Character: Angelica Mashkovskaya. Page 5

Sometimes you become a hero by chance. Everyone praises your resilience, masculinity, but they do not even realize that because of the horror that engulfed you, you could not escape ...

You can make tremendous efforts, gnaw, saw and break, but sometimes problems, like Hadfield steel, self-harden. Its hardness becomes equal to the firmness of the efforts made. This is a battle with Nothing, which means that it is impossible to win.

It turns out that standing on the verge of death, it's so easy to say what you think. Because you understand that if not now, then definitely never. Usually we rely on positive and negative sympathies to someone and act accordingly. But more recently, from last night, I've been using my words and actions to show how I'm feeling. Forgetting about all the conventions...

My reality is a continuous tear, mixed with self-deception, and nothing more. And I lived in hopes and the belief that someday everything will be, if not great, then good. But it only gets worse every time! Maybe it's all about me? Perhaps I attract criminal elements to me like a magnet iron? Isn't this the word destiny and everything depends on what kind of magnet you are from birth?

- It's just that the killer instinct suddenly worked ... - she replied, and I could not determine what she really meant in these words.

Again gaining more snow in my palm, I began to rub it against the girl's body.
- WHAT! WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU, PERVERT DAMNED! She squealed, twitching like an insect that had landed in a web.
- Funny. I laughed as I watched her try to get rid of my cold hands. - But I don't know what's wrong with me. I guess I fell in love with you.

I caught myself thinking that without hysterics I wish myself death. When there is no way to escape, to break free, and fear torments like a hungry wolf, you start looking for alternative ways to free yourself. Even if through a violent death, everything is better than dragging out miserable days in a cold and dark dungeon, arriving completely alone and under the yoke of constant terror. I understood that despair spoke in me, but I did not see a successful outcome of this whole story.

We shout to be heard and helped. But when you know that you will not be heard or when you are sure that they will not come to the rescue, you stop shouting. And over time, the cry as such simply atrophies.

Losing control over yourself almost always means that you doom yourself to death.

All the same - this is when emotions reach a high point, and the body, not withstanding such an attack, "hangs" and ceases to feel or desire anything.

I was shivering at the thought of being raped, but what's the point of thinking about your ass when you might be killed? It’s the same as if I, bowing my head over the block, were worried about my hair, and not about the ax, which has practically sunk around my neck. The main thing is to stay alive, even if you have to go through such a terrible situation. It was not a shameful weakness - it was just a choice between bad and very bad.

Until recently, I thought that ignorance is frightening, but knowledge is sometimes no less terrifying...

If you are taken into the turn of the situation - stop being surprised by something and shouting that it simply can not be. It happens, and therefore it can. Otherwise, denying the obvious, you can go crazy.

Uncertainty cannot last forever. It will be clear soon. You just have to wait a little ...