占楼，sammy帝的手动英文输入：
The Summons of the Deep —— Part Four: The Terror of the Tides
BH久等的第四部，那个男的么，必然找死了
Julia Brown screamed. And screamed again.
The body in the tub. The water, overflowing. Muddy stains on the wall, the towels, the rug. Muddy stains smeared with blood.
The body of her friend, her former lover, the only man she had ever asked for help. Bite marks. Human bite marks all over his arms, his neck, his back. Roach-like insects crawling across the wet floor, crawling across the dirty walls and the soiled ledge of the tub, crawling across the body, feeding on the wounds. Where did they all come from?
Something was wrong.
I need to hide the body, she thought. They'll com for me. They'll know. I did this. Don't let them find out.
But where would she hide it? Come to think of it, how was she even going to move the body? Marshal was 6'5" and weighed almost 250 pounds. How did she get the body to the tub in the first place? Maybe you didn't.
Something was wrong.
Even if she could move the body, even if she could hide it, the body, this problem--whatever it was--did she want to? Yes! No, of course not. Would that make the problem go away? What problem? Would she still turn the water on every night? Why wouldn't she?
Something was wrong.
Turning away from the body, the roaches, and the mess of water, blood, and mud that was slowly trickling onto the floor of her bathroom, Julia left the room and the water running behind her. In a daze, she stumbled towards her phone, knocking the mouthpiece off the receiver. Picking it up, she started dialing the police station, but stopped halfway, and hung up.
What am I going to do? Her mind was racing. She took a deep breath, and looked across the room at her violin, resting peacefully in its stand. It mocked her with its serenity. You're losing it. She took another deep breath, and pulled herself together It was only an instrument.
She flipped through her directory, which she kept near the phone. What was the name of that counsellor... that psych guy? He had only examined her once, a couple years ago when she first started experiencing sleepless nights. Dr. Carson, that was his name. She was not impressed with his diagnosis, and never returned for the follow-up. "Looks good to me," he had said, but she couldn't tell if he was referring to her mind or her body.
She dialed the number. There was nowhere else to turn. The phone rang in her ear.
"Dr. Carson, can I help you?" His voice was loud and reassuring, and he spoke with practiced control.
"Doctor.... I... I think I'm in trouble." She could barely get the words out. "I don't know... I don't know what to do. I-"
He cut her off. "You need to pull yourself together. Everything is going to be OK. Explain to me, as calmly as possible, what is
going on." The doctor was someone she could trust. He had to be.
"I think I k-k-killed my friend last night, he was over here and I wanted him to watch me while I slept, so I didn't-"
"Does this have anything to do with the fact that your tub is running in the background?" he asked.
"What? How did you know that?" Julia asked.
But the line was already dead.
