Only the Strongest Survive (29 page)

*

Before
locking her door, he
hugged her gently
and kissed her forehead.

Emely sat on
the edge of her bed and with her head in her hands thought about
everything that had happened over the last few months. She wanted
to concentrate on a single thought, but her mind darted in all
directions and however hard she tried she couldn
’t stop it. The tears were streaming, but she didn’t know
whether they were from sadness or from John’s words that had
reached into her heart. She was angry at herself.
Why didn’t I hit him? I’m such a
fool! Why didn’t I finish him off?

The thought
of overcoming him at some point when he became careless had given
her hope and the will to live, made it possible for her to survive
there. It was always in her mind. Whenever she felt miserable, she
thought of this and felt better.
And what have I got left now? How will I fight my way to
freedom now? He’ll never let me go. Damn it, I should’ve hit
him.

She struck
her right hand against the damp wall so that a dull thud could be
heard, but all it achieved was to make her hand hurt. She screamed
and burst into hysterical tears
, crying
for a long time. Then she closed her eyes and relaxed her body so
that she collapsed onto the bed. It had been a long time since she
had last felt so drained of energy.

Suddenly she became aware that Kitty was next
to her, looking at her sadly. The little dog felt that something
was wrong with her and shared her feelings. On seeing this, Emely
could not help herself smiling. She reached for the puppy and Kitty
was more than glad to jump onto the bed. Emely cuddled her and they
both fell asleep, side by side.

*

Tired,
John returned to his room. He had hoped so much
that after confessing his love to her, she would fall into his arms
and cover his face with kisses. He knew she didn’t love him, but
there was still a glimmer of hope in his heart that his words would
soften her. In his hidden thoughts he had imagined that he would be
able to hold her hands and look into her eyes all night long. He
had imagined carrying her to his bed, making love for hours. But
none of that happened.

He put his
hand on his stomach where the familiar pain had reappeared,
spreading like a wild creeper across his abdomen. His throat was
burning and he couldn’t get his saliva to go down. Never before had
he had these problems.

What
can I do?
he wondered.
I’d take anything if I knew it would make me feel better.
These damn pains, why can’t they leave me alone?

He massaged
his abdomen with circular movements and thought the pain diminished
by a fraction.
This is how
I’ll feel in hell … if it exists. Everyone talks about love, but
it’s nothing but suffering,
he
thought.
I don’t want to love,
I want to be like I was, happy and satisfied, missing
nothing.

Before going
to bed, he let his
T-shirt drop to the
floor.
If only I could take my
pain off like this T-shirt and free myself from the suffering that
leads nowhere. Why can’t she reciprocate my love? Why doesn’t she
want me to love her? I can’t live without her. What can I do? I’m
going crazy.

He turned
over onto his stomach.
It’s
understandable she doesn’t like me if I’m keeping her in that room.
… But I can’t let her go, I can’t live without her. What can I
do?

He shook his
head, wanting to chase away these thoughts, wanting to be overcome
by a wave of calmness that would numb the feelings in his body. At
that moment he remembered.
A
strong drink.

He pushed off the cover and jumped out of
bed. Wearing only his underwear, he went downstairs, relieved that
he had finally remembered something that would help him get through
the night.

He put a
bottle of vodka and a basin of ice next to the divan on which he
lay. He lit a cigarette, which spread a pleasant warmth around his
lungs, making him feel much better and reducing his stomachache.
But as soon as the old thoughts came back, the alcohol made his
feelings of love even more intense and the sense of loneliness even
more acute. If he imagined being in bed with her, kissing her silky
skin, he felt a pleasant energy, but only a moment later as he
became aware of the cruel reality, his stomach burned again as if a
knife had been shoved into it. He took a few more sips hoping that
the pain would finally disappear. And it did; the alcohol did its
job. The feelings aroused by thinking about Emely increased and he
found it difficult to separate his dreams from reality.

After a third
glass
of vodka, everything seemed much
better and he decided to go to bed. Swaying, he set off for the
stairs. As he passed the door leading to the basement, he stopped
again and thought,
What if my
dreams could come true after all?

He knew she
would reject him, so he walked on, but hesitat
ed again after only a few steps. He turned back toward the
door.
No, I
mustn’t.

He stood there, thinking. A part of him was
forcing him to go upstairs and another part was telling him to go
to her. Which of these voices should he obey?

What if she’s feeling lonely and this is just the right
moment?
He so wanted to turn away, but
instead stood in front of the door, staring at the
handle.

Finally, he
set off toward the bathroom, determined to go to bed. But the pain
in his stomach reappeared with such ferocity that he had to
stop.
I’ll just give her a
hug. A quick one. Yes, that’s what I’ll do, just a quick
hug,
he thought, putting the key into the
lock.

The light
from the hall penetrated Emely’s room, revealing her lying on her
left side, submersed in dreams. Quickly he pushed the door
closed so that the light would not wake her.
Kitty watched him, wagging her tail. He stroked her head gently and
she lay on her back in the hope that he would tickle her tummy.
Because of the darkness he could barely see the outline of the
objects in the room. Like a cat, he crawled under the cover,
pressing himself gently to Emely. To his surprise, she moved
herself closer to him so that he could feel her soft skin with his
body. He lay there perfectly still, afraid to move, wishing these
moments would last forever.

