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墨書 Inktalez
Claire felt increasingly uneasy and fearful due to Detective Jack's threats. She could no longer rely solely on the numbing effects of marijuana and began seeking more stimulation and escape. Her life became filled with various drugs and alcohol, attempting to suppress her inner fears and guilt.
In a dimly lit room, Claire skillfully tapped her left hand's vein until it bulged. Calmly, she picked up a syringe and swiftly and accurately pierced the needle into the vein, allowing the drug to slowly enter her body.
As the drug coursed through her veins, Claire's pupils dilated rapidly, her capillaries opened instantly, and a wave of intense pleasure and numbness washed over her. She leaned back against the sofa, closed her eyes, and let this overwhelming sensation engulf her.
Countless voices echoed in Claire's mind, as if numerous people were whispering, mocking, and condemning her in her ears. She tried to dispel these voices but felt herself sinking deeper, unable to escape.
"Do you think these drugs can help you escape reality?" a deep, cold voice whispered in her ear, seemingly coming from deep within her. It was Mark's voice; his face reappeared before her eyes, smeared with blood and wearing a mocking smile.
"Yes, I'm dead, Claire," Mark's apparition sneered. "But you can never escape your inner evil. Do you think these drugs can make you forget everything? You're just avoiding the guilt and pain that cannot be erased."
Claire's gaze became hollow as tears welled up in her eyes. She knew she couldn't continue like this. She took a deep drag of the drug smoke, trying to numb herself and push that fear and pain slightly away.
"You will never be free of me, Claire," Mark's apparition continued to whisper, his eyes filled with endless condemnation and mockery. "You know what you've done; you know you can't escape."
Claire's hand trembled slightly as the needle quivered in her vein, bringing a sharp sting. She felt her strength rapidly fading, as if the entire world was pressing down on her.
"I won't let him win," she told herself internally, but that confidence felt so fragile. Deep down inside, she knew she was firmly gripped by that guilt and fear, unable to break free.
She struggled to appear strong, forcing a cold smile onto her face. "Do you think you can scare me, Mark? I won't let anyone disrupt my life, especially not you!"
Claire stood up from the sofa and walked dazedly toward the dance floor. The music was deafening, and the lights flickered incessantly; she felt her consciousness tearing into countless pieces. She began to sway with the music, trying to escape her inner pain through physical contact and movement.
Her movements grew wilder and more bizarre, but in this crazy party, no one seemed to care. Instead, everyone’s energy intensified with her presence. The crowd surrounded her, following her rhythm as they fell into a frenzy.
Claire felt a surge of madness coursing through her body as she began to ramble about feminism passionately. "I am the savior of twenty-first-century women!" she shouted loudly, a glint of madness in her eyes. "We don't need any men to tell us what to do! Men are just burdens in our lives!"
The crowd was stirred by her words and began chanting that she was their goddess. "Claire! Claire! You are our goddess!" The voices rose and fell like waves, shaking the entire room.
"Men always try to suppress us and make us submit to their will!" Claire continued shouting, waving her arms as if leading a revolution. "But we no longer need their oppression! We will take control of our destiny! We are our own masters! We are powerful women; we don't need men!"
The cheers from the crowd reached a climax as everyone immersed themselves in this celebration. Claire felt an unprecedented power; she knew she had become the center of this party—the goddess in their hearts.
"I am the true goddess!" she shouted wildly as if trying to scream out all the pain within her. "I will lead you to freedom! We no longer need men's control and oppression; we will create our own world!"
The cheers from the crowd grew louder, and Claire felt herself enveloped by this fervent energy. She knew there was no turning back. She would continue this wild game until the very last moment, until she could no longer bear the guilt and pain.
"We must stand up and fight against all the forces that oppress us!" she exclaimed passionately, her eyes sparkling with fervor. "We will let everyone know that we are strong, independent women, and we do not need anyone's sympathy or pity!"
However, the emptiness and pain within her remained unshakable. She felt as if her soul were being torn apart, countless voices echoing in her mind, making it impossible to escape.
