There. Finally I closed the door. It was not so hard after all. Maybe now I can sleep a little ...
How long had not seen Peter? 10 years? And, more or less ...
I remember well the last time: his knees, hugging my legs, begging me to intercede with Lucila to return with him. But I could not do that: she wanted nothing. No I told him not to hurt him. And, really, I did not want him again.
remember that afternoon as a nebula. Luckily my son was not when the bell rang.
Me surprised when I saw through the peephole.
Time makes us forget the bad things, and opened the door confident and happy to see an old friend.
Suddenly I felt the sticky warmth of my own blood from the first stab wound. And followed the other, with rage and hatred.
As if my body were someone else looked at my arm almost severed with one blow. I felt no pain. But I felt that life was beyond me through that hole.
As he arrived, Peter was bloody, leaving me in a warm puddle red.
not remember much else ... After I learned that a neighbor, a physician, I made a tourniquet and called the ambulance.
almost lost his arm. Physicians, in a desperate attempt, took a nerve in my leg to tie it back into my body. And they succeeded.
"You can not do anything," said the police and the prosecutor, "because there is no eyewitness."
Now I sold the house. It is a desperate attempt I lose track.
But when I walk down the street I can not but fear my shadow. Because this madman is walking calmly through the streets of Temperley ...