He put his nose closer to her neck in order
to smell her perfume. A shiver ran down his body. He had wanted her
to be close so much and there she was, lying next to him so that he
was able to feel the whole of her. He adjusted the rhythm of his
breathing to hers, closed his eyes and his thoughts floated far
away. It felt so good, he was with her and yet transported
somewhere far away, where he would be able to rest and feel
nothing.

*

“John!”

Like
cold water being poured over him, he was in
shock for a few moments before becoming aware of where he was. He
must have slept there for an hour or so and the effects of the
alcohol were wearing off. He was feeling much less brave than
earlier. Knowing that he had made a big mistake, he began
trembling.

Emely was also in shock and could barely
breathe. She wanted to get out of his embrace, but he was holding
her so tightly that she could do nothing but wriggle.

“
I won’t hurt
you,” he said stubbornly. “I needed so much to be close to
you.”

“But John, you promised me.”

“Yes, I know, but …”

I
must act sternly but calmly and he’ll leave,
Emely thought. “John, I know it’s not easy being alone. But
that’s no excuse for climbing into my bed in the middle of the
night.” Her voice was shrill and slightly hysterical. She was
motionless now and felt as if she had found a huge poisonous spider
in her bed. If she moved, it would attack her and she would die in
agony. But if she remained perfectly still, there was a chance it
would leave.

“
I know. But
whenever I’m alone I get this stomachache. I can’t sleep. I don’t
know how to describe the pains that begin to tear at my insides
only ten minutes after you’re no longer with me.
”

“
I know what
you’re trying to tell me
.” She cared very
little about his pains.
What
about me? Who was there with me when I screamed and fainted in that
grave? What was that if not pain? How dare he come here like a
whimpering puppy in the middle of the night as soon as he gets a
pain?
She felt she was losing
patience.

“I promise I won’t do anything you wouldn’t
want me to. I wouldn’t hurt you again for anything in the world. I
love you and all I want is to have you in my arms for a while.”

She knew he
was telling the truth.
What
can I do?
She wanted to say something but
couldn’t find the right words that would persuade him to leave.
Then she thought of something.

She sighed
audibly
, like an angry teacher that had
come up with a way of fooling a naughty child. “OK then. But ten
minutes, no more,” she said strictly.

He kissed her neck in gratitude and held her
even tighter.

And so they
lay there, Emely, rigid, and John happy and relaxed behind her.
They were like an old couple, where he is still in love with her
but she can barely wait for him to go to sleep so she can push him
away.

The minutes
dragged on. In the hope of distracting herself, Emely counted the
seconds in order to be able to assess when she could tell him to
go.
If I said ten minutes, it
really will be ten minutes, not a second longer. I mustn’t be
lenient.
After she counted to sixty
twice, she felt something stir behind her. His swollen manhood was
pressing against her buttocks.
Oh no,
she thought.

“
Sorry
, Emely, I can’t help
myself. I promise I won’t do anything you don’t want me to. I’ll
soon be gone.”

She was
slightly relieved, but the hairs on her arm were still standing up.
She was
unsure whether it was because of
fear or something else. By breathing rhythmically she tried to calm
the storms raging inside her. There were hurricanes, typhoons, and
cyclones over which she had no control. She continued counting; it
was the only sensible thing she could do. She counted and
waited.
Please, let him
leave.

Eight times
she counted to sixty, so there were two minutes left.
As promised, he was motionless the whole time,
his arms around her. In fact, he was too still, not moving
once.
What if …?

She heard a
gentle snore that answered her question.
Would you believe it?

She was
relieved, knowing that he wouldn
’t hurt
her, but at the same time this was not the solution she
wanted.
How will I get rid of
him now?

“John,” she said in an undecided tone of
voice. “John, wake up.”

She shook in
the hope that he’d wake up, but instead his grip tightened and he
mumbled with pleasure.

I can’t believe this, he must be
pretending.

She tried to
pull apart the hands clasped around her, but they were so big and
heavy that she couldn’t get a good enough hold. He slept like a log
through it all.
Unbelievable.

For a while
she lay there helplessly,
mulling over
what she could do.
I’ll try
again.

This time she
grabbed one of his hands with both
of
hers and tried to move it. She succeeded partly, but only a moment
later the hands were clasped together again. It seemed as if his
hands and arms were not connected to the rest of his body, but wide
awake and on guard.

“
John, wake
up!” she
said again, this time in a
deeper voice.

Nothing.
He really
must have been tired.

N
ot giving up yet, she shook
herself like a cat a few more times, convinced this would wake
him.
Damn it, how can this
be?

In the end
she had to give in. Lying on her side, she thought about him and
how he was both a vulgar ruffian, capable of
murder
, and as sensitive as a small
child. She was amazed that a person could possess such conflicting
characteristics.
He was never
given love, that’s why he’s so rough, but inside he probably isn’t
that bad at all.
She couldn’t decide what
to think about him. Sometimes, when she was in a bad mood and he
appeared, she hated him from the bottom of her heart. But at the
same he was so kind to her and she knew he would do anything for
her—except release her, of course. Often she thought that he was in
fact his brother’s victim, while Ronald belonged in a mental
hospital.

There had been moments when she looked in
John’s eyes and maybe … maybe she did not hate him all that much.
And then all those things he told her that surprised and shocked
her. No one had ever said so many loving things to her at the same
time: “I love you … I needed you to be close …” were proclamations
that still reverberated around her head.