Vienna is strangely different today. The weather is good, something rare in recent days, and I have the impression that people on the streets are happier, more alive, more spontaneous. Or maybe the city is just reflecting my state of mind: I feel much lighter, as if in a matter of hours, a huge weight that had been accumulating for more than a decade on my shoulders had been lifted from me.

What happened this morning at my house doesn't leave my mind: her look, always so cold or full of hate, changed. It seems that she finally saw me from another angle, a more reasonable angle, which made me a little more human and less bestial in her eyes, maybe, I don't know...

Only God or the devil knows how much it cost to walk away from her after I touched her. And for the first time since I've had her as my guest, I felt that she didn't want me to leave. It was something surreal, which gave me more strength to continue with this sick game...

In fact, the city is more beautiful today. As I live trapped in my world of shadows, I had forgotten how enchanting Vienna is.

It's almost late afternoon and, since I've already taken care of all the things I had to do today, I head to my accountant's office, because I know that Hans is waiting for me there with the car. On the way, I pass a flower shop and am tempted to go in and buy her something. I feel an untiring desire to please her, to make her happy, and I think that a nice bouquet of flowers would be quite appropriate. I go into the flower shop and carefully choose a delicate bouquet of wildflowers. It's a simple and delicate bouquet, which suits her a lot. I leave the store with the small bouquet in my hands, visibly anxious to return home.

I cross the street and can already see my Mercedes parked in front of my accountant's office. Except that I really didn't count on what I just saw and that, instinctively, almost makes me turn around. I feel the blood drain from my face when I see, in the distance, two figures next to my driver, beside the car. And the worst thing is that I can't dodge them because I shouldn't arouse suspicion. Samuel and Anna look like they've come straight from hell to ruin a day that started out so well.

- God, they don't give up looking for me? - I think, as I approach slowly, alternating a genuine expression of surprise with a feigned expression of joy.

I can't go back anymore. I approach cautiously, afraid of what might happen. Their faces are clearer now, and I see that the maestro's expression, like mine, is not the best.

It is true that his countenance has changed a lot since I took Helen from his arms, but now what I see is something much worse. His expression, which previously showed a confident, pathetically happy and fulfilled man, changed to a man with a thinner face, deep dark circles under his eyes and painfully unhealthy appearance. He aged a lot in a short time. Anna, on the other hand, is still beautiful like her sister, but she seems a little irritated, with an air of impatience. As soon as she saw me, she approached and, with amazing and somewhat forced complicity, took my hand and squeezed it as if we were very close. I wanted to withdraw my hand as Helen was not present and there was no need to fawn over her sister. And I'm not comfortable with that kind of intimacy either, but I held back. After all, I play the role of an admirer of Samuel's art, and I've also earned my place as a friend of the family, someone they can trust. At least that's what I want it to look like.

My mask has not fallen for them, so the theatre must go on.

- Anton, you won't believe the latest news. Anna says.

- I hope they're good. - I try to hide my displeasure.

- Unfortunately, they are not. - She continues. - Looks like they've found a body of a woman in Innsbruck that fits my sister's profile perfectly.

- Innsbruck? But Innsbruck is over four hours from Vienna by train! - I say, genuinely incredulous at the news.

- I also find this story very absurd, but Samuel is convinced that this time this clue is true. The description given to us is very close to Helen, except for the clothes she was wearing. The girl found was not wearing hospital clothes, which were what Helen was wearing the last time she was seen.

I look at Helen's husband and I almost feel sorry for the man. That's because I, perhaps even more than him, know how desperate it is to feel unable to be with the person you love. I lived eleven years with that feeling stuck in my chest like a dagger. So, I can even understand how devastated it is because I really know how it is. The difference between the two of us is that when I was away from her, somehow, I knew she was still alive. I didn't give Samuel the same luck as I did because he enjoyed her company too long. Now it's my turn!

- Samuel, why do you think it could be her? If the clothes are not the same? – I address Samuel, because I think Anna is very excited.

