Five

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The place where his left ear used to be was throbbing to the rhythm of his heartbeat. Fast and panicked. His breath came out in short, loud gasps. Nora was just a few steps away from him, leaning over the table where the pistol and knife lay. Her face was contorted, but she was no longer crying.

‘Please,’ he whispered, his voice hoarse. ‘Please don’t do it.’

Now she let out a dry, strangled sob. ‘Be quiet.’

‘Why won’t you untie me? We still have a chance… please just untie me, okay? Okay?’

She didn’t respond. Her right hand wavered shakily over the weapons, which gave off a dull gleam in the light of the naked bulb.

His whole body convulsed with fear. He writhed around on the chair, twisting as far as the ropes would let him. They cut into his flesh, burning him, as unyielding as steel bands.

But it’s not my fault, it’s not my fault, it’s not my…

He screwed his eyes tightly shut, only to open them again. He had to see what was happening. Nora’s hand was on the knife now.

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