, secretly boarded a coal train from Phnom Penh, arrived in Breitmo, walked to Yesen, and from there went to Koh Kong Island. I lived in that small town for five years. There was an underground arms organization in Changalon, and every time they received a shipment, they would pay me a lot of riel to protect the transaction site. But I don't participate in those anymore.

Now, every August, I take a boat to the Crozet Islands to trade with the local natives and earn enough to cover my expenses for the year.

The girl listened, somewhat lost in thought, and I used my dagger to cut off a piece of cured meat and handed it to her. After taking it, she said, "The cross-shaped scar on your chest, is that from fighting with three teammates?" I nodded and asked if her mother had told her about my strange scar. She nodded as well.

I told the girl to go to sleep; I wanted to sit quietly by myself.

The firelight in the fireplace flickered, casting shadows on the wall . My shadow flickered. I gazed at the sleeping Luya, then at the torrential rain outside the window, imagining the voyage ahead, hoping there wouldn't be too much bad weather like this during the voyage.

Though I sat in the dry, comfortable cabin, my heart was heavy. This voyage would last at least five months before I returned to the town. What would become of the girl in the bed after I left? Sending her home would be tantamount to driving her to despair.

Ten boxes of dried food were stored in the basement, which I had intended to give to Zadawa before I went to Sihanoukville. This family, teetering on the brink

of starvation, had my young fiancée; I hoped they could survive after I left. A few days before Luya's arrival, Zadawa had brought my daughter, Yiliang, who was to marry me, to my attic. This Cambodian man in his forties was hunched over like an old man, while his daughter beside him was graceful and clean. Her clean skin was clearly freshly washed. Although she wore tattered clothes from a poor family, her figure was well-developed, and every gesture exuded a charming, youthful allure.

That day, Zadawa wanted to leave his daughter with me for the night, but I refused. I thought that if we encountered danger at sea and couldn't return safely, leaving my young, pregnant wife behind would only subject her and the child in her womb to the hardships of life.

Although Zadawa was poor and old, and had endured much hardship, he was a kind, honest, and understanding man. He could tell that my feelings for Yiliang weren't just lustful, but also concerned for her future, so he happily wiped away his tears and took his daughter back.

Before leaving, I gave him most of the food in the storage cabinet and told him I would give him more before I went out to sea. Zadawa smiled gratefully at me, and Yiliang also raised her pretty little face, looked at me with her clear eyes, and then lowered her head again. This was the first time I'd truly noticed this sixteen-year-old girl. No wonder the townspeople said she was the prettiest girl in town; now I believed it.

The day to set sail finally arrived. I gave seven boxes of food to Zadawa and left a little over two boxes for Luya. I instructed Luya to look after the attic and not to go out unnecessarily. In case of danger, she was to hide in the secret room under the bed, where there was a short gun for self-defense.

After loading the large and small packages of goods and necessities for the voyage onto the carriage, I headed towards Sihanoukville. It would take three days to reach the port from this small town, or two days if the weather was good.

The Snorkel ship wouldn't wait for me because I was late, so I hurried along the way. The carriage got stuck in the mud several times and couldn't move forward, so I had to unload all the goods from the carriage and then carry them back piece by piece after pulling the carriage out.

This feeling is far less comfortable than sitting in a tavern, but in order to have enough Riel to enjoy herself at the tavern as usual next year, I must now resolve all the difficulties.

The only advantage of using a horse-drawn carriage was that it didn't require fuel or feed. The jungle was full of dense foliage; once the horse was untied and allowed to graze for two hours, it would continue pulling me and our luggage towards Sihanoukville.

The second night, a torrential downpour forced us to stop and take shelter. I secured the tent I had prepared to a clump of two-meter-high bushes and leveled the supplies in the carriage so my weary body could lie down and rest. Outside, lightning flashed and thunder roared, but the horse remained quiet inside the tent, slowly chewing on the surrounding plants. I also ate some dried, hard cured meat and nuts, thinking about the feeling of the cabin and wondering if Luya would be afraid alone.

I thought the Snorkel had already reached the shore and would leave the port tomorrow night for the Cape of Good Hope in Africa. The natives of the Crozet Islands must be eagerly awaiting my spices and dried fruit.

Just as dawn was breaking, the rain was still... The rain wasn't getting any smaller. But I couldn't wait any longer, or I'd be late for boarding. I dismantled the tent, wrapped the cargo tightly, and drove the horse-drawn carriage through the rain. When we arrived at Sihanoukville, the Snorkel was just docking. I filled out the forms, moved the cargo into the hold, and slept in a cramped cabin.

This huge cargo ship was much older than last year; it must have encountered many storms and pirates at sea this past year. The massive deck was washed and scoured like a spotted dog's fur. The captain was still that short, stout old man, leading a crew of fugitives from various places. I wrapped myself tightly in the sheepskin blanket and tried not to think about them. I needed to rest early; tomorrow I'd have to work with these sailors, cleaning the deck and maintaining the masts.

The wind and rain intensified that night, and the whole ship rocked back and forth like a baby in a woman's arms. I hadn't felt like this in a long time; the exhaustion of the past three days quickly lulled me to sleep.

URL 1:https://www.sexlove5.com/htmlBlog/21647.html

URL 2:/Blog.aspx?id=21647&aspx=1

Previous Page : Humanity Forbidden Island, Part 2: The Virgin's Visit on a Rainy Night

Next Page : Sleep paralysis

增加

comment Open a new window to view comments

Contact Information

Humanity Forbidden Island, Part 1, Chapter 3: Memories of the Bloody Massacre

comment Open a new window to view comments