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Alice Clover

sleeping angel

All events described in the book are fictitious.

Any coincidence of characters, their names, biographies with real people is accidental and unintentional.

You try to make you believe in all of his lies
It's been a long, long, long, long, long, long time
long time life

The inevitability of the end, the instantaneous transition from being to non-being, the gaping entrance to the crucible of trials, the opportunity to slide into the abyss every minute - such is human existence.

You can't run away from darkness. She always follows you.

Knowing your own darkness is the best method for dealing with the darknesses of other people.

He was very close, perhaps sitting motionless in the deep leather armchair opposite the bed, looking at me, wondering how best to deal with me now. Calmly, not hurrying and not succumbing to panic or a momentary impulse to strangle me right here, he looked at me, as if at a rare forest animal that had accidentally fallen into his snares. He could keep me in his captivity, but that was not enough for him. I could imagine his confusion and annoyance, his attempts calculate me, looking for the best options. They were not, and that is why nothing happened - hour after hour Andre remained for me only a rustle, a breath of wind in the still air of the room, a quiet sigh, from which I was covered with a cold sweat.

How much more time do I have?

At first it was scary that I could not think calmly. Andre grabbed me, twisted my arms behind my back and covered my mouth with his hand to keep me from screaming. A few hours ago, all this would have been a game, but now it was happening for real. I was lying on the bed, as I was - in house trousers in a cage and in a T-shirt. The bound hands hurt unbearably, the legs strained less. I could not change the position of the body in any way - spread-eagled, in a bandage over my eyes, I lost my orientation in time and space. There was no gag, but he was not needed. Who would hear us here? Only my cat, but Andre could not be afraid of him.

How much time has passed? Few hours? For the first hour, I was just shaking with a fever of fear, and I could not help it, but it turns out that even fear can be tired. It seemed to me that I felt warmth from Andre's body, but then I was suddenly frightened that he had left a long time ago, and I was lying here alone, and I would lie like this until ... until ... No, I forbade myself to think about this “bye”. Sometimes I inhaled noisily through my nose and then I smelled the subtle smell of Chinese menthol oil, which Andre used to grease my hand with to make the tattoo heal faster. The tattoo had been in order for a long time, but Andre clearly liked taking care of me, and I liked it too, so I didn’t interfere with these impulses in any way, only sometimes I got angry that my fiancé treats my body like a fetish. I said that I was still a man, and not his doll, and then Andre began to laugh. I was offended, and he kissed me on the nose and assured me that he never forgot for a minute that my body is a vessel with soul and mind.

Now I knew that he was telling the truth. He always remembered this, and now he was more interested in what was in my head: my thoughts, my memory and everything that I know. The body lay tired, devastated, useless. I was afraid and hoped that Andre had not left, had not left me here alone.

I no longer screamed, did not fight and did not ask to untie my hands or open my eyes, I knew that he would not do this. Andre caught me red-handed, I crossed the line, and everything changed. He suddenly became so calm, thoughtful and quiet, like a warlock before a sacrifice. He didn't ask me what exactly I was looking for on the Internet and what made me so interested in the recently deceased hacker, Dick Waiter. Andre asked me why I didn't believe him. He was not interested in the fact that my ex-boyfriend Seryozha was dead. Andre asked if I loved him even for one day? I was silent and crying, tears flowed from under the dark fabric of the bandage with which Andre blindfolded my eyes. A dense, anatomically curved mask did not allow me to peep, and finally, after all our games and preludes, my helplessness and despair became real, authentic. I was scared to death, I was afraid of death, I was afraid of Andre.

At some point, when I lost track of time and almost dozed off - monstrously, but fatigue took its toll - Andre sat down next to me on the bed to which I was tied, and stroked my hair. I twitched all over, only to scream out in pain at my bound hands. Then we were silent for a long time. I gave up first.

“Let me go,” I asked in a shaky whisper, and then Andre made a sound like he was choking on air. Nothing else. Maybe he really is gone.

A handsome man and a beast all rolled into one. My Andre, my handsome prince - he acted on me like a drug, mesmerizing with his serious face, amazing magnetic gaze, the laid-back gait of a person who does not know what pain is. A tall, young man with excellent posture, radiant with health, full of lust for life, he always looked in such a way that it seemed to burn through. He knew what he wanted - he wanted me, and I melted at the very thought. Who wouldn't melt?! He embodied everything that one can look for in a man, possessed everything that I could only dream of. Even now, a part of me clung desperately to the plot of the old tale, and I told myself that maybe if I kissed him just one more time… Maybe I should have let him explain…

My beautiful killer. Now I understood: he killed Seryozha. Maybe he killed Dick Waiter too. If not himself, then at least he knew about this murder, had something to do with it, maybe he ordered it. How it's done? How can you sit like this at some small table in a small Parisian cafe and place an order - first for a cup of coffee, then for a person. Oh yeah, Andre doesn't drink coffee.

