Micah originally didn’t want to disturb Hattie’s sleep and let her rest well since she didn’t have anything to do at the moment. He could just leave her a text message, telling her he was off to work and to eat well.
But for some reason, his heart kept tightening intermittently, as if being strangled by a rope. The feeling of unease, that something was about to happen, continued to linger in his mind.
In the end, Micah couldn’t help but worry. He walked towards Hattie’s room, knocking on the door, intending to wake her up as usual.
“Dr. Mason, time to get up and have breakfast.”
No response.
“Hattie, lazy girl, I made chicken congee for you, and your favorite pickled radishes with Sprite, come on, wake up and have breakfast, then you can go back to sleep…” By the end of his calling, Micah’s voice was involuntarily trembling.
He had a strange intuition that Hattie had left. At this moment, he was sure she wasn’t inside.
He placed his hand on the doorknob, hesitating to push it. When one refused to accept reality, self-deception could persist. Could he still deceive himself that Hattie was still sleeping inside and hadn’t left?
Just like Hattie understood Micah, he understood her. She was short of sleep and any slight noise would wake her. Now, he had knocked on the door and called her many times – why wouldn’t she respond?
So, it must be that no one was inside.
Even if he didn’t want to accept it, Micah had to. He opened the door, a breeze blowing in, the window in Hattie’s room was open, the curtains gently swaying. The bedroom was quaintly small, tidily folded blankets, a clean room, even the trash can was clean.
Hattie was indeed gone, but Micah didn’t know when she had left. She left quietly without telling him.
Her clothes in the closet remained, her favorite books on the shelf, the tablet he gave her to play games and watch videos, the seashells she collected and turned into dried flower decorations…
It seemed like everything was still there, except the important person.
Hattie hadn’t taken anything with her. Even these things should have been precious to her. Micah quietly walked in and picked up the seashell on the table.
Perhaps Hattie would come back, maybe she just went out for a walk. He should call her, what if she answered and came back?
Micah quickly took out his phone and called Hattie. A female system voice soon came from inside.
“Sorry, the number you dialed is switched off. Please try again later…”
Switched off.
…
On the other side, Hattie got into a car and told the driver an address.
The song playing in the car was the one Micah loved the most: “The truth that you leave.”
Soon, the song ended, and Hattie spoke, “Um… Can you play the previous song again?”
Wearing a mask, Hattie had only mentioned the destination since getting in the car. The driver saw her staring out the window, and tried to start a conversation with a couple of sentences. All he got in return was a quiet “Um.” He didn’t try to talk to her further.
And now, seeing her speak up was somewhat unexpected. “Do you like that song?” The driver asked as he rewound the music to the previous track, and the familiar piano melody played again.
Hattie nodded, “Yes,” as if she liked the person who liked the song.
The driver decided to put the piano track on repeat for the journey, playing the same song for a full hour. Hattie listened as if she didn’t get tired of it.
The song, representing “parting,” resonated with her current mood – regret, not wanting to leave but having to leave.
Since she couldn’t go back to the past, she should keep her distance.
Hattie arrived at the designated location, paid the fare, turned on her location, sent a message, then made a call.
“I’m here, where are you?”
“Waiting.”
She had left at one in the morning, making stops along the way before finally catching a taxi. Arriving at this place around four in the morning, under the pitch-black sky before dawn, Hattie waited for almost fifteen minutes before finally hearing movement.
She looked at the person in front of her. Fiona, who should have been in a mental hospital, appeared here after more than a month. She had visibly lost weight, with sparse hair and a receding hairline. Hattie looked her up and down, noticing the absence of her legs and fingers.
Even her left leg prosthesis had changed, not as good as before. Fiona walked with a limp. Hattie glanced behind her.
“No need to look, it’s just me.” She thought of asking someone to torture Hattie, but being watched in the mental hospital and having spent all her money coming out, she didn’t have money to hire someone to do it. Harry had given her some credit cards and money before, but it had either been taken away by him or blocked. She only had the money she had saved from her previous job.
Indeed, everything relied on oneself. Even money needed to be earned through hard work to be used.
Hattie turned her gaze back to Fiona and went straight to the point, “How did my parents die?”