She awoke to a sharp pain. Again and again. It was pitch-black and the middle of the night.
She uttered a cry of anguish: “What the fuck are you doing?” screamed Madelaine, trying to protect herself.
She could make out the shape of someone, breathing heavily from exertion. She didn’t know who it was. A terrifying thought penetrated her mind: “Those kaffirs have finally done me in!”
She felt something heavy hitting her on the head and she tried to protect herself.
“Help, help... James... ” He was sound asleep in the next room. Drunk, too. Madelaine struggled in vain to the lounge couch and then passed out.
Later she came to and struggled to sit up, but fell off the couch.
While Madelaine lay badly injured and dying, she thought: “I was going to run away from that husband and send a letter to reveal Jako, which would break him. Now, it’s all gone. I never achieved what I set out to do. Where was my husband when I desperately needed him?”
Before she succumbed to her injuries, she came around one last time and, after catching a glimpse of that kaffir in her house, she thought, in her fading state: What was his name? It had something to do with the holidays. Yes, that’s it, Christmas. She wrote his name in blood: “XMAS”.
Then she slipped away. Dead.