Prologue.

Something weighed on his head and knees like lead bricks… Oh yes, it was guilt. Wash everything, hide it, clean it up, pretend everything is fine. Damn, the blood stained the… Blood? Where is the body? What body? How do you KNOW there IS a body? Is cleaning the right thing? No. Still feeling he should not turn around, he went to the bathroom. Soap, water, clean hands, towel. He took the phone. A voice answered.

“I am sorry to disturb you. Yes”. He said the address. “I think someone… is gone”.

Someone’s dear eyes have stopped loving the beautiful world. Dear heart, beating for other hearts, has ceased to beat. Dear lungs will no longer provide air for any truth. Everyone must have been in despair. If he were them, he would also try to find out about the circumstances of her departure from everyone. He cried that he could not support them. He must have at least been able to comfort them. His beloved has always comforted the crying, and there was no one kinder than her. It must be right to follow in her footsteps. It was more difficult than it seemed. He could barely keep the smile he often saw on her face when they entered. The judges. Prepared in advance to have their own opinion. And there must have been a lot to judge. He did not want to be judged. You with your own opinion! How poorly can you understand the heart of man, the properties of the deep truths. Compared to them, seeming like a child, he felt closer to the truth (as if it was on the side of the non-seers) and also greater. He meticulously dressed himself (without reproach, as better) with politeness. He became a perfect lie. Avoiding the “judgable” answers gave a sense of familiarity and came with learned ease, although he did not know what topics to avoid – he did not remember.

(He did not avoid the question of stopping the beating of a loved one’s heart. He had the impression that he had done it and that, in admitting it, he was not lying.)

“Your name please”, they asked him.

“I am so sorry. I’m not sure, I don’t really know. A hint maybe?”

“Are you kidding me?”.

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I am. Can I ask for a piece of paper and a pen?”

He trusted his hand. After all, he had to sign more than once. He let the hand move above the paper. It left a strange, indistinct trail.

“Maloona?”

“Malkone, your surname”, the man corrected him.

“And the first name?”, he asked politely.

“Dave”.

The name sounded sweet, smelled like a fruit, and was soft to the touch. The second time, he was enveloped in the feeling of losing someone really close to him. Deep down he must have sensed a great sadness. He smiled at them for goodbye as someone escorted him to the horrifying four walls, but as soon as the door got closed – his heavy eyelids drooped and he finally felt the first emotion since picking up the phone. He felt weak because of it all – the role-playing, kindness – yes, it was that feeling. Whoever was to comfort him now didn’t show up… won’t show up. The crowd around him wanted this weakness and loneliness, whenever good he was judged as unnatural by the crowd (he felt it from the men), the crowd wanted to see him a monster. In spite of them, he loved the world and all that was good. He stood firmly against this pressure. His strength came from someone’s belief, someone’s insisting that he was not a monster. Since this very dear person did not want it, he managed to lie down in bed and close his eyes. Despite the hunch: you don’t deserve to ever lie comfortably (he felt like he was lying on needles), close your eyes to sleep (closed eyelids burned like hellfire). How wicked that someone inside must have been to suggest it. “It’s okay to sleep”, he heard a sweet, smelling like a fruit, soft to the touch voice. The words echoed in his head as if hammered into it. “Everyone deserves a good night’s sleep. I like you, you know?”. So he had to fall asleep. Like in a delirium he jumped to his feet in sleep and as if trying to recall that time…

Someone completely different came to the second meeting. He impatiently waited and watched the new guest. The exterior was tinged with masculinity, thought the inside was certainly feminine. Very similar to someone. Not only by look. A similar aura radiated from the outfit, gestures, and a wonderful smile.

“Sally”.

“You remembered your wife’s name?”.

“I am so sorry”.

She sat close and put her hand on his shoulder. She could see he was not feeling well. She pulled him near, her words and voice were beautiful.

“It’s fine. It’s all fine”.

“Are you not afraid of me?”.

“…Based on what we have learned about you so far… We will need you help to understand your motives, do you understand? It’s all for Sally”.

“…I love her”.

“…The night after the first interrogation, you seemed unwell and said: “I told you I would murder you”. Was that a threat?”.

“Never! Of course not. She is wonderful. I know she would never do anything to make me threaten her”.

“Why then?”.

“I’m sorry”.

Someone’s dear ears stopped listening to the beautiful world. Dear fingers will not touch with tenderness. Dear gut will never again advise what is right. I am wicked.

“…Many disturbing videos and photos were found in your room”.

“Please…”.

She did not let him go, no matter how much he refused to learn about such a person. Lies. She would not love someone like that so much. Her great love was proof of his good nature. Why would someone good enough to deserve her love have such pictures at home?! He would have to have them out of pure perversion and fetish, and she would not love someone like that! Was she unaware? (Impossible, she would not love a liar). Could she had known and continued to love him? (Impossible, she was intelligent ). She could have been a judge. (No, the judges were disgusting, she was not like that). These pictures were never in his house, he never saw them. He won’t listen. For her and to protect her memory, he will stop hearing. Since that day, he saw nothing, heard nothing.

He didn’t hear: “Sally made only one mistake. She loved the wrong man”, when the whole world turned against him and his memory of her.

Only sometimes the wicked person inside made him doubt.