Chapter 12
He asked, “Did you rest well?”
I shook my head and said, “Too tired.”
Kenneth said, “The treatment plan has been determined, but the cost is not low, you take a look first.”
He handed me a folder.
I looked through it once and signed without hesitation.
“But before the treatment, I want you to hypnotize me again.”
Kenneth was curious, “What do you want to review?”
“I looked back on how my mother passed away in her previous life.”
I fell asleep in the recliner, and the hypnosis began.
It’s the perspective of the robotic vacuum cleaner again.
I saw Cookie in the living room.
It lay in its little nest, and when it saw me acting so strangely, it didn’t bark, but instead came over and sniffed me with its nose.
I stood up, picked it up without a moment’s hesitation.
The damn wild dog!
If it hadn’t suddenly darted out, we wouldn’t have had the car accident!
When I opened the balcony window, Cookie used its little paws to scratch me.
Its wet tongue also licked my chin.
I threw it out.
On a quiet night, there came a dull, flesh–breaking sound.
It didn’t scream until it fell to its death.
I closed the window and crawled on the ground again.
I went to my parents‘ bedroom.
Dad was snoring, I was sure he was alive.
So I climbed onto my mom, who was motionless.
I licked her face, there was no taste of blood.
I whispered, “Mom, I want to go back and find Mom.”
My mother took sleeping pills and slept deeply.
After I bit her face, she finally woke up.
She muttered, “How old are you, still acting like a little kid.”
My father groggily reached out to turn on the bedside lamp.
The next second, my mother was so scared by my eerie eyes that she couldn’t even scream, “and couldn’t catch her breath.”
I noticed that she moved.
Thinking in my heart, “It’s good, didn’t die.”
So I turned around and crawled away.
I hoped that both my parents, these two living beings, would ascend to heaven with me.
I heard my dad calling my mom’s name in terror.
Then he picked up my mom and ran to the entrance.
Chapter 12
That night, my mother died.
