NovelEnglishCecelia trotted out of the military hospital and drove back to the Heath family.
The distance was just 2 km, but it becextra long because of the traffic everywhere. After driving for nearly ten minutes, she
was so impatient that she finally simply parked the car at the intersection and got out to walk home.
Jogging all the way, she finally reached the door, only to see that all the lights in the entire villa were turned off, and darkness
shrouded the spire house, giving her a surprisingly gloomy and gruesfeeling.
Her heartbeat accelerated again for no reason, her heart thumping hard, and the inexplicable uneasiness rushed up again.
She kept reassuring herself that either the old man hadn't chyet or he was sleeping, which was why the house was left
unlit.
The moment she opened the door, Cecelia, with the acumen of a soldier, immediately detected an unusual scent.
It was ... the smell of blood!
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It was very light and faint, but enough for her to distinguish.
How is that possible? How could there be the smell of blood in the house?
Her heart sank, trying to escape again, but her intuition told her that something must have happened at home.
With trembling fingers, she turned on the lights.
Bright incandescent lights lit up the whole house in turn. Shoes were neatly arranged in the entrance hall, and she glimpsed
Rodney's shoes on the cabinet, as usual, so she could see that Rodney had returned.
She hurriedly shouted, "Dad, Dad!"
The only thing that answered her was the faint echo of an empty house.
She cautiously walked in. The dining room was empty, the parlor was empty, and as soon as she stepped out of the parlor, she
glimpsed a shocking puddle of blood spreading over the floor. It was a hideous reddish-brown color that had solidified.
She rushed into the living room.
The sight in front of her completely stunned her.
Rodney curled up on the ground, and his blood was everywhere.
On his forehead, there was a bowl-sized wound, and the back of his head was also stained with blood. The death-like blood on the
ground was no longer flowing, and the air was filled with the pungent smell of blood.
Cecelia, at this moment, was stunned and dumbfounded, and her brain could not think.
She stood there idly for a long while, unable to accept the reality in front of her. Just how could something like this even happen?
He was just fine in the morning! How could she explain this to Ralph? How could she forgive herself?
After a long time, her numb body walked forward mechanically, until she reached Rodney's side.
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She knelt down and gently stroked him. She knew he was dead. He had bled so much that he couldn't possibly still be alive. His
body had begun to stiffen, without a trace of warmth. Her hands were stained with his blood. She looked at her hand, and tears
could not help but flow down from her eyes.
He was such a warlord, and he died in his own hfor no reason! His dead was neither marvelous, nor peaceful.
Not a last word, not even tto say goodbye.
It's her fault for not keeping an eye on him.
Knowing that Rodney had been in a bad mood recently, she failed to stop him in time. It was all her fault. She was overwhelmed
with self-blame, and there was no way for her to cout of her grief and self-recrimination.
She looked up and looked around.
Rodney apparently fell down the stairs, hitting the back of his head and forehead on a marble pillar and bleeding to death.
Perhaps Rodney was just going downstairs to answer the phone.
That's how his life was cut short.
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