- Because I think Helen ran away and got rid of the clothes, she wore in the hospital...

- How would she do that, huh?! She didn't have any money, Sam. Honestly, how can you think she got away? And not that they took her against her will? - Anna says, indignant.

Samuel looks at Anna with a bored expression, apparently tired of having to give her the same answer over and over again.

- Because I'm tired of red herrings, Anna. I'm tired of hearing you talk about that lunatic who said Helen was taken by force... (waves his hand so that Anna won't interrupt him). - No, please let me finish... Anna, Anton... I know she was really upset in that hospital. My mother and I witnessed horrible scenes, with broken furniture and many insults in Polish, directed at me, for keeping her in forced captivity in a psychiatric institution far from our home. So, my dear, what I mean is that I'm done trying to figure out what could have happened. And I've also been thinking a lot about the possibility of leaving by choice. Sometimes, on the worst days, I actually come to believe she meant it that way... (takes another long breath). I know people who never recovered from what they experienced in the war and who went so far as to end their own lives... I have an uncle who did that... What more do you want, Anna? Drive me crazy with your ideas?! I'm so tired, so fed up with this land... (he starts talking in a choked voice). I'm desperate... And I'm trying to come to terms with the fact that Helen is gone forever. I try every day not to blame myself for bringing her back to Europe, but I think it was too much for her... Helen never recovered from Plaszow, never!

- How dare you say that? - Anna's tone of voice indicates that she is deeply irritated with her brother-in-law's defeated posture.

- Because Helen is not you! Can't you understand this?

Anna was incredulous. And then she returned to the charge:

- What is this love that doubts the actions of the woman who lived with you for more than ten years? Samuel, you knew her so well... How can you say such horrible things about her? Helen loves life! It's not this lunatic you're trying to paint... She was always more cantered than me... She had no reason to end her own life!

- Maybe we thought we knew her well. It pains me a lot to say this to you, because I know how united you were. But I repeat: you are not Helen, Anna. You had no way of predicting what was going on with her. We don't know why, but I have virtually no doubt that the body in Innsbruck is hers.

Then he starts talking, looking right at me.

- She changed when she came here, Anton. I didn't recognize her anymore. Within days, I no longer knew who the woman I had spent the last eleven years was. It was as if she had been suddenly seized with a brutal fever that attacked her nerves in such a way that she was unrecognizable... She was drugged day and night in that hospital so that the outbreaks could be contained... She spoke only Polish with us. It was as if something that had been dammed up all these years burst out at once as soon as she set foot in Austria. It was all so surprising that I even thought that, in fact, I didn't really know her.

I didn't even have time to express anything after the maestro's outburst, as Anna again intruded on the conversation.

- You're wrong, Samuel. You're tired. Did you give up! I'm sure he's dying to get back to his bourgeois life as an international conductor... You, Sam... You're a selfish son of a bitch who all these years only thought of himself and relegated the role of exemplary Jewish wife to my sister. Well, you know, she hated that life... Yes, my dear, she hated playing the role of the good wife... The perfect woman, eternally grateful to the American soldier who took us away from this disgusting land that is Europe! I hate everything this place represents, because here I've only seen pain and disgrace! And Helen saw what I did... Anna takes a deep breath. - You don't know anything about anti-Semitism my dear, even being a Jew, you will never ever know. So don't talk about my sister like that because I won't allow it. I do not give up! I will not give up...

- You must be crazy! - Samuel tells her, looking directly at me, as if he was looking for my approval for the comment he just made.

- Crazy in the same way you think Helen is? - Anna counters.

Astonished at the direction that conversation between them had taken, I remained silent, as there was no role left for me, other than that of a spectator at a theatre that clearly showed that there was something wrong with the Hirsch-Horowitz family dynamic. A resentful silence fell over us, like a heavy blanket that no one could seem to shake off.