He will kill me too. He just needs time. He needs to decide how...

One thing I did not doubt - he really loved me. Otherwise it was impossible to explain how long he thought and did nothing. All this endless night, Andre just sat, looked at me and thought. About what? Maybe about keeping me alive after all? He loved me. Moreover, he wanted to possess me, and therefore now it was difficult for him to simply take and erase me from his life and from his memory. It was much easier with Serezha, he hated him. I suddenly remembered that evening when we were standing in the library at his mother's house, and Andre's eyes burned with undisguised hatred.

Delicate flames. sleeping anel

Midnight Paris time - 12

All events described in the book are fictitious.

Any coincidence of characters, their names, biographies with real people is accidental and unintentional.

You try to make you believe in all of his lies

It's been a long, long, long, long, long, long time

long time life

Depeche Mode

The inevitability of the end, the instantaneous transition from being to non-being, the gaping entrance to the crucible of trials, the opportunity to slide into the abyss every minute - such is human existence.

Victor Hugo "The Man Who Laughs"

You can't run away from darkness. She always follows you.

Fable Master of Shadows

Knowing your own darkness is the best method for dealing with the darknesses of other people.

Carl Gustav Jung

* * *

He was very close, perhaps sitting motionless in the deep leather armchair opposite the bed, looking at me, wondering how best to deal with me now. Calmly, not hurrying and not succumbing to panic or a momentary impulse to strangle me right here, he looked at me, as if at a rare forest animal that had accidentally fallen into his snares. He could keep me in his captivity, but that was not enough for him. I could imagine his confusion and annoyance, his attempts calculate me, looking for the best options. They were not, and that is why nothing happened - hour after hour Andre remained for me only a rustle, a breath of wind in the still air of the room, a quiet sigh, from which I was covered with a cold sweat.

How much more time do I have?

At first it was scary that I could not think calmly. Andre grabbed me, twisted my arms behind my back and covered my mouth with his hand to keep me from screaming. A few hours ago, all this would have been a game, but now it was happening for real. I was lying on the bed, as I was - in house trousers in a box and in a T-shirt. The bound hands hurt unbearably, the legs strained less. I could not change the position of the body in any way - spread-eagled, in a bandage over my eyes, I lost my orientation in time and space. There was no gag, but he was not needed. Who would hear us here? Only my cat, but Andre could not be afraid of him.

Alice Clover

sleeping angel

All events described in the book are fictitious.

Any coincidence of characters, their names, biographies with real people is accidental and unintentional.

You try to make you believe in all of his lies
It's been a long, long, long, long, long, long time
long time life

The inevitability of the end, the instantaneous transition from being to non-being, the gaping entrance to the crucible of trials, the opportunity to slide into the abyss every minute - such is human existence.

You can't run away from darkness. She always follows you.

Knowing your own darkness is the best method for dealing with the darknesses of other people.

He was very close, perhaps sitting motionless in the deep leather armchair opposite the bed, looking at me, wondering how best to deal with me now. Calmly, not hurrying and not succumbing to panic or a momentary impulse to strangle me right here, he looked at me, as if at a rare forest animal that had accidentally fallen into his snares. He could keep me in his captivity, but that was not enough for him. I could imagine his confusion and annoyance, his attempts calculate me, looking for the best options. They were not, and that is why nothing happened - hour after hour Andre remained for me only a rustle, a breath of wind in the still air of the room, a quiet sigh, from which I was covered with a cold sweat.

How much more time do I have?

At first it was scary that I could not think calmly. Andre grabbed me, twisted my arms behind my back and covered my mouth with his hand to keep me from screaming. A few hours ago, all this would have been a game, but now it was happening for real. I was lying on the bed, as I was - in house trousers in a cage and in a T-shirt. The bound hands hurt unbearably, the legs strained less. I could not change the position of the body in any way - spread-eagled, in a bandage over my eyes, I lost my orientation in time and space. There was no gag, but he was not needed. Who would hear us here? Only my cat, but Andre could not be afraid of him.

