When I saw Michael asleep, I left him and went to take a shower.
Removing the blood from under my fingernails was incredibly difficult, so it took me a long time to clean myself completely. Suddenly, I remembered that there was no need to be careful about being discovered anymore because she was gone.
I went and prepared some food, adding alcohol to each dish and opening some bottles.
I entered the room cautiously, the curtains half-closed. I called his name softly, but before I could finish the word, I saw him thrashing about, his body trembling.
I jumped toward him without thinking. I gripped his shoulders tightly, feeling his bones beneath my fingers.
He was breathing rapidly and painfully, as if his chest were constricting, as if the air itself had turned to needles.
He mumbled unintelligible words, a broken voice coming from deep within him.
I saw his jaw clench violently, so I quickly placed my hand between his teeth, even though I knew the pain it would cause, just to prevent him from biting his tongue like before.
He pressed his teeth against my skin. I felt a sharp sting.
His lips trembled, and his voice caught in his chest before emerging weak and broken: he called her name… just like every time.
His body resists, then collapses, then resists again.
He didn't ask where he was, didn't ask what had happened. Just her name.
And every time I wake him, I feel like I'm not really saving him… just dragging him back to a reality where he suffers in silence, calling out to her, as if she's the only one who can stop this torment.
But she's gone.
He looked at me, pained, calling her name in a tearful voice.
I left him alone for a while to calm down, then he looked at me and asked what had happened. I told him I'd made some food for us to eat.
At the table, we didn't talk much, but I played the torture video for him to watch.
I looked at Michael and asked him what he thought she'd say if she saw us taking revenge like this.
He looked at me and said, "She would have forgiven us, as always."
Yes, she always did.