After a long exchange of glances between the two, Samuel once again ignores his sister-in-law and finally turns to me. Wearing the mask of composure again, the maestro speaks:

- Sorry, Anton, we came here to say goodbye. I'm going to Innsbruck tomorrow to do body recognition. Anna and I thought it best to let you know, as we greatly appreciate all the efforts and kindness you have made to try to help us through this nightmare. Thank you for everything, but I think unfortunately, it's over for me.

Anna again butts in.

- And I came here for you to help me dissuade him... It can't be her; it won't be... We need to continue, we must follow a parallel line of investigation, one that gives credence to that hospital patient who swears that Helen was taken by force from there! You believe me, don't you, Anton? After everything we talked about that day at your house, I'm sure you'll give me credit, won't you?!

So, I prepare to enter the scene:

- I'm sorry to disappoint you, my dear, but I think Samuel may unfortunately be right. Perhaps this story did not end well. And maybe you will never know the reasons, but the fact is that you need to prepare your spirit for what comes next. They'll only know if it's her if they go there. I don't think it's advisable for you to go, Anna, under the circumstances. But if you feel the need to see it with your own eyes, go... remove that doubt from your heart. Go to Innsbruck with Samuel.

- I... I can't believe this! – With some difficulty, as she is very tense, Anna takes a cigarette from her bag, but, due to her emotional state, she drops it on the sidewalk. Instinctively, we both reached down at the same time to pick it up. It was then that she finally noticed the discreet bunch of flowers in my hands.

- Oh, I'm sorry! Are we interrupting something?

I try to hide it, but there is no way to hide the bouquet.

- No, why?

- Those flowers... Were you on your way to a date?

- What? Ah yes, yes. I just left the flower shop. I do have a date. – I preferred to remain silent to avoid giving details that I may need to remember later. I played the discreet gentleman, who preserves his intimacy and that of his amorous conquests.

- Well, Anna, that's our cue to let Mr. Prauchner in peace and get on with our lives. Anton, thanks again for everything!

The maestro extends his hand and, for the first time, offers me a firm and assured handshake, as if the circumstances following this conversation have finally turned him into a real man. Helen would perhaps be proud of him for displaying such firmness, while Anna seems neurotic, who envied her sister's life. At least so it seemed to me.

- If I can do anything else, please don't hesitate to contact me. – I say this to make it clear that I am a support, someone above suspicion.

- Of course, of course, we may still need it. I appreciate it.

- I don't believe that... So, no one is willing to help me? Not even you, Anton? Men are all the same. They want to be practical. Well, I'll tell you one thing: the practicality with which you're taking this will eat away at you inside, Samuel... And I'm not going to help you. I'm going with you to Innsbruck just to make sure you're wrong. I'm going to find my sister because I owe it to her. She never gave up on me. And I will never give up on her. Never! Did you hear right?! I'm leaving... Sam, let's call a cab.

Again, I'm ready to offer a ride.

- Do you want me to take you to the hotel?

- No need, Anton. We've abused your generosity enough... even your ears. Thank you... Anna, let's go to the corner. There's a taxi rank there...

Anna takes one last drag on her cigarette, throws it to the ground, and stubs it out with the toe of her high-heeled shoe.

- I will... (Slowly lets out smoke from his cigarette) See you soon, Herr Prauchner. I hope to see you again, as I intend to return to Vienna soon. I must concentrate my searches here.

- See you soon, Fräulein Hirsch. I hope you have a good trip, as far as possible. I would like you to keep me informed.

- Oh, make sure of that. For me, the search is not over yet.

And with those words, Anna turns her back on me, heading towards the taxi rank. She doesn't wait for the maestro, who looks at me with a desolate but resigned expression and follows her.

- Annoying little girl! - I think, as I watch them walk away.

Relieved, I get into my car and talk to Hans.

- Innsbruck, Hans?!

I see my driver's eyes through the rear-view mirror.

- You didn't ask me to organize red herrings?

- Yes, but Innsbruck is far away and...

- It's perfect to keep them at bay a little longer, Herr Prauchner.

