Chapter 84

The blockade is broken, just as the Psychiatrists always expect it to happen in my case. My mind works looking for connections that make sense. I find nothing but human perversity itself. No way to justify what I didn't see for convenience, fear that it would be real.

My trauma hides in the dreams of the last nights. Those who start with a suspense and end with the murder of someone who cares about me. I see that man in my dreams, but his physiognomy is always very fanciful for me. I remember sticking the knife in your chest, the fleeting chance I have to see your face, gradually becoming someone else's. Deprivation of the senses generates paranoia. The basement has always been dark. He always knew how to go unpunished. I'm not the first, and I know I'm not the last, because men in his position will never be considered suspects.

The memories come back with the voices of those I know, those who have always been in my head and others who have never exis