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  "The slaves were born to follow laws of World -
  That"s why the Murder couldn"t be your fault".
  * * *
  "From the evidences of Julian Losh, accused of the fivehold murder, commited with the extreme cruelty (the file no. 379, page no. 66):
  Accuser (later - A.): "Please, try to explain me once again: WHY did you commit this crime?
  Julian Losh (later - J.L.): "It was a revenge".
  A.: "Revenge on what?"
  J.L.: "On Bozhena Schlosser"s murder".
  A.: "Bozhena Schlosser hasn"t been killed. She"s commited a suicide".
  J.L.: "No, it"s wrong".
  A.: "The investigation has already proved that fact for sure".
  J.L.: "No, it"s wrong".
  A.: "Why are you so sure that Bozhena Schlosser has been exactly murdered?"
  J.L.: "Because I know that".
  A.: "How could you actually know that? Bozhena Schlosser died eleven years ago, at 17th of September, 1996. It happened in her house in Sofia. At this time you were living at another place, in the town of Milava. This town is situated in three hundred kilometres away from Sofia. You were twelve years old and you haven"t been acquianted with miss Schlosser".
  J.L.: "It doesn"t matter. I know that she was murdered. I have already explained you everything I could. You just don"t understand. I have already told you how did I find out the truth about her death. I don"t care if you believe me or not. Bozhena was murdered, and I learned the name of her murderer. I"ve only done what I had to do, because every death must be avenged. Bozhena chose me to do that for her - otherwise I would never even see her face".
  - PAUSE.
  A.: "All right. Let"s imagine for a while, that I really do believe you. So please answer my questions then. What were you doing at the evening of last Sunday, 29th of July, 2007?"
  J.L.: "I simply took the knife and left to the murderer to send her nasty soul to Hell for the things she"s done to Bozhena".
  A.: "What time it was exactly?"
  J.L.: "Half-past eleven of the evening. I just woke up... I had another nightmare. I have it almost every night since I moved to Sofia. I was madly scared... I was in a total despair. I thought I couldn"t survive through those days and so sooner or later I would simply go insane. The last nightmare hadn"t though anything of similar with all the others, it wasn"t even a nightmare as we understand it, but it did really scare me. I felt absolutely exhausted, empty and broken... I took some medicine to calm down, but it only made me feel even worse than before..."
  A.: "What medicine did you mention?"
  A.: "Do you hear me? I"ve asked the question. What medicine did you mention? Do you use the drugs?"
  J.L.: "Yes. The morphine. I suffer from cancer. I must do it! I must do it for several times per day, every single day! You simply can"t imagine what a freaky pain the cancer bring you everytime you wake up!..."
  A.: "So you took a morphine before you left to the Baven"s family? You won"t deny that?"
  J.L.: "No, I won"t deny that. But the morphine hasn"t been the reason..."
  A.: "I see. How did you learn the Baven"s family address?"
  J.L.: "I found a very old postacrd Bozhena has somewhen sent to her. There was Elisabeth Baven"s address written on the postcard".
  A.: "The postcard was sent to miss Baven fourteen years ago. She could move to another house, street or even city or country. Why did you decide to check that address out anyway?"
  J.L.: "Because if there would be a senseless trying, I wouldn"t find that postcard at all. But I found that postcard because I had to learn the address. And I had to learn the address, because it"s still been correct. Because whatever would happen, I needed to find that slut anyway and to cut her throat through for the things she"d sone, do you understand?! Nothing happens with no reason! We all just play the roles, that have been already written for us for long ago! It was my role to revenge for her death, even though I haven"t even seen her standing in front of me! But somehow I anyway HAD TO do it, do you understand?! I was chosen! That"s why I moved exactly to Sofia, in spite of the invitations I received from my relatives from Varna! That"s why I took in a rent exactly Bozhena"s house, though there are hundreds of rentable houses in Sofia and so I could pick any of them! Why you"re still silent, sir?! You don"t know what to say? You might think that it was just an occassional chance, but you simply couldn"t not to notice, that there were TOO MANY matches for the occasional chance... weren"t that?"
  A: "Go on. What has happened after you finally found the Baven"s family house?"
