Liam appeared to be an easygoing man, but in truth, his heart was always closed off. Becoming his friend wasn't easy, and earning his willingness to make sacrifices for someone was even harder. Regarding Christine, it wasn't that Liam lacked compassion entirely, but he remained indifferent. Andrew was tall and strong. Physically, Liam was no match for him. In terms of weapons, Andrew had a gun, while Liam possessed only a scalpel tucked inside his leather jacket's pocket. Clearly, Liam had only one chance to act. If he couldn't take Andrew down instantly, Andrew would surely shoot him dead. So Liam didn't act rashly—perhaps because Christine was just a beautiful stranger, not worth the risk.
Sitting on a chair in the corner of the room, Liam watched as Andrew slowly dragged Christine into the lounge. He lowered his head gradually, saying nothing.
"Let me go, please, don't do this…"
In the cramped bathroom, under dim yellow lighting, a graceful figure was reflected in the mirror. Manila had dried herself off and was putting on her underwear when she heard the commotion outside. She quickly dressed, skipping her shoes, ran her fingers through her damp hair, and pushed the door open.
"Please, don't do this, don't…" Christine was already crying, shaking her head, pleading with Andrew.
"Damn it, get in there. If you piss me off, I'll shoot you." Andrew pulled Christine toward the lounge. A strong man dragging a beautiful girl into a lounge—anyone could guess his intentions.
Andrew didn't seem like a good person before the apocalypse, and without the constraints of law and morality afterward, his dark side had fully emerged.
Manila stood by the bathroom door, her eyes quickly scanning the others in the living room. The elderly Mike couple sat tightly embraced on the sofa. Jason stood by the window, watching everything unfold, seemingly wanting to say or do something but doing neither.
Manila's gaze finally settled on Liam. His demeanor ignited her anger. He sat with his head down, examining his fingernails as if they were fascinating.
She didn't know why she was so angry—perhaps because she believed Liam had the power to stop all this, yet he acted as if he saw nothing, completely indifferent.
Christine continued crying and struggling. Suddenly, Manila took a deep breath and unbuttoned two buttons of her blouse, revealing two round, full curves. Barefoot, she walked over to Andrew and grabbed his arm. Andrew instinctively raised his hand to strike but stopped when he felt the softness on his arm. He turned to look.
"Hi," Manila pouted her lips seductively, her curled eyelashes and charming eyes fixed on Andrew.
"Hi," Andrew, slightly dazed, turned to look at Manila.
"She's just a young girl, doesn't know anything. How about…" Manila spoke softly, her body pressed against Andrew's. Her long, slender legs, clad in tight shorts, rubbed against his leg. Her right hand rested on his shoulder, and her left hand gently stroked his chest. Her tone was soft and alluring. "How about I keep you company?"
Everyone in the room looked at Manila, including Liam.
"Alright, come with me." Completely captivated by Manila's deliberate seduction, Andrew released Christine and grabbed Manila's hand that was caressing his chest, his eyes never leaving her face as he led her into the lounge.
Liam watched expressionlessly as Manila, offering herself, followed Andrew inside. Before the door closed, Manila seemingly glanced back at Liam, giving him a look of disdain, then turned to Andrew with a sweet smile as the door shut.
Jason immediately took two steps to the sofa, flipped over the backrest with agility, and landed beside Christine.
"Christine, are you okay?" Jason tilted his head to look at her. Christine was still wiping her tears, turning her head to look at the lounge door, saying nothing.
"Child… we…" Old Mike wanted to say something to Christine, but Laura tugged at him to stop. Mike sighed and said no more. Explanations were futile, lacking the courage to help Christine at the time, nothing they said now would matter.
Everyone tried to comfort Christine, except Liam. His behavior seemed odd to the others. If his indifference to Christine's impending ordeal could be explained as unwillingness to risk himself for a stranger, then his lack of reaction to Manila's seduction of Andrew was harder to justify. The two had boarded the vehicle together and come here. Even if they weren't lovers, they should at least be good friends. Moreover, the likelihood of them being a couple was high.
Jason, Mike, and Laura all glanced at Liam but quickly looked away. Liam remained so calm that they didn't know what to say to him. They couldn't very well go over and say, "Hey, buddy, your girl is about to sleep with someone else. Any thoughts?"
A low moan began to vaguely in the lounge, and Andrew's voice came out. Then Manila's moans became unrestrained, and there were some words such as "fuck me" and "harder". It sounded like the two of them were playing pretty crazy. The sound insulation in the lounge was very poor, and they could hear all the sounds clearly.
In truth, Liam's feelings were complicated—not because of who Manila slept with, as that had nothing to do with him. Manila wasn't his girlfriend. What troubled him was realizing he had misjudged Manila. She was willing to offer herself to help the girl named Christine, and that was what unsettled Liam.
