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In order to find out what happened that night, the four of us who lived downstairs were taken to the police for questioning. The tragedy of the four people in dormitory 414 being killed was discovered by the girls in the next-door dormitory 427.

It was a midwinter morning, the sky was particularly gloomy, the girls in 427 got up early to catch up with their classes, but unexpectedly found that dormitory 414 was pitch black and silent. Looking down, they saw thick black blood slowly flowing out from the crack of the door, which was horrifying.

Although the police quickly cordoned off the scene, some people took photos and circulated them in the group. The scene in the photo was terrifying: the room was full of blood and in pieces, like hell on earth.

Sara was so scared that she vomited when she saw the photo. Nana , Judy and I sat in the lounge of the police station, waiting to be questioned. The whole atmosphere was so depressing that it made people breathless.

We were filled with self-blame and doubt: If one of us had been impatient and gone up to take a look last night, would we have been able to stop the massacre? Even if we couldn't stop it, would we at least have seen the murderer's appearance and provided some clues to the case? However, everything was irreversible.

I even scolded them for being crazy when they were killed, and then turned over and slept until dawn. Now, I dare not sleep anymore. Whenever I lie in bed, I seem to see blood seeping from the ceiling, which makes me terrified.

Taking our mental state into consideration, the police specially invited a professional psychologist named Jane to "interrogate" us.