The car passes the two, who, oblivious to me, are walking side by side towards the taxi. I look at Anna, so much like Helen in body but so different in spirit. She's the one I should worry about the most.

- Hans...

- Yes, Herr Prauchner?

- Will Anna go after the lunatic at the hospital who claims she saw you taking Helen out?

- Maybe she will, sir. But do not worry. The nurse, who is one of us, is careful that the madwoman moderates her language.

- Can we trust this nurse?

- Sir. She owes me a favour. She was a nurse in Bergen-Belsen and...

- Okay, okay... - I interrupt him, as I try to avoid my past being present in my new life. Hans seems to understand and immediately shuts up.

We drove in silence the rest of the way. I am calm for having surrounded myself with people of absolute confidence. Hans has done his job very well, as have Frau Künzel and her daughter. So far it has been worth it to keep them close to me.

I go into the house and find Frau Künzel in the kitchen, busy with dinner.

- How is she? – I asks.

-She didn't leave her room today.

- But I authorized you to let her walk around the house today and...

- She didn't want to leave… - Frau Künzel interrupts me. I continue to talk.

- Did she eat?

-Yes, she had all her meals in her room.

- I'll talk to her.

I climb the stairs and head to her room. When I'm near the door, I hear music, clearly coming from the bedroom. Not strange, as I left a record player with a wide variety of records at her disposal. I'm happy, because finally she decided to enjoy some things that can provide some kind of distraction. The door is not locked, as I ordered Frau Künzel that today Helen could have free access to the house. I open it cautiously, afraid to startle her.

I don't see her as soon as I walk in, so I close the door slowly and scan the room with my eyes, looking for her, but I can't find her anywhere. Then I hear her voice coming from the bathroom. She seems to be humming a snippet from the opera that's playing on the record player. I approach, slowly, because I don't want to startle her. Since the music is a little loud, she remains oblivious to my presence. The bathroom door is just ajar and I, knowing I shouldn't go further, even so I dare and open it a crack, slowly. Helen is in the bathtub, showering with her back to me, and she doesn't realize that I can see her. Her hair is tied back in a bun, and the sight of a few loose, wet strands falling down her bare back is too disturbing for me. Dazed, I accidentally take a step forward and brush the toe of my shoe against the door, which causes it to slam open with a loud thump.

At the noise, Helen is startled and turns her face back. Seeing me, she pulls a towel for herself and speaks to me in a frightened tone.

- Herr Kommandant...

Really embarrassed, I close the door, and, outside the bathroom, I try to cover it up by starting a conversation.

- I brought you flowers! - I'm sorry... Helen, I didn't think that... I'm sorry, please!

I hear her voice, a little hurried but without the irritated or nervous tone it has always had since our mutual torment began.

- It would be more polite if you had knocked on the door.

- I... It was accidental, I'm sorry.

I go to the record player and turn the sound down a bit. The bathroom door opens, and she emerges, stunning, wrapped in a bathrobe, her hair still tied back in a bun. She walks over, and sits on the bed, facing me.

- I wanted to listen to some music... - She avoids looking directly into my eyes.

- That's ok. You can do it.

- Thanks!

- There's nothing to be thankful for... - Still embarrassed, I continue. - Do you want me to turn up the volume again?

She nods and I turn up the sound on the victrola a little and the unmistakable voice of Maria Callas fills the spaces of the room.

...L'oiseau que tu croyais surprendre

Battit de l'aile et s'envola;

L'amour est loin, tu peux l'attendre...

Helen leans against the headboard of the bed and takes off her slippers.

- Do you have a fever? – I ask, still worried about his health.

- No. I'm ok.

- You look tired...

She changes the subject.

- Where are the flowers?

- Flowers?

- You said you brought me flowers. Where are?

I try to hide how disturbed I still am, but I can't. It takes me a while to walk around the room, looking for the bouquet. I find him on the floor and, embarrassed, I hand the small bouquet in his hands. She thanks. As soon as she smells the flowers, they set them aside on the nightstand and our conversation continues.