  J.L.: "I knocked on the door. Many times. Nobody"s been about to open it for several minutes".
  A.: "And then, who opened the door finally?"
  J.L.: "Elisabeth did. I recognized her immediately".
  A.: "How could you recognize her if you haven"t even seen her before?"
  J.L.: "I"ve seen her. I have already told you about it".
  A.: "How could you see her? You found a photo at miss Schlosser"s house?"
  J.L.: "No. I have already told you about that".
  A.: "All right. Go on. Tell me everything you still do remember about that night".
  J.L.: "She was crying. She was trying to explain that she was freaky scared. She was lying that Bozhena had been taking the drugs and that she had died from overdose. But I knew it was all just a lie and so I told her the truth. She kept on crying. She was deceiving me that she had never wanted to harm Bozhena, that she had been always in love with her, but Bozhena simply hadn"t left her any choise and so the murder had been the only chance for salvation. But I told her to shut her dirty stinky mouth, because I felt disgusted, listening all the lie..."
  A.: "What have you done after that?"
  J.L.: "Her husband came downstairs. He wasn"t brave enough to attack me like any other man, protecting his family, would surely do. But he did not. He firstly was only standing at the doors and movelessly staring at me. Then he asked me to put the knife down on the floor, otherwise he said he was going to call to the police station and they would arrive there in seven minutes. I denied. And right when he made a slight move to the telephone, I did hit him by the knife right in the heart firstly, and then at the stomach. Ten or fifteen times. He fell down on the floor, being already dead".
  A.: "What was Elisabeth Baven doing at that time?"
  J.L.: "She was screaming like an insane and crying hysterically. When I turned to her, she ran upstairs and tried to hide from me in the small corner room. But she had no time to lock it with the key, and so I had the possibility to enter the door and to come in easily. It was a childish room. A bedroom. There were three children in that room: two girls, her daughters, who both were already about ten years old, and an infant, her son, who was also loudly whining. She was standing on her knees and begging me in the absolute despair to have mercy though on her little innocent children..."
  A.: "But you stayed deaf to her plea, didn"t you?"
  J.L.: "Yes, I did. Because she was a murderer. She commited an unforgivable sin. Having mercy on a murderer means being dreadfully cruel and stonehearted. I"ve only done what I had to do for Bozhena. Revenge... she had the right to be avenged in the end".
  A.: "And so you murdered Elisabeth Baven and her children".
  J.L.: "Yes. I am the murderer"s murderer: I murdered her, you"re right. And then I murdered her children. At first I murdered her daughter, who wore a pink silky dress. At second I murdered her daughter who wore a green silky dress. And at last I murdered her son, who was whining and screaming in his cradle. I pushed my knife into his stomac and didn"t pull it out to make it clear for everyone that I"ve done what I had to do for Bozhena. And then I left awat. I was crawling around Sofia and kept on thinking that I could be at the places Bozhena"s somewhen been too. At six o"clock of the morning I bought a ticket for the very first tram and rode back home. At home I made another one injection of morphine and simply lost my conscious".
  "It must be the very last night. Before what? Before the choise. There must be the night of the choise. If she returns to me once again, I... I swear I will runaway. I will runaway from this damned town and will never come back here again. She... she makes me feel madly scared, and I can"t believe there could be anything protecting me from this fear. She... she is everything and even more than everything. The only thing I know for sure is that I will never find a sanctuary where I could hide from her... is that she will anyway achieve me, anywhere will find me... oh God... she made me understand I"ve been doomed... she... she... Jesus Christ...
