"Help!"
At midnight, the suburban road was completely deserted—not a single passing car in sight.
The driver clung to the last message on his phone and didn't dare veer into the woods on either side. He sprinted down the middle of the road.
Wind howled past his ears. After running for more than ten meters, Old Zhang realized there were no footsteps behind him and glanced back.
"You can't escape!"
The face on the back of his head was twisting and distorting, as if something was trying to bore its way out. The monstrous passenger was now only half a meter behind him.
"It wants to crawl into my brain." The driver had no idea why such a bizarre thought had entered his mind, but he ran forward with everything he had, not daring to look back again.
But some things don't cease to exist just because you stop looking at them.
The back of his head felt as though it were being pierced by needles—as if a sharp knife were slowly being driven into it.
"Help!"
He screamed until his throat was raw, but the only answer was dead silence.
His neck turned ice-cold and stiff; he no longer even had the strength to turn his head.
He ran slower and slower, the oxygen in his lungs squeezed dry. He simply couldn't go on.
"You'll get used to it." A sinister laugh drifted from the back of his head. The driver pushed forward desperately, but the area was far too desolate—old forest on both sides, and any vehicles that passed knew the crematorium was up ahead, so very few traveled this road at night.
The back of his head felt as if it were being split open. The pain was unbearable. His eyes rolled upward, and he felt himself on the verge of passing out.
"So much pain!" That single thought was all that remained in his mind. His thoughts grew hazy, and all he could think about was—when he woke up, would he too have become a monster with a face on the back of its head?
An icy sensation invaded his brain, churning his memories. Old Zhang finally couldn't hold on any longer.
With a thud, Old Zhang collapsed face-down on the ground. He braced himself with both hands, feeling a wave of cold wash over his back—as though a venomous snake were slithering up his spine, and he couldn't move to resist even if he wanted to.
The pain in the back of his head grew worse. Old Zhang tried to scream but couldn't produce a sound. He shook his head, trying to fling off whatever was attached to the back of it, but it was utterly futile.
"So much pain…"
He made no sound, yet a voice still echoed in his ears.
"Is that me speaking?"
Old Zhang's thoughts were in complete disarray. He struggled to look in the direction the voice was coming from.
The only source of light in the darkness was the car's headlights. The tree branches on both sides rustled, and something was approaching from the distance, barely visible.
"So much pain, so much pain!"
The agonized voice filled his ears. Old Zhang's face turned ashen—he realized the voice wasn't his own.
"Another monster?"
The driver lay crumpled on the ground, straining to keep his eyes open. All he'd ever wanted was to drive his taxi, earn a living, and support his family. He'd never imagined encountering anything so horrifying.
"When I die, will my body be taken somewhere for people to study?"
Bizarre thoughts began to flood his mind. The cold sensation on his back was slowly fading, but the pain in the back of his head showed no sign of diminishing.
Hearing that voice, the passenger seemed to sense danger too, and began to speed up.
"Why does the monster seem afraid as well?"
In the last few seconds before his eyes closed for good, he saw a taxi approaching from the distance.
He wanted to call out, to warn the other driver that this place was incredibly dangerous, but his mouth wouldn't open.
The car door swung open, and that lunatic he'd seen several times before jumped out with a bag in hand.
"How is it that I run into him everywhere?"
The bag was flung aside. The lunatic pulled out an outrageously shaped iron hammer and charged straight toward him.
"Now I'm really done for."