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Loud screams accompanied Jerry out, as if everything were about to start all over again. Door Number 1 closed behind him, disappearing; and hell was no longer around him.

Blood dripped from his hands; his heart raced at the speed of the sharp cutting objects, the brutal murders, and the Dwarf challenging the desire to erase them.

Three people had been decapitated, and two more mortally injured in the neck. Jerry heard Father Contini praying, before his head rolled. The other victims had barely the time to realize what was happening to them. Jerry was short of air.

In addition to the devoted priest, he thought he had recognized Doctor George Sarandon, his mom's former gynecologist who, often seen at the condo for friendly visits, didn't refrain from giving his professional opinions on Jerry, in exchange for publicity in scientific magazines and general media, even if for the most part, Jerry's conditions were outside his range of expertise and medical specialty.

Jerry had never met the others, but they knew him, and apparently way too well. Perhaps there was a woman among those dead people, maybe two; he tried to remember. The dramatic sequence of violence overtook every bit of space of his memory and didn't allow him to focus on the locations. He vaguely remembered another person with him, a man, or rather a moving silhouette, but couldn't recall his features, or anything else. Jerry felt that a controlling presence had undermined his willpower; but at times, it had also enhanced the inner instinct to impose his power over others that Jerry was growing more and more aware to have.

He knew whomever or whatever that essence was, it shared a common nature with him, almost a mutual root, which created a bond and yet an addictive evil energy. All he could recollect was the rage inside him.

Jerry took a deep breath out of desperation, wide opened his eyes, and saw darkness, while his ears could only hear silence. Isolated, he sat in an egg position, holding the legs against his chest.

"Mom? Forgive me! Please?" He rocked against his legs. "You raised me well, and I screwed up as soon as I had a chance. It was too easy to live by your values from inside a machine. Please forgive me," Jerry cried. "My heart is in a good place, but my brain must be ill, and it controlled my actions," he kept saying in tears. "How in hell, all of that was possible?" 'That's right, in Hell,' he thought.

Lost, Jerry hid the face in between his knees, whilst silk white gloves, floating in the air played Swan Lake on two violins and a piano.

The doors shed a green and golden glow, blasting the ambience at first, to become a spotlight that guided Jerry in front of Door Number 2, light blue with green edges and no knob. The music played softly in the background, embracing Jerry as if he were a musical note, leading his body toward the door, whose colors blended into a growing sky and trees of what seemed to be a vast city park with a lake in the middle, and grass everywhere. A few ducks swam together, ready to leave the right of way to the swans that elegantly skimmed the water behind them.

A light breeze on his skin betrayed a colder season than what the blue sky and sunlight had staged. The smell of the vegetation mixed with the odor of the city, just like the noise of the traffic blended with the voices of people gathered in small groups, either jogging in training gears or, in business suits, eating sandwiches.

Jerry nibbled his lips to hold back the tears, because he had learned of such things only from secondhand stories or by reading books and watching movies, but his senses had never experienced any of that. This is what he dreamed of, by looking out of the window of his room. But when a child bumped into him, the memory of the Dwarf immediately came back.

Fear soon transformed into a smile, when Jerry looked at a boy running behind a kite, concerned to have lost it. By instinct, Jerry grabbed the wire and gave it back to the kid, who skipped away without thanking him. Jerry followed the kite with his eyes, up in a sky way bigger than the one outside of his window. He wondered if the kite could reach the clouds, still adjusting his perception of size and distance.

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