  I don"t know who is she. I have seen her face already for thousand times, but I still can"t recognize it. I have never met this woman before... and so I simply couldn"t underdstand WHY did she choose me, WHY did she come exactly to me, WHAT does she need from me... I don"t know, I have no answers and I am totally at loss what to do now... but she didn"t leave me a choise... if she comes here tonight, I will runaway from here and forget Milava till the rest of my life. I simply CAN"T stay where she is. I simply CAN"T close my eyes in the room she appears in too!... she always seems to be approaching right from the air and twilight! She can do it at any moment, exactly when she wants, and I... I feel so freaky helpless in front of her... I can"t even imagine WHAT could she do to me... I don"t know... I can"t even suppose or guess anything... I"m so lost and broken because of her... oh God, that"s all because of her!... why, WHY, WHAT FOR?!... I don"t wanna go insane! I don"t wanna die because of her! But maybe... maybe it"s all not right... maybe that"s all not because of her, but because of me... of my own fear... wise people say there"s nothing in the world worth of fear except fear on it"s own. Maybe she truly is a blessing, not a curse, just I still couldn"t confess in it to myself... no! NO!... I can"t believe in it! I CAN"T! It simply can"t be a truth!... Jesus Christ!... calm down! CALM DOWN RIGHT NOW! I"m ordering to you! Calm down right now! Close your eyes, relax and try to breathe deeper and slower... it"s almost a midnight already... remember about your God finally! Read a prayer to Him, confess, repent and beg Him for salvation!... He has a kind huge heart. He will hear you and won"t let her ever come back to your house again!... and... and if not... then I will pack my things and runaway. Where? I have already realised that. I will runaway to Sofia. Yes. Exactly. I will runaway to Sofia. I will take in a rent a small house next to the Vardar underground station... yes. I will stay at that place. Forever... and I will never come back here to Milava. And SHE WILL NEVER find me... she will never find me... NEVER AGAIN!..."
  It was the very last line of the very last page of his diary. Julian closed the copybook and locked it in the box of the massive black table, hidden in the corner of the bedroom. He was breathing quickly and hard, almost feeling suffocate, because the breath has been slowly, but inevitably running out of his control; the heartbeating has been turning into the painful torment and the pulsation of blood nearly has been tearing his fragile veins apart.
  - Calm down, please, calm down, - he was murmuring these words like a magic spell, trying to assure himself it would save his life... but he simply couldn"t feel at safe. He turned the yellowish electric light off and heavily fell down on the cold and tough like a stone bed. The darkness and the moist night cold were pouring into the room through the widely opened windows.
  - Calm down, calm down, please...
  He suddenly realised that he doesn"t feel his body anymore. He made a very deep painful breath and all turned into the listening, but listening to the silence as as hurt as watching through the blinding artificial light. There was only an almost soundless tick of the wall clocks left in the bedroom, but soon this sound has begun slowly dissolving in the emptyness. The emptiness has become absolute - as absolute as a comatose dream, and so Julian has assured himself that it really had been a dream. But it had not. And it hadn"t been a reality as well. It was a vision, something different both from dream and from reality... and then SHE came in. It was exacly the time she appears next to him. At the very first moment he simply felt her existence by the skin, by the blood... as the skin gets frozen and the blood turns into the sharp splinters of ice, scratching the veins, everytime she penetrates inside of his tiny shelter. He quickly opened his eyes and tried to stand up from the bed, but the bed seemed to be turned into a coffin, and he couldn"t control his body at all... he could only look at her and... and without any reason try to seize her breath, but she wasn"t breathing. She was only staring at him, like a snake, with a magical mesmerizing sight; and slowly, harmoniously moving, so that it seemed like if she was sliding on the air, like a moth, and wasn"t even slightly touching the floor. She was neither a ghost, nor a human in a material flesh - she was something different, only it was impossible to understand what exactly she was. She had a snowwhite skin, seemed to be transparent and liquid, like a melting ice. She had a huge green eyes and a very long black hair, hiding her braist and shoulders. Her fragile and seeming to be made of glass figure was all hidden under the dark nun"s dress, and she was holding a massive silver orthodox cross in her hands. She was neither smiling, nor crying or looking scared: her face was reflecting nothing but calm assurance and maybe though sometimes it could be almost possible to notice a slight sadness deep inside her eyes. She came neither to destory, nor to create, neither to murder, nor to protect. She simply CAME - and maybe it was the only thing that truly made her victim (?) scared to death. She has spent next to Julian"s bed, like next to the coffin of deceased, almost all the night, like a strange speechless guardian. And then, when the very first sunrays touched the sky with a gold, she melted in the cool air and disappeared with all the secret signs of her existence in this room. Julian realised she had already faded away because of warmth, pouring into the air and letting him breathe easier and freely. Another night was over, and this night should have become the very last before the DECISION, and Julian took this decision. He ranaway without saying a word. He thought that if he tells though anyone about the nighttime visions, tormenting him like a dicease, a woman, appearing in it, would rush inside of his mind, read those thoughts and will soon find his new sanctuary, guiding by it like by the Ariadna"s string. And so it would be absolutely right not to let anyone every learn where he has left.
