[CM] THE CASE

The more difficult the time is, the more we must keep the light. — Aristotle

Griffith dug out a small bottle of brandy from a cupboard in his room.He picked up the bottle and shook it, and Reid understood and cleaned both glasses.They sat on opposite sides of the coffee table, and Griffith unscrewed the lid and each poured a glass.

The sight was so intense, Reid felt a twinge of unease deep down inside—they talked about it before Elle left.

Griffith finished the brandy with the momentum of Northeast people drinking baijiu, and the spicy taste almost choked his tears out. Surprised, Reid hurriedly persuaded: "Slow down!"

Griffith ignored him, and after a while, he whispered, "My father is a human trafficker."

It took Reid a moment to realize that he wasn't talking about James, but his biological father.

"He makes a living by abducting and selling children. My mother was bought by him. It is a 'commodity'. Since it is a 'commodity', it must be valuable. Do you know what the greatest value of a woman is?" Griffith smiled slightly , "Birth. She gave birth to three children, the first two were girls, and he strangled them to death before they could learn to speak. I am the third, fortunately it is a boy, otherwise..."

He didn't say anything else, but Reid felt a chill down his spine.

Griffith, however, raised his hand and poured another glass of wine, as if telling a fictional horror story.

"I remember early. From the time I was sensible, my father taught me to abduct children. I would carry a lollipop in my pocket every day. When I saw a child who was alone, I would talk to them. If they were crying, I would use candy to coax them. Then he arranged for someone to take over. ...I have never tasted what sugar is like, because the sugar is not bought for me, and he will beat me up if there is one missing, and take whatever is at hand, slippers, belts, cups... I will always have injuries on my body, He often wakes up in pain at night. But he can’t make a sound when he wakes up, and he will be beaten when he wakes up.”

"My mother didn't dare to stop him, and she couldn't. She was in poorer health than me, and having a baby hurt her too much, and she was often beaten until she vomited blood. But no, she had to get up early every day to cook and wash. Clothes... If one day she can't get up, that bastard can wrap her in a straw mat and throw her into the river to drown."

"All the children he abducted are thrown in the basement. Some of them will be maimed and begged on the street, and the older ones will be sold to be used as child labor. I am often taken down by him to listen to the screams of those children and see how he abuses them. Those who didn't survive were thrown into the boiler and burned." Griffith said, "Sometimes I do wrong things, and he does the same to me."

"However, if you often walk by the river, how can you not get your shoes wet? He didn't know who he offended and was betrayed to the police. When those children, my mother and I were rescued, he was already under the law." Griffith lowered his head, the first Two glasses of wine were swallowed.

Reid suddenly grabbed his cup hand.

It turned out that his hands were shaking.

Griffith took a deep breath. "My mother didn't make it through. She was so weak that she died the next day in the hospital. I didn't even… didn't even get to see her for the last time."

"Then I met James. Psychiatrists weren't common then, and James was just a friend of the police, who didn't get paid. I couldn't speak, I didn't respond to external stimuli. Freedom was a nihilistic concept for me. I didn't know. I escaped, I didn't know he was dead, I just knew he was going to find me, kill me, throw me in a boiler like any other kid - I didn't want to die."

Reid's hand suddenly tightened, but Griffith didn't feel any pain, and continued: "Most of the children were taken back by their parents, and the rest went to orphanages. I have no parents. James saw that my condition was serious, so he sent I take it home."

"I had never been to school, so he taught me; I didn't dare to sleep, so he stayed with me. After a year, I was able to communicate with strangers, and James let me go to school. But one day, I went to the police I was looking for him and came across a dead body." Griffith licked his dry lips, "That was the first time I saw a dead person."

