Nathan Foster turned on the bedside lamp, only to find that the curtains weren't drawn.
He looked at the dim night view outside; the garden was shrouded in shadows. Nathan stood up and went to the window, looking out for a long time, in the direction of the main building.
Harold Foster and his wife lived there. Nathan had been independent since he was young and rarely lived with his parents.
Since he could remember, he had been living alone here.
Nathan stood by the window for a long time, continually observing the night outside.
When sleepiness finally crept in, he lay back in bed, turned off the bedside lamp, and closed his eyes. The blood-stained hands reappeared before his eyes.
Nathan sat up again, frowning deeply.
Since that incident, he hadn't had this nightmare for many years.
Nathan opened the door and walked out.
Now it was early summer, and the heat was starting.
South Grant naturally had a bit of a cold constitution, and during her period, it was excruciating.