- I'm going to need a small vase. This one (points to a large vase on a small table next to the armchair) is very large. Does not fit. - She says, to which I nod my head. And she continues.

- I got a little busy today. I heard music... – She gives a kind of complacent smile – I even danced a little, you know. - And then she looks at me in a spontaneous, slightly innocent way, almost as if I were her father and she was telling me a little prank.

- You danced? – I cannot hide my enthusiasm and my surprise.

- A little... I take modern dance classes in New York. I thought it would be good to do some dancing to exercise my leg. And then she lifts her legs up on the bed and indicates her right ankle.

- I wish I'd seen that. – I say spontaneously.

She rotates her right heel, as if she's making sure her leg feels better.

- Oh, you wouldn't like it. I don't dance well; I just try hard. It's not like classical ballet, you would find it boring... I haven't danced in a long-time and...

- Misses? – I interrupt her, wanting to know a little more about her life.

- Not much... It wasn't something I took great pleasure in doing. - She answers.

- Well, I thought that was a good sign.

- What?

- You dance...

- Why?

- Because it means you're not so sad anymore. – As she didn't seem to understand, I continued. – Nobody dances when they are sad.

I thought she was going to respond to my little tease about being a "guest" in my house, but she didn't say anything. I quickly change the subject.

- Why, Carmen?

She then closes her eyes, takes a deep breath and reclines her body back, stretching her legs, as if she is trying to find the best answer. Unlike most times, now Helen looks straight into my eyes.

- Because she's free.

Struck by his direct and accurate answer, I try to respond accordingly.

- It has a tragic ending. - To which she answers me, also immediately.

- Not by her choice.

We were both looking at each other, not knowing how to continue that meaningless conversation.

...L'amour, l'amour, l'amour, l'amour...

Helen covers part of her right thigh with her robe, which insisted on being uncovered, and resumes the conversation, her voice a little lower.

- Herr Kommandant...

- Don't call me like that.

Ignoring my comment, she gives me a wistful look.

- I'm getting out of here... Someday?

- Helen, I released your access to the whole house. Did Frau Künzel not let her out?

- Oh... You know what I mean...

Annoyed by what could be the beginning of an argument, I try to keep the cordial tone in my voice, so that she doesn't get scared.

- Helen, we've already talked about this. If you stay with me, you can lead a normal life, go out, go for a walk... I guaranteed you that, remember? We can resume my travel routine and you will go with me. We can go around the world if you want. We'll do whatever you want, I promise.

- What if I don't want any of this? And if I just want to go back to my house, to my people...

Hearing her repeat the same old story irritated me, so I decide to end the conversation there, before we start another argument.

- Well, you'll always have that room.

I say that and get up, heading towards the door. Helen sees me leaving, gets up and, very quickly, steps in front of me and goes to the door, blocking my exit.

- Please, don't… Don't go! I've been isolated all day up here. That old witch only talks to me the bare minimum... I haven't seen her daughter all day. By the way, I didn't see anyone. Please stay. I wanted... I want to talk some more.

The softness in her voice and in her eyes make my irritation disappear as if by magic. However, the sudden movement she made as she ran past me caused the heavy bathrobe to sag slightly to the side, exposing a portion of her cleavage. Barefoot, I realize how small, slender and delicate her figure is. Seeing her like this, serene, despite the clear possibility of a new confrontation with me moves me. As I look at this fragile and beautiful creature, I feel ashamed of myself for having tried so many times to destroy her.

- If we're going to talk, I'd rather it be without music. - I tell her, who, agreeing with me, promptly gets out of my way and goes quickly to the stereo, turning it off.

- Ready. Without music!

After that gesture, she turns around, to face me again. Then the right sleeve of her robe finally gives way to an even wider view of her cleavage and part of her shoulder. See her like this, so carefree with my presence, so utterly without the modesty of every other time, natural in its essence, so...feminine, it unsettles me to the point of turning my eyes away from that vision, for fear I will no longer be able to keep the promise I made. And that I've been trying hard to try to fulfil.

