Harry had made up his mind. No one could persuade him, and his remaining money had already been taken care of, leaving only eighty million.
Once Harry went to prison, the company was gone, and the people in the group had scattered and been taken over by others, continuing their former glory.
The assistant who had been with Harry in the hospital for two days assumed that the eight million left on Harry’s person was for his use after his release.
Eight million, enough for a person to live comfortably for the rest of their life. Many people can’t even earn one million in their lifetime.
But no one expected Harry to spend it all in the blink of an eye, and no one knew where he spent it.
After forty days in the hospital, July 10th was the day of Harry’s court sentencing.
Many reporters were standing at the door that day. At eight o’clock, Harry was escorted to court by two police officers. He was wearing a blue and black prison uniform, sporting a bald head with a very noticeable scar. After the operation a month ago, his hair had not yet grown back, and only dark spots could be faintly seen, similar to his chin stubble.
His hands were in handcuffs, and every step he took made a clinking sound of the chains bumping against each other.
Harry was now utterly defeated, like a beaten dog.
Keeping his head down, Harry glanced outside and saw a bird passing by. Following the bird’s flight path, he scanned the crowd outside, and then his gaze stopped.
From dimness to a fleeting brightness, and finally to a silent darkness, Harry’s eyes went through a momentary change.
He had another hallucination. When he glanced at the crowd outside, he saw Hattie among them.
How could it be Hattie? Hattie was already dead.
The judge took his seat, struck the gavel, and began the trial. A series of procedures went by quickly. Harry never spoke a word throughout, and wasn’t paying attention until the sentencing results were announced: life imprisonment.
He had killed a person who should have been in a mental hospital. He had thought he would receive a light sentence, but to his surprise, it was life imprisonment. He could never get out of prison for the rest of his life, every move and action would be under surveillance. For Harry, this was no different from death.
To him, this was more painful than death. From the moment Hattie’s death was announced, Harry had lost his soul. He was now alive only to complete a mission.
“Harry, reflect on yourself well in prison.”
With so many people around, nobody knew who said this. Harry blinked his dry eyes and replied lightly, “Okay.”
Nobody had expected him to smile at this moment.
The people present had all witnessed a man’s rise and fall, from soaring heights to plummeting into the mud. Harry was now 33 years old. For many, 30 is the beginning of adulthood, the start of building a home.
But Harry had lost everything this year, with no career and no home. He seemed to have aged by ten years, and his deep exhaustion was evident on his face.
The officer beside him nudged him, “Let’s go.”
Escorted out of the courtroom, Harry glanced at the crowd once again before getting into the car, but there was nothing.
The day remained bright, with clear blue skies, serene and empty.
The officers tightly escorted him, urging him to get into the car quickly. The surroundings had become crowded at some point.
Harry reacted belatedly, and when he looked around, all he could see were cameras and microphones. A group of reporters bombarded him with various questions.
The camera flashes focused on him incessantly, and the constant clicking of the flashbulbs filled his ears. Harry squinted slightly, feeling a dull ache where he had been operated on.
Nearby, he noticed a person holding an empty bottle, as a bystander, he’d have likely thrown it at him if not for the police holding him back.
Sometimes Harry’s memory was reliable, sometimes it was not. What he should remember, he would forget, and what he shouldn’t think about, would stubbornly appear in his mind.
For example, when he remembered the fall of the Mason family, it was just like the present.
The corners of Harry’s mouth curled upwards, mingling bitterness with self-mockery.
“Don’t cry now, crying won’t help. It’s already done. Go in, reflect, and maybe with time, you’ll get a shorter sentence…” the officer escorting him said.
Cry? Him? Harry lifted his heavy wrist and wiped his face, feeling dampness. What was this? He looked at the wet spot on the back of his hand in confusion.
As he kept his head down, the wet spots on his hand increased, some falling onto the handcuffs.
His vision blurred. It took him a moment to come to his senses. Under everyone’s gaze, he was crying, humiliating himself like never before!