"I am the true goddess!" she shouted madly, as if trying to scream out all her inner torment. "I will lead you to freedom!"
Claire's frenzied words ignited the atmosphere to its peak. The music was deafening, the lights flickered incessantly, and the crowd surged like a tide in the large room, shouting and dancing as if everyone were venting their inner fervor and dissatisfaction. Claire stood in the center of the dance floor, waving her arms and shouting her slogans.
"For women's rights, we can sacrifice everything!" Her voice pierced through the music, resonating throughout the room. "We will break all the chains that oppress us and create a world of our own!"
The crowd responded wildly to her words, moving to her rhythm. Some climbed onto furniture, others stood on tables swaying wildly; everyone was immersed in this frenzied celebration, seemingly forgetting time and space. On this night, they were no longer ordinary people but warriors pursuing freedom and liberation.
Yet behind this madness, an elderly couple across the street found it unbearable. Through the thin walls, the music and shouting seeped into their home, preventing them from sleeping.
The old man angrily said to his wife, "These people are outrageous; it's already one in the morning! What on earth are they doing?"
The old woman sighed helplessly, trying to soothe his emotions. "Dear, they're just young people; they might be too happy."
"Happy?" The old man grumbled discontentedly. "This is nothing but a disturbance! We have to do something; it can't go on like this."
Gripping his cane tightly, he slowly walked with his wife toward the house across the street. There were bright lights everywhere, trash scattered on the ground, and the music was deafening. The old man's face was filled with anger and helplessness as he approached that house step by step; though their pace was slow, their determination was unwavering.
Arriving at the door, he knocked with his cane, producing a dull thud. After a moment, the door opened to reveal a young man standing there with a dazed expression, his eyes unfocused—clearly under the influence of drugs. His clothes were disheveled, his hair messy; he looked like someone who had crawled out of hell.
The old man glared at the young man and said angrily, "Young man, you are too loud! Can you turn down the music? We can't sleep at all."
The young man stared blankly at him as if it took several seconds for him to comprehend what was being said. He swayed slightly at the door, confusion in his eyes as he mumbled, "We're... we're having a party..."
The old man grew angrier and struck his cane forcefully against the ground. "I don't care what you're doing; it's already one in the morning! How can you expect anyone else to sleep with all this noise?"
The young man scratched his head, seeming somewhat impatient but still turned back to shout: "Hey! Someone says we're too loud!"
Claire's voice echoed from deep within the room, tinged with impatience and arrogance: "Who is that?!"
The young man turned his head to look at the old man, a hint of helplessness in his eyes. "The boss lady is asking what you want."
The old man took a deep breath, trying to suppress his inner anger. He said to the young man, "Tell your boss lady that the music is too loud. Can you turn it down a bit? We really can't rest like this."
The young man shouted back, "Boss, someone says we're too loud and wants us to turn the music down!"
Moments later, Claire's figure appeared at the door. Her eyes were wild, and a cold smile played on her lips. "Still knocking at this hour? Don't you know we're here celebrating women's victories?"
The old man replied angrily, "We know what you're doing, but the loud music is really preventing us from resting. Please consider others' feelings and turn it down a bit."
Claire sneered, exhaling a puff of smoke. "We're fighting for women's rights here; that's more important than anything else. You old fogies have no idea what we're doing."
The old woman spoke softly, "We understand your passion, but everyone needs rest too. Could you please be considerate and lower the music a little?"
Claire raised an eyebrow at them, her eyes filled with disdain. "Considerate? Have you ever considered how we young people feel? This society has always been controlled by you old fogies; we're just fighting for our rights!"
The old man waved his cane angrily. "This is not the way to fight for rights! This is just disturbing the peace! Please quiet down, or we will have to call the police!"
Claire scoffed dismissively and turned to the people in the room. "Did you hear that? These old fogies are going to call the police! Are you scared?"
Laughter and raucous voices erupted from the crowd; no one paid attention to the old man's words. Claire turned back and coldly said, "Do as you please; we won't stop."
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