She seems to notice.

- Is everything all right, Herr Kommandant?

- Damn it, Helen, don't call me that! - I speak, in a harsher tone than I would intend.

She gets scared, takes a step back and then her robe betrays her once and for all and her right shoulder is finally revealed in all its splendour. Knowing that only this robe is what separates me from her nudity makes me weak again. I've held back on so many occasions with her that I feel the fire that's been burning in me for so long pushing me forward. I stride towards her. She, who over ten years ago ended all peace of mind, certainty, conviction, prejudice, and racial hatred that I had and that shaped who I am.

Totally oblivious to my promise, I feel like I just want to end eleven years of this desire that turned me from a soldier of the Reich into a man desperate and condemned to love what I always repudiated.

Backed against the wall, Helen looks at me with the certainty of those who know a promise will be duly broken. But even knowing that, she doesn't react. Just like she did at the villa, she just waits for my next move. I can see the fear in her eyes, but I don't care. Screw all that chivalry, screw my promise. I need her, I want her so, so much that I'm determined to end this tension once and for all...

But as I approach, all I can do is jerk up her robe sleeve.

- Cover up. - I say that and I turn my back on her, dying to get out of that room, before I finally break the promise and lose the little trust, she has in me.

But, once again, I am surprised by her voice, now firm and decisive.

- No.

Intrigued, I turn around and see her standing dangerously close to me.

- If that's what you want, Amon, that's what you'll get.

In disbelief, I watch her open her robe slowly and let it slide, revealing, bluntly, all the beauty that I had already imagined so much and glimpsed so little, in such brief moments. Now there's nothing more she can do to hide from me. And then, fully intent on punishing me, Helen lets go of her hair, which cascades over her shoulders. Seeing her like this, in her delicate nudity, apparently also stripped of the fear and hatred she feels for me paralyzes me completely.

She approaches and, without any shame, looks intensely into my eyes and stops right in front of me. Then she takes one of my hands and brings it to her face. We're so close I can smell the freshly showered. Led by her, I feel the soft outline of her face take shape in the palm of my hand. This time it's me who starts to shake...

- You have a cold hand. - She says, as I see her skin shiver under my touch.

- Helen, I...

- Shhhh! She whispers, standing on tiptoe to try to reach my ear. She presses her mouth to my earlobe and speaks.

- Don't say anything...

Still not understanding which paths all this would lead us to, I let her, astonished, lead that madness. After all, so far, I have fulfilled my promise. At least I tried to comply.

Helen slowly leads my hand so that I can caress her face. The way she does it reminds me of what happened this morning and I feel my breath quicken. She, unlike earlier today, seems very sure of what she's doing, like it's the right thing to do. I feel my fingers slide into her skin now of their own volition, which gives me a certain relief to have some kind of control over my actions again.

She lets go of my hand, in the expectation that I can continue what she started, without her having to determine what can and cannot be done. Apparently, there are no limits anymore.

Troubled, I close my eyes, as I know exactly where to go. Years and years of imagining her skin under my fingers... Years and years of touching other women in the hope of finding her mouth, her breasts, her hair, even if only for a few moments. Despite knowing all the geography of that body only through memories of the villa, nothing had prepared me for the reality of this moment. Suddenly, it was as if in all the world, there were only the two of us.

She and I.

I feel my fingers touch her lips and I wait for the repetition of her gesture from the morning. This time I don't interrupt the caress; I run a finger slowly over her bottom lip and, as my breathing quickens, I run my fingers over her mouth more hungrily. Helen opens her lips, waiting for mine, and I finally kiss her. A totally new kiss and more than expected, and this time it wasn't stolen, but given to me as a gift. And she reciprocates with the intensity and security of those who know they are loved. It wasn't a chaste kiss, quite the contrary. As Neruda1 would say, "how many ways to reach a kiss".

I hugged her like a shipwrecked person clings to a buoy. With my hands, I quickly traced the contours of that long imagined and desired body. Every bump, every indentation, every sensation I knew by heart.