  - Calm down, please, calm down... she will never find you... you"re at safe now...
  But the feeling that she"s still watching him has been immortal like the immortality itself - and there couldn"t be even a hope for salvation. He"s already accepted his doom fully, denying to fight against it.
  It was Thursday, 26th of July. His very first day in Sofia. He spent all the morning in the rushing train, filling with a rumble and suffocating heat, and about a midday he finally achived to the city. There was raining in Sofia, and because of evaporation the air got so heavy, that it was almost impossible to breathe. Julian left the train station and, collecting the miserable sum of money he had in his pockets, stopped the taxi.
  - To the Vardar station, please, - he said and, being absolutely exhausted because of the ride, heavily sat down in the filled with the same suffocative sultriness car.
  The house at the Vardar station was given to him in a rent for a few hundreds, and that was strange that Julian noticed nothing suspicious neither in a ridiculuously low price for such rent, not in the gestures and words of the owner, who did really agree to that deal TOO quickly. It seemed like if her only wish was simply to GET HERSELF FREE from that house, like from the damned present of a witch, for any price, for any condition. It was so easy to see, so opened-minded that it simply couldn"t not to scare... but Julian didn"t notice anything. He payed the money for the first week, that was about to last in this house, and almost calmly, almost without a fear, entered that little temple. He quickly look around, quickly rushed through four small rooms it was consisted of and locked himself in a bathroom. He threw a very fast, occassional and contemptible sight om his own reflection in the huge round mirror on the wall and closed his eyes. He made a deep breath. He finally understood what was going on with him at the last minutes; he didn"t finf a new true asylum, and he didn"t also accepted his mad nighttime visions as a blessing from Jesus Christ. He simply has been too tired and exhausted to feel a fear, to be scared of anything... yes, and even of HER. He took the glass with a morphine and made an injection. After that, when the drug mixed with his poisonous boiling blood, he almost absolutely lost a consciouss".
  * * *
  Julian Losh"s diary;
  26th of July, Thursday:
  "This is the very first line of the very first page of my diary. My NEW diary. I only decided to begin writing it because, riding here at Sofia this morning, I thought that everything passed will now forever stay in the past, and here is no place for the past, here"s everything survives just in the presence and future, just for the NEW life of my own in this -future... but I was so freaky mistaken, that... no matter. I"ve understood that I will never force my past to leave away and to open the doors for the future... no, it won"t ever happen. It"s all just an illusion, an utopia dream... I took the part of my past here with me, into the future...
  When the comatose after morphine intoxication slowly, as always, began to disappear and to set me free from the nets, I realised I finally had to unpack my things and to look around the house properly. I simply opened two of mine roadbags and thew everything carried in it everywhere around me - on the bed, on the arm-chairs, on the floor... there was a real mess now, but I decided to think that the luggage has been unpacked... now I guess that I probably wanted, tried - not realising it, of course, - to make it impossible to find though anythingin this chaos, like if I could strangely predict WHAT exactly I will have to find here and WHY I was so scared to find it... I know, it all seemed to be too delirious, but it was exactly what happened with me here, in that strange house at the north of Sofia.
