Laughing American comics, I am becoming more and more like a clown

Lucien said nothing. He turned off the water and handed her the carrot. His eyes saw her wrist curled up from washing vegetables - an intact wrist.

Jenny had a history of self-harm.

He seemed to see a loophole and grabbed her arm. This sudden movement scared Jenny, and the spatula fell into the pot, splashing some oil and making a sizzling sound.

"What are you doing!" Somewhat annoyed.

Lucien didn't care, but squeezed his wrist: "Where's your scar?"

"what?!"

"The self-inflicted wound on your arm—I saw it the first time we met."

Jenny tried to throw his hand away, but failed. The restraint on her wrist made her angry: "What are you talking about - let go!"

……

"Jenny, he has to take medicine." Taylor looked at the purple and red marks on Jenny's wrist during the follow-up visit with a serious expression.

On the other side of the wall, Lucien was still looking at the curtain - the dog.

He thought, maybe he should pay attention to the superficial details - hair color, eye color.

Hair color? Eye color?

His blurry image was reflected in the glass behind the curtain—brown eyes and hair.

……

The bathroom door was closed and locked, and Lucien stood in front of the mirror - brown eyes and hair.

It shouldn't be like this.

He washed his hair over and over with water - it should be dyed - but it wasn't.

She used her hands to touch her eyes - these must be cosmetic contact lenses - until her eyes were bloodshot and tears flowed.

Lucien placed his hands on the porcelain sink and leaned forward, practically putting his weight on it.

He leaned close to the mirror, the tip of his nose being flattened by the cold surface - he looked at himself in the mirror.

There is not a trace of green.

……

This is definitely a dream! It's definitely an illusion!

This can't be the reality!

……

"Listen...listen, you are fake, I mean-"

"Wait a minute," Ms. Taylor interrupted, looking up at his wet face. "Don't get so excited. Why do you think we're fake?"

Lucian raised his hand to wipe his face. He knew he should be calmer. He was not the type to yell. "I mean—you are dreaming, hallucinating, etc. This is not a delusion. I'm serious, you guys."

He couldn't produce any evidence, so after listening to everything politely, Taylor gestured for Jenny to go out, locked the door, and left him alone there.

...Lucian knew he shouldn't be so excited, but the fire from the bottom of his heart made it difficult for him to think clearly and rationally. He sat dejectedly on the sofa, with the leather cushion sank into an arc.

How to prove that this is false?

What about the Joker and Batman?

……

"There's another way, Jenny," Taylor said, "but it requires your signature—electric shock therapy. Don't worry, it's absolutely scientific and safe." She put her hand on Jenny's wrist and said, "I'm worried he'll become violent next. I mean, domestic violence."

"It will be difficult for you to escape with his physique."

“…” Jenny was silent.

ECT is a way of treating mental illness by inducing epileptic seizures in the brain, mainly for major depression, schizophrenia, bipolar disorder, and post-traumatic stress disorder, but it is considered a last resort due to potential side effects and public misunderstanding.

After listening to this, Jenny shook her head: “It’s not that I don’t believe you, it’s just…I will convince him to take the medicine. This time it’s just an accident, he won’t hurt me.”

Chapter 166 Suicide

If it were two years ago, or before his decadence, Lucian would have been happy to indulge in the illusion and convince himself that this was reality.

After all, the Joker really knows him well enough - his gentle wife, familiar neighbors, and a logically consistent world.

But it was definitely not now when he was finished thinking and trying to struggle, holding him tightly in the dream.

……

There is another way - for dreams, as long as you die, you can wake up, especially if you fall from a high altitude, the feeling of falling will communicate with the surface of the body, and then you will wake up.

----

"Drip-drip-"

Lucian opened his eyes again in darkness. He seemed to be lying down. He felt soft cloth in his hands and smelled the scent of disinfectant in his nose.

Hospital?

He turned over and tried to sit up, but this movement disturbed the person who was sleeping lightly next to him.

"You're awake..." It was Jenny: "Doctor, doctor."

She pressed the call bell.

……

Troubled.

The lights were turned on, and the doctor and nurse on duty came in to check, gave a few instructions, and left.

Lucian watched everything happen quietly. He was sure that the feeling of falling was strong enough, and he wanted to fall to his death.

But now he was still here—where the hell was this.

"Why didn't I die?"

"...a car carrying a load of foam cartons happened to pass by."

"Oh."

Jenny stayed there for a long time, looking haggard and tired. When she saw that he stopped talking, she reached out and turned off the light.

The ward fell into darkness again. Instead of sitting back down, she took off her shoes and socks and lay down on the accompanying bed.

……

Or maybe they are right?

Was it just a dream?

And I'm just mentally ill?

……

Lucian stared at the curtains, which were illuminated by the moonlight. The thin fabric could block the scene outside, but it could not block the pouring light.

To be honest, he couldn't think of any way to wake up...except death.

His nails were a little long, but not by much, and as he listened to Jenny's even breathing, he crossed his hands, estimated the location of the artery in his left hand, and then dug in hard with his right thumb.

Suicide is always less painful the shorter the time.

But if a person endures the pain and uses blunt nails to scratch the flesh... Jenny is next to him, and Lucian bites the quilt, so he can't make too much noise.

After an unknown amount of time, he seemed to see a circular spot of light through the curtains. He put his fingers into the wound to distinguish which was the tendon and which was the blood vessel.

The blood had dyed the corners of the hospital gown red, but fortunately the bedding blocked the bloody smell. The long time had made the whole body sweat, damp and hot.

……found it.

He tried many times but couldn't cut his nails. He gasped slightly, loosened his teeth that were biting the quilt, lowered his head, and put his wrist into his mouth.

Grind it with your teeth and it breaks.

……

It should be a vein. Lucian didn't feel the blood spurting out, but rather flowing out like an abandoned mine.

When he bit it just now, it seemed that a small piece of skin and flesh came off with it. In his mouth... it was small enough, perhaps not even big enough to remove the dead skin from the edge of his finger.

But the fishy-sweet taste still lingers in my mouth.

It should be one or two in the morning now, and the earliest Jenny wakes up is six in the morning.

Four or five hours is enough.

……

The bright moonlight shone through the curtains onto the white tiles, but it didn't feel warm at all, instead it looked like paint.

The only sound echoing in the room was the sound of even and shallow breathing.

There was a faint gasp and a slight smell of blood.

……

Didn't die.

The nurse discovered it during her ward rounds. She originally thought it was Jenny's period, but after shining a flashlight on it, she realized it was Lucien's bedding that was stained.

Bright red and glaring.

……

At least it is certain that in this scenario, suicide will not succeed.

Lucien opened his eyes again and found that his wrist had been bandaged and the other hand was receiving a blood transfusion.

Jenny sat next to him, looking even more haggard. This haggardness made her face look dark and she seemed to have aged many years.

After a long silence, Lucien spoke, his voice surprisingly weak. "I remember suicide insurance doesn't pay out... Is the money enough?"

Jenny looked up at him and said with difficulty: "... take good care of your injuries."

----

"He has attempted suicide twice... I can tolerate his bad words and forgive his recurring illness... But he wanted to die by biting his blood vessels while I was sleeping..." Jenny looked like she was crying.