I don't even know how, but suddenly I found myself on my knees in front of her, my mouth desperately kissing her breasts, her belly, her sex, her thighs. And then I, still fully dressed, stand before her in awe. I pick her up and walk towards the bed. Lying down, I continue to kiss her incessantly, here and there, until I hear her voice. I hear her talking, but it's like her voice is coming from somewhere else, I'm so busy with my own desire. I don't understand a word she says.

Realizing I wasn't paying attention to what she said, she speaks a little louder, which brings me back to reality. Returning all my caresses, I hear only part of what she was trying to tell me.

- ... go away tomorrow?

Hearing her say that was like throwing a bucket of cold water in my face. With my face still buried in her neck, I reply.

- What?

- You'll have what you want. Today I'm yours. Entirely yours. But let me go tomorrow...

Incredulous and quite disappointed, I pull away from her kisses and still breathing heavily, I speak.

- Helen, are you bargaining with me?

Realizing that control has slipped out of her hands, she stops kissing me and shuts up, in a feeble attempt not to irritate me, which, obviously, is no longer possible, as I feel my blood start to boil.

- I… I...

- Helen, are you offering sex to get out of here? Is that so?

- Yes... I... No, I... - And then, she loses control too. – But isn't that what you want? Isn't this what you always wanted? I offer my body to you! Here! Now! Who knows, maybe this sick trait of yours will disappear altogether.

Completely hurt by her harsh words, I feel the illusions cultivated throughout the day crumble, as I disentangle myself from her and get out of bed.

Then she tries to go after me.

- I'll do whatever you want, but please let me go... You've always wanted this, haven't you? So, I'll give you what you want... I… I'll do what you want, but let me go, for God's sake. Let's negotiate...

Tears well up in her eyes, which makes me even more nervous.

- Negotiate? Negotiate? Do you really think one night of sex is all I want from you?

- No, I... I... Please, Herr Kommandant, I...

- Shut up! Do you really think you can buy me off with sex and walk away like that's all I want from you?

Silent, she lowers her head and begins to sob. And I, deeply hurt and irritated that she has sold herself so low and that she has shattered all my expectations, feel the force of my hatred and prejudice come back again. Her behaviour made me realize that what I really want cannot be given to me, as she is nothing more than a little Jewish whore, even willing to trade her own body to corrupt me. Different worlds that should never have crossed one day.

And then the old me comes back, just to mock me.

- You already knew it would be like this, old man. Deep down you knew! It seems that my past self, the one wearing a uniform with a skull and a swastika, has emerged from the tomb to make me wake up and feel, once again, the weight of her contempt and the raw reality of our situation.

And then, before I make another big mistake, I grab her robe from the floor and throw it hard on her.

- Cover up, you... you little Jewish bitch! I turn and leave, slamming the door and double locking the key.

And as I walk away, I hear her pounding on the door, screaming, and crying desperately.

- Coward, murderer, let me go... Please let me go...

I slam my bedroom door and go to the nightstand. I grab my revolver, walk out of my room, walk down the hall, and stop again in front of her bedroom door. But with the same impetus that led me to grab the gun, I give up on the madness I intended to commit and return to my room. From the counter, I unload my gun holster all the way up while screaming desperately.

- Ahhhhhhhhhhhh! Damn! Damn you!

I put the barrel of the gun to my head and fire. Unfortunately, there was no more bullet. Not a single bullet to finish off a coward like me.

I drop to my knees and drop the gun to the ground.

With hands on my face, amid the strong smell of gunpowder that lingered in the revolver

I can still smell her perfume on my fingers, ingrained in my nose, the same way her taste is ingrained in my mouth. Cursed love that doesn't give me peace, doesn't give me rest!

And, again, the words of that Chilean poet2 come back to my mind.

- I'm going away. I am sad: but I am always sad. I come from your arms. I don't know where I'm going...

1, 2. Chilean poet Pablo Neruda, mentioned earlier in this story.