  It was about eight o"clock of the evening when I began to discover the rooms. There were casual little rooms of my house in Milava or my relatives" house in Varna. Right, definetly nothing of suspicious. But I"ve found there something that made me panically scared. There were three simple casual things, lying in the box of the wardrobe of the smalles room, seemed to be somewhen used as a bedroom. There was an envelope without the address of a receiver, and inside of this envelope I found a trampled piece of paper with a sign: "Do never read someone else"s letters!". There was also an old postcard with the sights of unknown, but very gloom, enigmatic and mysterious city, and also the following address: "Sofia, Serdika, 23, to Elisabeth Baven". I don"t know who exactly Elisabeth Baven is, but I anyway remembered her name... and also I found a small photo, dated by the 16th of September, 1996; this photo did render two women at the age of twenty five, and there also were their names signed on the backside of the picture - Elisabeth Baven and Bozhena Schlosser. The woman named Elisabeth Baven was absolutely unfamiliar to me: I couldn"t recognize her face and I was convinced that I hadn"t ever met her before. But another woman, rendered on the photo... I knew her. I"ve seen her for thousand times. Bozhena Schlosser... it was a woman I found in my visions! It was her! It was a woman who appeared from nothing in my room every single night!... oh God, it was her! It was Bozhena Schlosser!... Jesus Christ... I couldn"t describe what I was feeling at the moment when I saw her face on the picture... the very last of my hopes, of my illusions, that still did let me to stay alive, has been shattered... because I really hoped, prayed, forced myself to think that it had been nothing more buth the gallucination, coming to my consciouss because of the morphine intoxication... yes, because of the drugs only... and because of the death. Cancer is a slow, painful and tormenting death, and neither your mind, nor your consciouss could hide from it, because it keeps on coming, because it is closer to you with every moment, and you stay helpless, facing it all alone... but now I know that neither morphine, nor even death created that gallucination, because it hasn"t ever been the gallucination at all!... it was true. Bozhena Schlosser is a real, alive, material human of flesh and blood, and the house I am now living ion has somewhen been or maybe still is HER house... yes, maybe this sanctuary still belongs to her... that means I"m in a trap... I only wanted to learn why did I have to get in this trap, what for... I am not scared of death - now, looking at those postcard and a photo, I realise it especcially clear and more absolute than before. So, maybe, if I"m not going to get scared to death, I have the right to say that I am read to find the truth out now".
  27th of July, Friday:
  "I spent whole the day, just crawling around the city and trying to find something-I-don"t-know-what during all that time. I was walking on a streets, like a zombie, so that people I occassionally met there were too strangely staring at me... but aguess I had the silent unexpressed hope to appear suddenly on a street Bozhena"s somewhen been too, to touch the fences and the walls she was touching too, to feel her existence here in this city... I wanted to meet her, to look at her, to tell her something and to hear her voice, and with the every single moment this desire became stronger and stronger, because somebody or something didn"t let it come true.
  At five o"clock of the evening I came back home... still can"t understand how to call this place properly: MY home or BOZHENA"S home... and I still hope to find the answer on that question somewhen... at home I tried to assure myself that Bozhena is already dead and she will never come here again to crash the peace of those who are still alive - simply because GOD will not let her do that to me, to all of us... but each of my tryings came in vain. I made another one morphine injection to win a couple of hours from pain once again. I forced myself to eat something for dinner, though the food brought me nothing but disgust. And then I fell asleep... or at least it seemed like if I truly felt asleep, but it was wrong. Things I have seen came not from the dream, but from the vision... again... once more... this is the only thing I am absolutely sure in: such kind of visions is always too clear and too complete for a dream, even for a freaky complicated nightmare, which has it"s power over you even after the morning comes and chases the darkness away. I can"t understand anyway - even now, when it actually has already drowned in the past, - WHAT exactly it has been... maybe just the chain of little but truly important events, happened in this bedroom. Somewhen... a few years ago... yes. I know the real date. I saw it. It was the 17th of September, 1996. I noticed that on the calendar, hanging on the wall. The calendar was surrounded by the symbols of christian religion and satanism at the same time, written on the black wall-papers by something... something very similar with a blood. I was trying to watch through the signs with attention and nearly felt the pain in the eyes. I found there also the letters of pagan alphabeth and some strange unclear writings on hebrew and latin. As far as I could realise, there the signs, showing out all the essential terms of our belief, on the walls of that room. There were also thirteen - I did count - feathers of the black crow, pasted on the walls. I couldn"t look around all the room, but the things I had the possibility to see did anyway explain me a lot... I saw the books. Hundreds, thousands, millions of book, huge, antuque, glittering by the golden letters on the covers - the books were everywhere in that room: on the tables, on the shelves, in the bookcases, on the window sill, even on the bed, which was actually very similar with an old wood coffin. The room was only lighted by the candles of black and red colors, and it"s shivering flame was falling down on the set of strange things, lying on the table... there were small round mirrors in the black frames, very thin and glittering by the ice steel daggers, the ground, the tiny glass bottles, filled with something I can"t determine, but similar to thickened absinthe, the yellow decayed pages, torn out of the books, and some dryed plants and flowers... and a lot of subjects I"ve just never seen before... oh, God...
