That's right, he did commit a hit-and-run, but he didn't intend to kill anyone. As for the passenger he picked up, that person is a murderer!

The radio paused for a moment, then deliberately lowered its voice:

"Now, let this story reach its climax..."

"Bang!"

Both the driver and William Clark looked toward the front windshield. On the glass, a girl with a twisted face was sprawled there, half of her face already caved in, yet she still stared at the people inside the car with her one remaining eyeball, grinning foolishly.

Immediately after, William Clark felt a chill behind him. He silently turned his head and saw a woman sitting in the back seat. There was a bloody gash on her chest, and thick, black blood was continuously oozing out.

As if she noticed William Clark's gaze, the woman split her mouth open and started to laugh as well:

"Hehehehe..."

Chapter Two: Hide Under the Bed!

A sour, foul smell suddenly wafted over. William Clark frowned slightly. This thirty-year-old driver had actually been so scared that he wet himself. He had the guts to flee after hitting someone, but not the courage to face the vengeful ghost?

But what exactly is going on here?

William Clark could be sure he wasn't hallucinating, which made the whole situation even more bizarre.

Instinctively, he tried to open the car door, but it was locked. The driver was now so terrified he didn't know what to do, just shrinking further under his seat. The little girl sprawled on the windshield kept staring at him with that foolish grin, which only made the driver even more petrified.

At the same time, William Clark felt a cold chill at the back of his neck. Looking down, he saw that the female office worker who had been sitting in the back seat was now crouched in the gap between the front and back seats, her hands tightly gripping his neck—just as he had done to her in the restroom before.

William Clark pulled out the knife and slashed it directly into the female office worker's wrist, but the next moment, the blade got stuck in her wrist and couldn't be pulled out.

Yet the strength in her hands didn't weaken in the slightest—in fact, it grew even stronger!

Breathing became more and more difficult, his lungs felt like they were about to burst, but William Clark felt as if he was born with a deep-seated psychosis. In this situation, his mind wasn't filled with fear or panic, but with absolute calm and excitement, as if he had returned to the thrill of killing once again.

His brain began to feel as if his whole body was floating, but William Clark knew this wasn't from excitement, but because his mind was starting to fade from lack of oxygen.

"Click..."

From the start, William Clark hadn't instinctively tried to pry her hands off with both of his own. One hand had used the knife, which failed—she was a corpse, and stabbing a corpse proved pointless.

With his other hand, he smoothly pulled the seat adjustment lever. The seat, bearing William Clark's weight, reclined all the way back, pinning the female office worker completely underneath it and forcing her hands to let go.

Taking a deep breath and suppressing the dizziness in his mind, William Clark pushed the seat away with both hands, then rolled sideways onto the driver, pressing the button to unlock the car doors. With a "click," the lock disengaged, and William Clark rolled out of the car through the driver's side door.

The car was still moving forward at about twenty miles per hour, but inside it didn't feel like it was moving at all. When William Clark hit the ground, inertia sent him rolling face-first several times, scraping himself in many places. Fortunately, he instinctively curled up, so his vital parts weren't injured.

The screech of sudden braking sounded. The driver seemed to finally realize what he needed to do. But just as he stopped the car and barely had time to reach for the handbrake, with his body only halfway out the door, the girl with the caved-in face was already hanging at the car door. Her mangled leg, held together by just a bit of skin and flesh, dangled in front of the driver, who immediately screamed again and shrank back into the car, with the girl crawling in after him.

William Clark quickly scrambled up from the ground. He didn't have time to check his injuries and immediately started running toward the side of the road.

"Clack..."

The back door opened, and the female office worker kept laughing as she started chasing after him, her shoes scraping against the ground with a harsh, grating sound.

As William Clark ran, he noticed the environment on both sides of the road was changing rapidly. What had been closed banks and convenience stores now turned into rows of unfinished buildings, exposed rebar, jutting concrete, and dense weeds, all looking desolate. The Passion Bar was in the city center—there shouldn't be buildings like this around.

Even the smooth road beneath his feet had turned into a muddy path littered with rubble.