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I could see his face so clearly now… almost hear his voice. And, despite all the horror and hopelessness, I was fleetingly happy. So involved was I in my escapist daydreams, I lost all track of the seconds racing by.
现在，我是如此清晰的看到了他的脸……几乎都能听到他的声音了。尽管有如此多的恐惧和绝望，我依然抓住了这短暂的欢乐。我太沉迷于自己逃避现实的白日梦里了，以至于完全忘记了时间的流逝。
"Hey, what was the number?"
“嗨，门牌号是多少？”
The cabbie's question punctured my fantasy, letting all the colors run out of my lovely delusions. Fear, bleak and hard, was waiting to fill the empty space they left behind.
出租车司机的发问打破了我的白日梦，我幻觉里的所有色彩都荡然无存。恐惧，凄凉和艰难，正等着填补幻觉消失后所留下来的空白。
"Fifty-eight twenty-one." My voice sounded strangled. The cabbie looked at me, nervous that I was having an episode or something.
“5821。”我的声音听起来快要窒息了。那个司机紧张地看着我，就好像我是某个有趣的小插曲。
"Here we are, then." He was anxious to get me out of his car, probably hoping I wouldn't ask for my change.
“那么，你到了。”他不安地看着我下车，也许只是在希望着我不要让他找钱。
"Thank you," I whispered. There was no need to be afraid, I reminded myself. The house was empty. I had to hurry; my mom was waiting for me, frightened, depending on me.
“谢谢。”我喃喃低语着。没有必要感到害怕，我提醒自己。家里现在没人。我得抓紧时间。我的母亲正等着我，她一定已经吓坏了，只能指望我。
I ran to the door, reaching up automatically to grab the key under the eave. I unlocked the door. It was dark inside, empty, normal. I ran to the phone, turning on the kitchen light on my way. There, on the whiteboard, was a ten-digit number written in a small, neat hand. My fingers stumbled over the keypad, making mistakes. I had to hang up and start again. I concentrated only on the buttons this time, carefully pressing each one in turn. I was successful. I held the phone to my ear with a shaking hand. It rang only once.
我跑向大门，本能地伸出手去取屋檐下的钥匙。我打开了门。屋里很黑，空无一人，一切正常。我向电话机跑去，在路上打开了厨房的灯。在那里，就在那块白板上，写着一行十位数字，字迹小巧工整。我的手指颤抖着伸向电话键盘，却拨错了。我不得不挂上电话，重新拨号。这次我把注意力全都集中在按钮上，小心地按顺序按下每一个按钮。我成功了。我用颤抖的手把电话举到耳边。电话只响了一下就接通了。