  - Burn a witch! Burn a witch! She is standing on the Devil"s side! She is with the Devil! She sold her soul to Him!...
  I really can"t understand, but that was the first and the last thought which suddenly came to my mind when I slightly began to realise WHAT I"ve seen in this room, and WHY I had to see it... and then... then I saw two women who entered the room. There were Bozhena and Elisabeth - I quickly recognized them both. They were smiling and holding the cups of tea or coffee in their hands. They sat on that bed, so similar with the old wood coffin, and began to talk. At first minutes their low harmonious voices were sounding too silently to let me understand though anything from their conversation, but later I realised I could determine some words, and then also the full coherent phrases:
  - It was exactly what daddy Marian always told me. He simply said: "You have the right to believe both in Heaven and Hell, but living on the Earth you must think of your life on the Earth, and not of your life in Heaven or Hell".
  I remember those words. Bozhena was looking like if she has truly been blessed, when she was pronouncing that. It was absolutely clear that she enjoyed by talking about it, by repeating the words... of daddy Marian... that each memory of him made her feel the total pulsating exctacy under the skin. She repeated his name hundred timrs - and she did always call him exactly this way - "daddy Marian". She mentioned a lot of freaky things and love blinding spells, which I couldn"t understand properly, because aguess there simply wasn"t any need for me to understand it properly... I only had to see Bozhena talking about it so passionfully. To see how beautiful she was. To see her surrounded by self-created little mysterious Universe... and yes, Elisabeth Baven wasn"t really a part of this Universe, and she even had no right to try to become it. When Bozhena was speaking about "daddy Marian", playing with her memories like with the bright toys, she couldn"t notice something in the eyes of that woman. And that "something" was nothing else but the fear. A terrible, panic, uncontrolable fear, that was greedy eating her from inside. She was madly scared of daddy Marian and of every little thing his daughter learned from him and now was about to share... that was all I had to see... all the other things happened so quickly and suddenly that I nearly lost my mind and my conscious, trying to figure it out. Bozhena made another drink, then dropped the cup of her hands and suddenly collapsed on the floor. She made six or seven unnaturally tough shivering movings, like in the agony, and then stopped breathing. I saw the thick bloodred foam, pouring out of her nose and mouth... it was clear that she was already dead. And Elisabeth... Elisabeth fell down on her knees, shook Bozhena"s white hands and began to cry... it was all I had the right to learn - at least tonight. No more. After the vision disappeared, I woke up, feeling hysterically excited, quickly took my diary and now I"m still trying to write in everything I remember, to save as much as it"s possible... allowed to me on these pages".
  28th of July, 2007, Saturday:
  "I discovered all the house today, searching for any another sign of Bozhena"s existence here, but everything was in vain... almost everything. Aguess after her death a new owner, who bought the house, decided to clean it from everything though somehow connected with the past. I really couldn"t understand why this woman was trying to dot it with such a mad fanatic jealousy, why it all was so necessary... it seemed to be happened without any reason... but later, remembering each small detail of my last nighttime vision, imagining the things Bozhena could be doing during her strange short life, I slowly, but surely began to realise, why the new owner of this house was so furiously trying to separate herself from Bozhena"s past life at this place. I still don"t know who Bozhena really was. But I am sure that she... she wasn"t like everybody esle around her... she was too special to have the doom to spend the ordinary life of a young beautiful woman, to enjoy the ordinary happiness, the ordinary love, to do the ordinary things... she was strange... she was bizarre and aguess she made the people around here feel dreadfully scared - and, maybe, even without her fault and desire. Maybe, it all was only daddy Marian"s fault - at least I can suppose it now... but... I know for sure that Bozhena did always love him - and so I have no right to sound like that and to blame him on anything.
