Post by account_disabled on Dec 11, 2023 6:10:41 GMT
The nerves and tendons of his neck were tense to the maximum and Remo stood still, his arms stuck at his sides, the tears started to flow again, his mouth half open and a breath coming out without a sound. «Hhhh…» The head continued to spin. Remo opened his eyes wide, while a chilling thought tore his mind like a razor. He resisted with all his strength and the determination he had left, but it was no use. He tensed the nerves in his face to the maximum in the effort and terror of what was happening, while a searing pain shot from his neck to his chest. Then a crash broke the silence. Remo's mind shut down.
The eyes without light no longer recorded images. Only the webcam continued to watch, while Remo's head made an entire turn around his neck to return with his face no longer facing the screen. He entered the bathroom and looked at the other Remo Phone Number Data who looked back at him from the other side of the mirror. “No, that's not good at all,” he said. The counter-Remo had deep dark circles under his eyes, tired, veiled eyes, a face marked by an internal suffering that was tearing him apart like a pack of hungry dogs. He washed, dressed and went out without even looking at the kitchen where the night before… I remember. The chair moving away from the table. The cutlery drawer falling to the floor.
But there was more, Remo was sure of it. He struggled to remember as he walked to work, down the subway stairs, through the turnstiles, into the train car. He didn't care about the travelers' glances and continued to brood over what had happened. Until the images returned to his mind with the violence of a catastrophe. He hadn't fallen to the ground that night. No. Someone had thrown it there. A force had made him fall off the sofa and Remo hadn't even had the courage to open his eyes. He had only waited, as always. May the end come soon, he had prayed within himself. But that end had not come, there had been no further activity that night and Remo had finally managed to go back to sleep, there, on the floor.
The eyes without light no longer recorded images. Only the webcam continued to watch, while Remo's head made an entire turn around his neck to return with his face no longer facing the screen. He entered the bathroom and looked at the other Remo Phone Number Data who looked back at him from the other side of the mirror. “No, that's not good at all,” he said. The counter-Remo had deep dark circles under his eyes, tired, veiled eyes, a face marked by an internal suffering that was tearing him apart like a pack of hungry dogs. He washed, dressed and went out without even looking at the kitchen where the night before… I remember. The chair moving away from the table. The cutlery drawer falling to the floor.
But there was more, Remo was sure of it. He struggled to remember as he walked to work, down the subway stairs, through the turnstiles, into the train car. He didn't care about the travelers' glances and continued to brood over what had happened. Until the images returned to his mind with the violence of a catastrophe. He hadn't fallen to the ground that night. No. Someone had thrown it there. A force had made him fall off the sofa and Remo hadn't even had the courage to open his eyes. He had only waited, as always. May the end come soon, he had prayed within himself. But that end had not come, there had been no further activity that night and Remo had finally managed to go back to sleep, there, on the floor.