TH I will not die, - the Plenty has answered.
Perhaps, too sharply, too obstinately. But - it is sincere.
He has fallen asleep with thought on death. Damning itself, its and all world.
Chapter 8.
Doors were not. Again the Plenty has examined all - only having woken up, having opened eyes, having come to the senses
and once again having tried to reconcile with inevitable, he has already thought that, probably, the aperture can be above,
somewhere under a ceiling, somewhere, where is invisible... It was visible not absolutely anything whether because the
ceiling was so high that the shade hid walls from a look, whether it is light became dim, and not light even, and darkness.
The despair has risen to a throat when he has understood that apertures any more will not be... The exit is not present.
The exit is always. He will not die here how the tired out wild boar who does not understand that in a minute a ruthless hand
one sharp blow will deprive of his life. To them too have given knifes... That they the, ruthless hand have stopped the
sufferings that they have created Justice the hands... Severely. Grejs the rights. People have not changed. Cruelty has not
disappeared. Cruelty lives, the vein, will live. While there will live people. Here true Justice. And that he should solve it, too
Justice. It is innocent... But to proceed long so cannot. He is doomed... No, him have doomed, it here at anything... Let
Adriana lives, it is worthy, it - one of many... And it will not have not enough forces...
The plenty sat in a corner, having nestled a back on a warm wall, long feet having extended before itself and twisted in
hands a knife. The knife was the idle time, with the black handle, with a direct steel edge. Too simple knife, too simply to
make it... Interestingly, it is sick?
It slowly so that to experience, understand, present, has spent a knife on a palm. Painfully. But a pain - clearing, unless not
so learnt it? A pain - only a pain, and anything else. And if once again? It has spent a knife in the same place, having
introduced threw more deeply, having got joints so that blood a stream has rushed from a wound. The pain became stronger,
but he as if did not notice it. Feelings have become dull, as if someone very careful, kind, has covered them for a while with
a white, fluffy blanket under which so it is cosy...