The sounds from the lounge ceased after about ten minutes. It seemed Andrew's abilities in certain aspects didn't match his physique. After another two minutes or so, Manila emerged from the lounge, buttoning her blouse, her hair disheveled, her face still flushed. As she opened the door, one could see crumpled tissues and used condoms on the lounge floor.
After closing the lounge door, Manila walked over to Christine and sat on the other side of the sofa. Jason tactfully moved away.
"Are you okay?" Manila finished buttoning her blouse, brushed her hair behind her ear, and tilted her head to look at the downcast Christine.
"Thank you!" Christine suddenly hugged Manila's waist, sobbing softly.
"It's okay. It'll pass. Everything will be fine!" Manila patted Christine's back, comforting her in a low voice, and even kissed her hair.
Liam still sat in the corner of the room, watching since Manila came out. Manila spoke softly to the emotionally distressed Christine for a while, then suddenly turned to look at Liam. Their eyes met, and Manila once again showed her disdain.
"Alright, be strong." Manila held Christine's shoulders, looking into her eyes. "No more tears, okay?"
Christine nodded. Manila ruffled her hair, stood up, and walked to a corner of the living room, sitting on the floor against the wall, hugging her knees.
She sat right next to Liam's chair but didn't look at him.
"Not a man!"
After a while, Manila suddenly spoke, slightly tilting her head to glance at Liam sitting on the chair.
Liam had no response, gave a self-deprecating smile, looked at Manila, and softly asked, "Why did you help her?"
"She's still a child. She saved us!" Manila stared into Liam's eyes. Liam softly responded, "Oh," his eyes drifting elsewhere, lost in thought.
Manila continued to look at Liam. After a long time, she suddenly lowered her head and said, "Do you know why I do this?"
"What?" Liam snapped out of his thoughts and looked at Manila.
"Whore!"
"Forced by life, I suppose," Liam guessed with a melancholic tone.
Manila fell silent for a while. She turned to look out the window and spoke in a low voice, "My mom died when I was twelve. Overdosed. I never knew who my real dad was. After that, my stepfather raised me. On my sixteenth birthday, he got drunk. Said I was finally a woman… and then he raped me. After that, he started forcing me to sleep with other men to pay off his gambling debts."
That was why she chose to help Christine. She had been sixteen then, and now Christine was sixteen. The tragedy that had consumed her once was unfolding all over again in another girl's life.
It wasn't something she talked about. Maybe it was some strange chemical in her blood tonight, something raw and volatile that made her open up to Liam. Maybe it was just the silence he wrapped around himself that made her want to break it.
"Your… stepfather. Where is he now?" Liam asked quietly, not wanting her to go on, cutting her off mid-thought.
"He's dead. Shot not long after all that, because of his debts." Her voice dropped. Her energy seemed to go with it. Then suddenly, she stood up, crossed the room, and went back into the lounge. Liam couldn't hear what she said in there, if anything at all. A moment later she came out again, barefoot, holding a cigarette and a lighter.
She walked back to Liam, sat down beside him, tore open the cigarette pack, placed one between her lips and lit it. Then she tossed the lighter and the pack to Liam's feet. Liam glanced down but didn't pick them up.
"You've always thought I'm dirty, haven't you? Filthy. Shameless," she exhaled a thin stream of smoke, leaning against the wall and tilting her head to look at him.
"No. You're kind," Liam said, calm and sure.
Manila gave a soft laugh, took another drag from the cigarette between her fingers, flicked the ash off, looked away and shook her head slowly. It was clear she didn't believe a word of it.
Liam didn't bother explaining. He wasn't the explaining type. Instead, he suddenly looked toward the lounge door and asked, "What's he doing in there? Sleeping?"
Manila followed his gaze, then looked back at him and said in a soft voice, "He brought some weed. He's getting high."
"Oh? He's using now?" Liam's tone sharpened slightly.
"Yeah. He even offered me some. But I quit a long time ago," she said as she smoked, her gaze foggy, lost in something old.
"Did he start using right after you were done? Or when you went in to get the smokes?" Liam's questions came suddenly, rapidly. He looked down at his watch. It was 8:47 a.m.
Manila bit the cigarette and gave him a puzzled look, unsure why he was asking—but she answered anyway. "Right after. As soon as we finished."
"Oh," Liam nodded. Something settled in his mind. Then he got to his feet and headed for the bathroom.
Half an hour. That's usually how long it takes before the effects hit.
Inside the bathroom, Liam stood in front of the mirror. Slowly, he pulled a wide, easy smile—warm, like he was about to see an old friend. Then the smile faded. He took off his jacket, stained with blood, picked up a towel by the sink and carefully wiped it clean. From inside the coat, he retrieved a small cloth roll.
He hung the jacket on a hook on the wall.
Underneath, he wore a clean long-sleeved T-shirt. He unrolled the cloth bundle and drew out a scalpel—blade and handle together, fifteen centimeters of surgical steel. He slid it up his sleeve.
Another glance at the watch. 8:58.
He took a deep breath, looked into the mirror, and smiled again.