Page 38 of Love of the Egoist
Yugo nodded. The doctor, realizing that the conversation had met a dead end, took Greg, who was still pressing a handkerchief to his nose, by his elbow and guided him out of the room.
“Come, my friend. Let me see what I can do for you.”
As soon as the door closed, the equitable mask fell from Yugo’s face, leaving him bare with his worried expression.
“Idiot…” he muttered, dropping to his knees to the animal fur right beside his bed where the sleeping prisoner lay. He rested his head on a bloodless, bandaged hand and closed his eyes. “I’m going to kill you with my bare hands as soon as you are better…”
??E??
KUON OPENED VACANT EYESand stared at the ceiling. Still the same damned white room without even one colorful spot. His brilliant plan had failed. Or maybe he’d died and this was his fucking personal hell?
A constant isolation of white nothingness. The madness of silence. The itch of a lonely mind.
None of the variants brought him relief. He bit his lip and turned to the wall. His whole body hurt, his head tugged him down, and even the small movement stretched closing wounds on his back, cracking them open.
The suffocating despair tight in his chest was overwhelming. His eyes burned, but he was too weak to lift his arm and shield his eyes from the sun leaking into the room.
Shit… Yugo will never forgive me. He must be furious that his fucking toy decided to play by its own rules.
Long and agonizing death from a bullet in the stomach would be the kindest punishment he could hope for. He didn’t even want to think about what other things the sick, twisted brain of this bastard could come up with.
Kuon tried to get up but felt no stronger than a newly born kitten, filled with sedatives. His parched throat burned, but his pride prevented him from asking for help or water.
He looked down, kicked the blanket off and tried to estimate the damage. Tight bandages wound around his left arm, right hand, right foot and part of his torso. Bringing his left hand to his face he tried to make a fist. Failed. His fingers, barely moving, stayed open.
“Perfect…” he whispered exploring his bandaged chest with his other hand. “It’s just… fucking perfect. What a brilliant plan, Kuon. Your analytical abilities in stressful situations exceed comprehension.”
Lying in a white room was boring and he stared out of the window at the overcast, melancholic sky. He didn’t try to get up, not feeling any energy left in his broken body. The drugs, he assumed he’d been under, had worn off and his cuts ached.
At the end of the day, Kuon, suffering from thirst and uncertainty about his future, mumbled senseless things to chase away the brain wrenching silence. The sky merged with the earth when Greg brought him a meal in a plastic dish. He looked at Kuon with mistrust, placed the tray on the floor, and turned to leave.
“Sorry about that… I had to try. Nothing personal,” Kuon said.
The broad frame in a black jacket stilled in the doorway, blocking the corridor from view. Greg glanced back, his eye squinted.
“When… if I get better you can return the favor…” Kuon finished his thought, and Greg’s lips stretched in a broad smile.
“Now I get why Boss likes you.” He gave Kuon a thumbs-up and left the room.
“Likes? If this isliking,I don’t want to know what hate is…” Kuon mumbled to himself, but he didn’t want to expand on that idea and closed his eyes.
??E??
IT WAS THE CALM BEFORE A BREWING STORM, filled with long hours of loneliness and anxious waiting for the next encounter. Kuon guessed what sort of behavior he would have to adopt, tried to imagine Yugo’s reactions, his words, and struggled to prepare possible arguments. But Yugo didn’t come the next day.
Kuon’s heart sunk. Haunting feelings heaved his chest. Could it be that he’d signed his own death sentence? Or maybe he’d pissed Yugo off so much that he’d decided not to associate with him anymore.
Am I left here forever? Forever alone?Weird panic rushed through his chest at that thought. He tried to push it away, but it kept coming back again and again.
Greg’s frequent visits gave Kuon a slight hope that Yugo wouldn’t kill him. At least not now.
He changed Kuon’s bandages once a day, covering his cuts with a thick layer of antiseptic. Twice a day Greg gave him drugs, but no matter how hard he pressed the topic, he refused to speak about his boss and ignored all questions.
??E??
SITTING IN THE DARK,Yugo couldn’t stop thinking about the latest news. His chest buzzed with irritation as his fingers tapped the leather handle.
Ali Amin had been executed twelve hours ago. The news of his decapitation circulated on the internet. Torrents of blood flooded Afghanistan streets.
