𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐠𝐞 𝐎𝐟 𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐞

𝟐𝟒. 𝐁𝐮𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐎𝐟 𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐮𝐧𝐞

" January 30 / 1957

I am a bird, I am bird in a cage but I broke free, I broke free from my cage and I flew away, at least for now.

This is how it happened.

It was a usual day as all the other dark days in that basement, with the dead bodies piling up next to me. He came, I heard his footsteps running down the staircase until his body was visible. He came as usual with his knife. He unchained my leg while caressing it with his disgusting hands and I stood still. I couldn't do anything. I couldn't push him away.

He forcefully grabbed me by the hand and dragged me until the bathroom. As we were walking I could feel his eyes on my body, watching my every move.

To any outsider it would have looked like an act of caring. A man leading his woman to the bathroom. But I knew what it was. I knew he would kill me in a way that looked like a natural death. Sooner or later that would happen and I couldn't leave my fate in the hands of a psychopath.

That little kind gesture of his was more danger to me than a loaded gun to my head, at least the gun would be quick. He would make sure that I suffered like all of his victims, he wouldn't poison me, I was sure. He would kill me with his bare hands to have more pleasure, more satisfaction.

I took off all my clothes and slowly entered the bath tub while he took a chair and sat in front of me, facing me. He sat there without saying a word and he grinned every time he saw me bending down. His mind as well as his soul were sick, he was a psychopath and I was wondering how did I ever love someone like him.

As I was showering his eyes were following each move I made, each breath I took. While I was washing my legs he slapped me hard across the face because I wasn't doing it as he wanted me to. It had been an open handed smack and it had left a red welt behind. Just below my eye was a small cut where his ring had caught me. I staggered backwards, clutching my face, eyes watering.

When black dots quitted covering my vision,  I stood straight in the middle of the bath tub trying to catch something to keep my balance. He just yelled at me to keep going or he wouldn't give me food for at least a week, I wouldn't beg again, I couldn't.

I couldn't hold it back anymore, I had tried to be strong but I couldn't anymore. Tears started falling from my eyes uncontrollably. As soon as he saw me he quickly got up from his chair, turned me around and caught my hands. My arms were tightly behind my back, the pain of his hold had caused me to let out a startled little gasp of pain. He told me to never cry again. Things would get better for me, he said. I would be happy, he said.

He let my hands free but at that moment my eyes were blurred from my tears, my hands were trembling and I was hurting. Both physically and mentally. Tears started running down my cheeks but I didn't dare to turn and face him. He yelled at me to turn but my body was frozen.

He grabbed my shoulder forcefully sending pain all over my hand but I didn't dare to turn. It was now or never. With the corner of my eye I saw the razor hanging next to the soap. I just had to grab it and then use it. I saw the razor hanging there as a bird ready to fly away, as my freedom ready to fly away, ready to become water in my hands and get lost forever. I couldn't let this happen. I fell to the side on purpose just to have a chance to grab the razor.

As I was holding it firmly into my hand I felt it cutting me deep but at that point the hurt I was feeling was nothing compared to what I had been through. I immediately turned around. My scream tore through me like a great shard of glass, I felt my eyes widen with anger and my pulse quickening. My heart was thudding like a rock rattling in box.

As I turned he saw me holding the razor, our faces were unreadable. No fear, no invitational smirk. Then suddenly, movement, so much force in every blow. I started hitting him with my hands and he was hitting me back, leaving his mark everywhere he touched. We didn't just want the other dead, we wanted us smashed, obliterated, nothing left to bury.

I lifted my hand while holding as firmly as I could the razor, I attacked him with everything I had, with all my force. I sliced his face and as I did it I felt his soft flesh opening in half as hot blood splashed my face and my naked body. He grabbed me with both hands causing the razor fall down. I was defenseless. He threw me against the wall and as I hit my head a loud creak sounded. I lifted my hands and touched my head, a lot of blood was coming out and I felt dizzy but I had to continue fighting.

I was watching my own pale hands, covered with scarlet blood. A small sob worked its way out of my throat and I crumpled to my knees, not taking my eyes off of my hands. My bloody hands. I grabbed again the razor and jumped on him but he put his hands in front of his face to try and stop me. With all of my strength I pierced the razor through his hand, I didn't stop pushing the razor deeper until I heard the bones of his hand break and the razor slicing his flesh like meat.

He fell backwards, his face closed in a grimace, his skin pale and clammy. His eyes were widen and he let out a scream of pain. Blood was running uncontrollably to the floor making the illusion that the bathroom was a butchery.

I forcefully pushed him to the side, grabbed my clothes and run as fast as I could. I quickly wore my clothes and rushed to the front door. Colorful spots flashed in front of my eyes, every movement caused some muscle or bone to ache. Regardless, I needed to get out of here. Away from him.

Wincing in pain I started grabbing the corners of the furniture to help me pull myself. I grabbed the door but it wouldn't open, it was locked. No, no, I heard him screaming, I knew he was going to come after me. He was going to kill me. A thousand thoughts were racing in my mind but I did the only thing I could. I jumped onto the couch, pulled quickly the curtains and launched out of the window. I fell to the ground below me with a loud thud.

This is how it happened, this is how I got away, away from him.

I thought to myself that, in our current reality, we must discontinue our desperate attempt at pursuing a life which leads to a special existence we all secretly desire. I had made mistakes, plenty of them. It was in that quest of a deceptive end of expected euphoria that I essentially discovered I had already worn a path not worth treading. Maybe I had to step back, and stop trying to formulate something that had already been invented by untarnished hands."