Post by account_disabled on Dec 13, 2023 1:28:37 GMT -4
Yet he advanced towards the building sleeping in silence, the windows always closed, apparently uninhabited. He wondered what he would find inside. He wondered how he would get in. But was he really there to enter? He headed towards the western side and stopped. Not a sound came from the countryside, as if life had suddenly fallen silent to reveal the advance of that unexpected guest. The man approached the wall of the house, looking for a half-open window, but he doubted that in the cold of late autumn the old man had left even a single crack open.
On the ground floor of that side he saw two windows, both sealed, as were those on the first floor. He had decided to look at the back when a hand rested on his shoulder and everything became even blacker. *** The pain comes to its awakening. She cannot know whether it is day or still night. There are no windows in the room, but only that light bulb that Phone Number Data divides the moments of rest from those of wakefulness. And the vigil is her torture. His only relief is when the man leaves and takes off that strange mask. But when he comes back he puts it back and then the child knows. He knows that the time for pain and tears has come. He knows that he won't be able to scream, otherwise the man's anger will make him suffer even more.
And he knows that there is nothing left to do but cry, cry, cry all the tears possible. He never gets to see the man's face. He remains on the sidelines, inflicting his tortures without showing himself. Sometimes she stays behind the child and enjoys seeing how you look for him, without ever finding him. And, when the little boy seems resigned to his impotence, she hits him. The pain is excruciating. The man seems to know perfectly how to cause suffering, how to terrorize a victim. He begins with silence, after applying the mask. The child hears a sound like glass against glass. Then metallic noises. Something mechanical that clicks. Steps in the dark. A sigh, as if from someone expecting immense pleasure.
On the ground floor of that side he saw two windows, both sealed, as were those on the first floor. He had decided to look at the back when a hand rested on his shoulder and everything became even blacker. *** The pain comes to its awakening. She cannot know whether it is day or still night. There are no windows in the room, but only that light bulb that Phone Number Data divides the moments of rest from those of wakefulness. And the vigil is her torture. His only relief is when the man leaves and takes off that strange mask. But when he comes back he puts it back and then the child knows. He knows that the time for pain and tears has come. He knows that he won't be able to scream, otherwise the man's anger will make him suffer even more.
And he knows that there is nothing left to do but cry, cry, cry all the tears possible. He never gets to see the man's face. He remains on the sidelines, inflicting his tortures without showing himself. Sometimes she stays behind the child and enjoys seeing how you look for him, without ever finding him. And, when the little boy seems resigned to his impotence, she hits him. The pain is excruciating. The man seems to know perfectly how to cause suffering, how to terrorize a victim. He begins with silence, after applying the mask. The child hears a sound like glass against glass. Then metallic noises. Something mechanical that clicks. Steps in the dark. A sigh, as if from someone expecting immense pleasure.