My Pretty Sweetheart novel Chapter 406

I stayed with Irvin in the hospital for a few hours. He had been given a sedative and was lying in bed, resting. He looked at the ceiling with his dark, deep eyes silently, like a corpse. His mind and soul felt like they were somewhere far away.

The doctor had come to check on him a few times. There wasn't any major problem with him, but his heart and lungs did stop functioning for a brief second due to extreme shock and stress. Fortunately, he was able to jump back to a normal and stable condition as he was healthy.

It was getting dark, so I went downstairs to buy some food. When I returned, the effects of Irvin's sedative had started wearing off.

He sat on the bed in a stiff and lonely manner. When he saw me, he asked in a hoarse voice, "Where is she?"

I understood that he was asking about Helen, so I suppressed the heaviness in my heart and said, "She had been sent to the funeral home."

I couldn't bear to look with my own eyes as she fell from the rooftop, but I heard the authorities using only one phrase to describe her body - 'meat pie'.

One could imagine what kind of bloody mess it was.

He nodded, his eyes cold; so cold that it felt somewhat unusual. Looking at the porridge in my hand, he asked, "Only porridge?"

I was surprised. I couldn't get used to his calm and indifferent manner after such a great tragedy had just happened. I nodded, then shook my head. "What would you like to eat? I'll buy it for you!"

"It doesn't matter. I'll just make do with this!" He took the bowl of porridge from me and started eating elegantly, as if his world hadn't just come crashing down a short while ago.

Seeing him like this got me a little worried, but I didn't know how to comfort him. After a pause, I said, "Do you need anything else? I can get them for you."

He stopped and shook his head. His eyes fell on me and asked, "Have you eaten?"

I didn't expect him to ask me that. I shook my head. "I'm not hungry!"

He put his spoon down and stood up. Pulling over a coat on the side, he looked at me and suggested, "Let's go out to eat something."

He dragged me out of the hospital, looking tall and calm. There was nothing unusual about him, and he looked the same as before.

However, the bloodthirsty aura emanating from his eyes was something that I had never seen on him before. There was hatred in him; a deep- rooted, seemingly bottomless, and sanguinary hatred.