  Already about evening my senceless furious tryings to find something connected with Bozhena and her family did finally succeed. I found the old newspaper, kept somewhere in the bookcase of living room. It was a local Sofia newspaper, dated by the 12th of May, 1983. I saw a big black-and-white picture there. This photo did render a young beautiful man with a very long black hair and huge eyes; the mad fanatic fire of those eyes was easily felt by the skin even through the old photo. This man had three tattoes on his arms: there were the drawings in the form of pagan alphabeth letters. It was exactly him, exactly daddy Marian, like his daughter always called him. And Bozhena was too standing next to him on that photo. She was about twelve years old on that picture, charming and pure like an angel, sent down from from Heaven. It seemed to be that I could look at her forever, admiring of her childish tender face... but I noticed one strange, outrageous thing on that picture. It was the sight she threw on her father. It surely wasn"t the sight of a daughter, who"s just so delighted with her father. It was a sight of a mistress on her lover, passionfull, luscious, lewd and nasty, but at the same time childishly pure and even... even naive... and the only thing that really made me scared was... was that I felt a terrible, uncontrolable jealousy because of her... JEALOUSY... and lust... LUST. Two mortal sins. I wanted her to be mine... I so freaky wanted hger to be only mine till the very end! And God, I want You to damn that nasty slut who poisoned her and then began to cry next to her breathless corpse! I hate her! I HATE HER! I promise You, my Lord, that I will kill her and everyone she"s ever loved, if only You don"t do it before!... yes... I felt and still can feel the mad furiousity and hate mixed with the lust... it was uncontrolable and undeniable as well... this excitement took my last powers away, and I nearly lost my conscious again... I made an injection, and soon, penetrating in the blood and skincells, the morphine somehow helped me feel more alive than dead... when the strength came back into my flesh, I decided to read the full article in the newspaper. It was the article about daddy Marian... Jesus Christ... that horrible article... about a satanic secta, as it was written in the newspaper... Marian Schlosser was the founder and the leader of it... there was written also that he did murder his wife Anna, Bozhena"s mother, and her second child at the age of two, when they were trying to leave Sofia. It happened at the 30th of March, 1977... and there was also written that... that Marian Schlosser, together with the other seventeen members of secta, commited the mass ritual suicide, - at 10th of May, 1983... oh God...
  Tonight I was only listening to someone"s voice, shivering of fear... this voice was reading a prayer. A prayer to Jesus Christ and to all the gods of the world... and after every phrase this voice was madly repeating, like in the deepest delirium:
  - I"m so scared that she will kill me, like her father killed his wife and his son when they were trying to leave away and to save themselves! I"m so scared that she will kill me like her father killed his wife and his son when they were trying to leave away and to save themselves!...
  The voice was rising to the hysterical scream and then got broken and drowned in the silence... I began to understand that it was Elisabeth"s voice... then the silence faded away, and I saw the room again. The bedroom in the house I"m hiding now... just like Bozhena was somewhen doing too... I saw her. She was looking at her beloved friend, who had already kept the secret thoughts about the treason in her mind... and Elisabeth... she was standing next to the huge mirror, she was dressed in the white wedding dress and admiring of her own reflection, but... behind this admiring it was anyway clearly seen, how much scared she really was... she was panically scared of her own thoughts, and even of Bozhena"s existence... oh God! And I think that Bozhena could see it too!...
  - Do you like my dress, darling? - almost lovely asked Elisabeth.
  - Dress up in white.
  - What?!...
  - Dress up in white... daddy Marian told me that the scream of the white owl sounds exactly like the words "Dress up in white" in the old norwegian language... that"s why people are so scared of the white owl... they think that it"s the sign of the Death...
  - Oh... ex-xcuse me...
  And she did quickly leave away... after that I woke up".
  29th of July, Sunday:
  "I went to the cemetery. I found there Bozhena"s grave. Lost and forgotten by everyone among living or dead. Nobody ever came here to think of her - I know, because of the fear. Just like to the grave of daddy Marian she was buried next to. I put the rose down on it. And I said I loved her. Then I left back home. I made an injection of morphine. I"ve done the exhaustingly hard work... so now I"m about to fall asleep and just to see Bozhena again".
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