could look into his face. There was not the slightest doubt. Despite the darkness and the feces and blood smeared face, Peter recognized the Englishman. The man who had murdered Ellen.
»Please, not back into the hall, Micama!« Kelly stammered, trembling with fear. »Iisononu cahisa!«
Every single day since Ellen’s death, Peter had at some point imagined how it would be to kill Kelly. One day. One sweet day. He had prepared a little speech that he wanted to deliver before sending Kelly off to hell. Every day. Every frigging day. Until the hatred that he was feeling for Kelly had formed a scab, which became a natural part of the person Peter Adam, like an inoperable ulcer. Something that was now part of him, for better or worse, discharging its poisonous secretions day after day after day. Something that would kill him one day.
And now he had him. Kelly. The lousy jerk. He could knock his brains out, right here and now, on the stone floor that was covered with Kelly’s feces.
Peter was gasping for air. The hatred he was feeling for Kelly mixed with the guilt of having betrayed Maria.
»Iisononu basajime, Micama!« Kelly whimpered quietly, adding, »Vaunala cahisa, Master! Kill me. And yet! Death, come here – I do not fear you. Please, kill me. Vaunala cahisa.«
»You lousy little rat! Shut your trap!« Peter drove one of his knees into the chest of the emaciated Englishman to keep him on the ground. Then he grabbed Kelly’s head. Kelly just stared at Peter and went limp.
»Yes,« he said. »Kill me. Please!«
Peter tightened his grip around Kelly’s head and was ready to slam it against the stone floor. Again and again and again.
Do it! Why do you hesitate?
Good question.
Because it is too easy.
As easy as it was to sell out Maria. As easy as it was to make a deadly mistake. As easy as it was to walk into a trap.
Peter let go of Kelly’s head and he let go of Kelly. With a moaning cry of pain, Kelly crawled on all fours into the corner at the far end of the cell.
Peter forced himself to breathe calmly and think rationally. Not so easy when you were held prisoner in a stinking dungeon, while the residues of some unknown drug was still circulating through your body.
Kelly continued to moan and babble in his corner.
»Why didn’t you kill me, Micama? No one will be spared. No one will get away. Laraji same darolanu matorebe, many hundreds of thousands uncounted that only fall to the scythe. Oxiavala holado.«
»Do you know who I am?« Peter asked him.
For a moment, there was silence in the corner. Then:
»Peter Adam. Ohyo! Ohyo! Noibe Ohyo!«
»Why do you want me to kill you?«
»Oanio yore vohima, Saitan. Ool jizod-yazoda od eoresa cocasaji, Saitan.« He began to sing softly. »What today is yet green and fresh, will be cut down tomorrow: the noble narcissus, ornament of the field, many fair hyacinths, the Turkish posies…«
Peter crawled over to Kelly, who was so scared that he tried to back away immediately.
»Calm down. I just want to talk to you. Tell me why you want me to kill you.«
Kelly stared at him like a frightened animal.
»Soon he will begin to cut and we can only suffer,« he sang. And then he whispered, »Because there are things that are far worse than death, Peter. You know that. And we in the darkness, we need to see. Telocahe! Casaremanu hoel-qo.«
»How did you get here, Kelly?«
»Bajile madarida. You brought me here. You came during the night. You took me out of the desert. Bajile hoel-qo. Where are you, little sun? The night chased you away, the night, the enemy of the day.«
Kelly wanted to get away from him but Peter held on to him.
»Was it on the night you murdered Ellen?«
Kelly gave a hoarse laugh and continued to sing his gloomy old songs. Peter began to shake him.
»I am warning you, Kelly!«
»Yes, kill me, Peter Adam! Vaunala cahisa! Save me. And if the last day turns into night, I will leave my valley of darkness.«
Peter pushed Kelly away from him.
»Please, not back into the hall, Micama!« Kelly stammered, trembling with fear. »Iisononu cahisa!«
Every single day since Ellen’s death, Peter had at some point imagined how it would be to kill Kelly. One day. One sweet day. He had prepared a little speech that he wanted to deliver before sending Kelly off to hell. Every day. Every frigging day. Until the hatred that he was feeling for Kelly had formed a scab, which became a natural part of the person Peter Adam, like an inoperable ulcer. Something that was now part of him, for better or worse, discharging its poisonous secretions day after day after day. Something that would kill him one day.
And now he had him. Kelly. The lousy jerk. He could knock his brains out, right here and now, on the stone floor that was covered with Kelly’s feces.
Peter was gasping for air. The hatred he was feeling for Kelly mixed with the guilt of having betrayed Maria.
»Iisononu basajime, Micama!« Kelly whimpered quietly, adding, »Vaunala cahisa, Master! Kill me. And yet! Death, come here – I do not fear you. Please, kill me. Vaunala cahisa.«
»You lousy little rat! Shut your trap!« Peter drove one of his knees into the chest of the emaciated Englishman to keep him on the ground. Then he grabbed Kelly’s head. Kelly just stared at Peter and went limp.
»Yes,« he said. »Kill me. Please!«
Peter tightened his grip around Kelly’s head and was ready to slam it against the stone floor. Again and again and again.
Do it! Why do you hesitate?
Good question.
Because it is too easy.
As easy as it was to sell out Maria. As easy as it was to make a deadly mistake. As easy as it was to walk into a trap.
Peter let go of Kelly’s head and he let go of Kelly. With a moaning cry of pain, Kelly crawled on all fours into the corner at the far end of the cell.
Peter forced himself to breathe calmly and think rationally. Not so easy when you were held prisoner in a stinking dungeon, while the residues of some unknown drug was still circulating through your body.
Kelly continued to moan and babble in his corner.
»Why didn’t you kill me, Micama? No one will be spared. No one will get away. Laraji same darolanu matorebe, many hundreds of thousands uncounted that only fall to the scythe. Oxiavala holado.«
»Do you know who I am?« Peter asked him.
For a moment, there was silence in the corner. Then:
»Peter Adam. Ohyo! Ohyo! Noibe Ohyo!«
»Why do you want me to kill you?«
»Oanio yore vohima, Saitan. Ool jizod-yazoda od eoresa cocasaji, Saitan.« He began to sing softly. »What today is yet green and fresh, will be cut down tomorrow: the noble narcissus, ornament of the field, many fair hyacinths, the Turkish posies…«
Peter crawled over to Kelly, who was so scared that he tried to back away immediately.
»Calm down. I just want to talk to you. Tell me why you want me to kill you.«
Kelly stared at him like a frightened animal.
»Soon he will begin to cut and we can only suffer,« he sang. And then he whispered, »Because there are things that are far worse than death, Peter. You know that. And we in the darkness, we need to see. Telocahe! Casaremanu hoel-qo.«
»How did you get here, Kelly?«
»Bajile madarida. You brought me here. You came during the night. You took me out of the desert. Bajile hoel-qo. Where are you, little sun? The night chased you away, the night, the enemy of the day.«
Kelly wanted to get away from him but Peter held on to him.
»Was it on the night you murdered Ellen?«
Kelly gave a hoarse laugh and continued to sing his gloomy old songs. Peter began to shake him.
»I am warning you, Kelly!«
»Yes, kill me, Peter Adam! Vaunala cahisa! Save me. And if the last day turns into night, I will leave my valley of darkness.«
Peter pushed Kelly away from him.
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