"Although empathy is human nature, just like pain is inborn, but only the same experience can produce empathy. If you have never been injured, how do you know what the wound looks like?" Griffith said almost self-deprecatingly , "The neighbors said I was cold-blooded, because they couldn't see the wounds on my body. But I also think I am cold-blooded; I have seen so many children being abused, but I obediently let him manipulate, causing one child after another to be devastated... …I didn’t realize until then that I was not cold-blooded, because when they hurt, I hurt too.”

Reid let go of his hand, and Griffith's fingers curled up slightly, seeming to miss his warmth.In the next second, his whole body was held in Reid's arms.

This was the second hug today, stronger and longer than the first one, Griffith could almost feel the arms around him stiff and trembling, but even so, he didn't strangle himself.

His trembling and stiffness are all restraining himself.

It's hard for Reid to describe how he's feeling right now.He felt sorry for Griffith, wished he could never let go, loved him, protected him, and kept him away from death—because his "talent" was not a real talent, but a scar that could not heal.His silence was not because of his guard, but because the things hidden deep in his heart were too heavy for him to speak out.He was angry again.This anger has no source and no object.If you have to say it, you may be angry with Griffith's biological father, but not all; James who let Griffith see the corpse, Gideon who encouraged Griffith to use his "ability", and himself who was always by his side.

When he was struggling with the illusion of death again and again, he just watched quietly, watching him torture himself, watching his trauma devour him again and again.

Even if I like him, what right do I have to speak?

Reid felt that the person was like a realistic doll, leaning against his chest without sadness or joy, even the ups and downs of breathing were slow and regular, even if he just told about his tragic childhood, it was like reciting an edited background story.He must have brought out this story in the middle of the night that no one knew about, grinding away layers of bloody sincerity.

It seems that this is the only way to prove that his blood is not cold.

Griffith flinched, but didn't move. Reid was determined not to let go this time, Griffith raised his head slightly, his voice hoarse: "I'm fine."

Reid didn't speak.After a while, he placed a soft kiss on Griffith's forehead: "Don't cry, I'm here."

Griffith bit his lower lip, and it took a long time before Reid felt his sleeves get a little wet - he cried.

Many years ago, there was also a person who put his arms around him, gave him a comforting kiss, and told him "don't cry, I'm here".Many years later, that man turned into a bone, lying in the morgue completely unrecognizable, unable to even open his mouth for grievances, yet someone still said the same thing to him.

It turned out that he was really not alone. It turned out that suffering was just suffering and could not bury his life.

Reid rubs against his hair, and Griffith sheds tears for a moment—really, even though his sleeves are soaked, and Griffith doesn't even let out a whimper.The room was very quiet, there was only one bottle of brandy left, the air conditioner was blowing silently, but Reid could hear another person crying.It was an immature and hoarse child's voice, coming from the deep heart of Griffith, belonging to a helpless child many years ago.

Griffith's phone beeped sharply and he poked Reid's arm as if awakened from a dream. Reid let go graciously, handing over the handkerchief thoughtfully. Griffith wiped away tears and unlocked the screen to check emails.

Reid finished his drink without a word, looking up at Griffith's pale face.Before he could ask, Griffith turned the screen around and showed him.

The anonymous email reads "Sorrow and Blight" in Chinese.

Reid's face also became serious: "What do you mean?"

"It's a colloquial term used to comfort the family of the deceased, to tell them not to grieve, to accept the truth..." Griffith whispered, "Who would have known..."

Who will know about James?And who will send him an email?

"Call Garcia," Reid whispered, "and ask her to find out if she can find a link to that previous message, the 'Happy Birthday' one."

"You mean..."

"It shouldn't be a coincidence." Reid frowned, "You have a stalker who knows you very well... Strange. If he is really a stalker, why didn't he have more contact besides these two messages? You really don't Did you receive some gifts from unknown sources?"

Griffith shook his head.

"It doesn't matter, you may be in danger now." Reid said, "If it's really the same person, if you don't give him feedback, it will deteriorate very quickly. We have all seen his killing methods, and he is not a novice. If he's after you... call Garcia, quick!"