A TOUR IN THE PARK

As it was already decided, I would join the toothbrushes with my Ellen. That aimless life, even before all the evil caused by the book of darkness, had eaten away all my character, consuming any human trait and decency aspect of a dignified man. Threats from the students' parents, the dean keeping an eye on me. As I remember saying at the beginning of these reports, I lost my way and shame on my face. At the moment, perhaps the biggest obstacle was this Detective Borges and his investigation. We were so drunk that night that I hardly remember what I said to him. I did a long-distance call for Ellen in London warning that I would need to fix some things but that within a month or two I would be with her in the queen's land. The mother's condition has improved somewhat in recent weeks. She started a VHS course, of knitting, crochet, and sewing in general, which was sold in issues in one of these chic magazines. Her friends started to go over to the house. A very bearable inconvenience since the aim was to see her better and I didn't even stay at home for a long time. Even though I was avoiding the students and the most troubled phase of the shameless little life I was taking. Aline came to see me a couple of times at school and I knew that even trying to disguise it, not wanting to be seen with her, our case was already public and was in the mouth of the people. I know that something changed that last night when I went to her house and that the episode happened with Pegasus and the book at the source and then she called me and I hung up on her. I was going to tell me the fourth story in the book and I didn't want to hear it. I was afraid she would be haunted like me by the book and I think I owed her something. Pain in conscience? Yes. Which was a good thing. Before, I certainly wouldn't think that way. I met Aline at the city park. She was wearing roller skates, shorts and a white rainbow-print T-shirt. That radiant smile and the coolness of youth. I felt happy. I hugged her. We eat ice cream, stroll and then sit on a bench, watching the kids playing football on the court. The day was sunny and Aline's joviality and irreverence made my spirit light and revived me, making me forget a little bit about suffering things, which unfortunately I couldn't do anything to change. - So the London photographer was the one who stole your heart? She asked, wrapping me in her arms. We were seated facing each other, sideways in relation to the bench. And she was sitting on her bare feet, she had taken off her skates. "She didn't steal my heart, stop it," I said laughing next. I took her face and tried to say it as seriously as I could be, - so much has happened. There's no use telling you. If I told you a paragraph that was all the absurdity of those terrible days, you would easily advise me to see a psychiatrist. - I could at least try, Reinaldo. I thought that I would be the only person you would trust to open up about it. Am I part of this or not? A little part. That night in the alley. The guys who assaulted us and you were stabbed, I saw it. And I saw you die too. You didn't know the agony I felt when I saw you there. You were delirious, your eyes were shaking under your eyelids, you were so agitated, you had a fever and then everything stopped. No spasms or delusions. Not one muscle responded to brain stimuli anymore. Gradually you lost your body heat and your limbs stiffened and you were dead. No breath, no pulse. I put my head on his chest and cried. Only then did I realize the urgency of asking for help. It was very much a warning cry that echoed from some mysterious place and warned me that I would have to act. That I might have a chance to save you. I ran to the pay phone, called 911 and the rest of the story you already know, right?

- Yes I know. And yes, I feel like I can trust you. Believe. If I were to tell someone, it would be for you and you deserve to know. I replied, looking into his eyes and holding his hands. That afternoon I told her everything and exposed myself to the point of being discredited and considered a madman. And in part she was right. After all, at some point she was witness to something, that although it was not in itself the supernatural world that abducted me, it had a very significant charge in it. She saw me dead. She witnessed all my martyrdom and then I looked at her with those frightened and tearful eyes and as alive as in the most intense moments when they could express all the passion of our passion. The words of one of the nuns rang in my ears now. "Don't run from the doe. Embrace the doe." Something like. It seemed crazy what I was going to do now. If it were a normal situation, I certainly wouldn't dare. But I did not hesitate, considering everything that has happened to me so far. I ran after the doe. She hasn't moved. Everyone on the street, from all sides, yelled at me and called me an idiot, crazy. Facing her, I looked her in the eye and instantly I was taken in body and soul to another place in space / time. It was night, it was raining and I was driving a car.