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她的名字被父亲唤做“猫娃”。八岁那年冬天的一个下午,上一年级的她背着书包蹦蹦跳跳地回到了自家低矮破旧的院子里。扎着两个羊角小辫的她眨着调皮的眼睛,蹑手蹑脚地推开了堂屋的木门。吱呀一声,门被推开了,眼前恐怖的一幕,吓得猫娃差点栽了个跟头。母亲的头发像稻草一样凌乱着,脑袋耷拉在胸前,目光呆滞而绝望。双手被粗麻绳捆绑着,整个人仿佛一条风干的腊肉被吊在屋顶的房梁上。
Her name is called by her father “cat doll.” One afternoon in her eight year old winter, she was bounced back to her dilapidated yard with her backpack in her first grade. She wore naughty pigtails twinkle naughty eyes, crept open the door of the wooden door. Squeak it, the door was pushed open, the scene before the horror, scared cat doll almost planted a little. Mother’s hair is as messy as a straw, her head puffed in her chest, his gaze sluggish and hopeless. His hands were tied up with ropes, and the whole man seemed to have a dried bacon hanging over the roof beams.