How much time has passed? Few hours? For the first hour, I was just shaking with a fever of fear, and I could not help it, but it turns out that even fear can be tired. It seemed to me that I felt warmth from Andre's body, but then I was suddenly frightened that he had left a long time ago, and I was lying here alone, and I would lie like this until ... until ... No, I forbade myself to think about this “bye”. Sometimes I inhaled noisily through my nose and then I smelled the subtle smell of Chinese menthol oil, which Andre used to grease my hand with to make the tattoo heal faster. The tattoo had been in order for a long time, but Andre clearly liked taking care of me, and I liked it too, so I didn’t interfere with these impulses in any way, only sometimes I got angry that my fiancé treats my body like a fetish. I said that I was still a man, and not his doll, and then Andre began to laugh. I was offended, and he kissed me on the nose and assured me that he never forgot for a minute that my body is a vessel with soul and mind.

Now I knew that he was telling the truth. He always remembered this, and now he was more interested in what was in my head: my thoughts, my memory and everything that I know. The body lay tired, devastated, useless. I was afraid and hoped that Andre had not left, had not left me here alone.

I no longer screamed, did not fight and did not ask to untie my hands or open my eyes, I knew that he would not do this. Andre caught me red-handed, I crossed the line, and everything changed. He suddenly became so calm, thoughtful and quiet, like a warlock before a sacrifice. He didn't ask me what exactly I was looking for on the Internet and what made me so interested in the recently deceased hacker, Dick Waiter. Andre asked me why I didn't believe him. He was not interested in the fact that my ex-boyfriend Seryozha was dead. Andre asked if I loved him even for one day? I was silent and crying, tears flowed from under the dark fabric of the bandage with which Andre blindfolded my eyes. A dense, anatomically curved mask did not allow me to peep, and finally, after all our games and preludes, my helplessness and despair became real, authentic. I was scared to death, I was afraid of death, I was afraid of Andre.

At some point, when I lost track of time and almost dozed off - monstrously, but fatigue took its toll - Andre sat down next to me on the bed to which I was tied, and stroked my hair. I twitched all over, only to scream out in pain at my bound hands. Then we were silent for a long time. I gave up first.

“Let me go,” I asked in a shaky whisper, and then Andre made a sound like he was choking on air. Nothing else. Maybe he really is gone.

A handsome man and a beast all rolled into one. My Andre, my handsome prince - he acted on me like a drug, mesmerizing with his serious face, amazing magnetic gaze, the laid-back gait of a person who does not know what pain is. A tall, young man with excellent posture, radiant with health, full of lust for life, he always looked in such a way that it seemed to burn through. He knew what he wanted - he wanted me, and I melted at the very thought. Who wouldn't melt?! He embodied everything that one can look for in a man, possessed everything that I could only dream of. Even now, a part of me clung desperately to the plot of the old tale, and I told myself that maybe if I kissed him just one more time… Maybe I should have let him explain…

My beautiful killer. Now I understood: he killed Seryozha. Maybe he killed Dick Waiter too. If not himself, then at least he knew about this murder, had something to do with it, maybe he ordered it. How it's done? How can you sit like this at some small table in a small Parisian cafe and place an order - first for a cup of coffee, then for a person. Oh yeah, Andre doesn't drink coffee.

He will kill me too. He just needs time. He needs to decide how...

One thing I did not doubt - he really loved me. Otherwise it was impossible to explain how long he thought and did nothing. All this endless night, Andre just sat, looked at me and thought. About what? Maybe about keeping me alive after all? He loved me. Moreover, he wanted to possess me, and therefore now it was difficult for him to simply take and erase me from his life and from his memory. It was much easier with Serezha, he hated him. I suddenly remembered that evening when we were standing in the library at his mother's house, and Andre's eyes burned with undisguised hatred.

"It kills me to think that anyone was with you but me."

He wanted to kill him, it wasn't just a wish, it became a plan of action. I could not say exactly how it all happened and what happened, but I could guess. Theories are all I could afford. Serezha saw Dick Waiter. When? How? I tried to recreate that day by the minute. My hands hurt unbearably, making it difficult to think, but I pushed the pain into the background, pushed it into the top drawer of the dresser, closed the room with pain, threw the key into the water of a huge lake. This kind of meditation gave me a little respite.

I was standing downstairs in the hall when Seryozha came running. “It will be a surprise,” he said. - Come with me!" Before that, he was absent. Looks like he's gone for napkins. How long was he gone? Seems like quite a long time. During this time, he not only found napkins, but also a gallery located in a completely different, non-guest part of the house. The gallery in Gabrielle's house is so far away that you can't wander into it just like that, accidentally on the way to the kitchen. Andre wasn't there either, and I had no idea where he was. I was with my mom, at least most of the time.

So that's when everything happened. Seryozha saw Dick Waiter, and Andre immediately signed his death warrant. Why? Only because of this! Serezha saw that a hacker, a criminal who was wanted all over the world - Dick Waiter - comfortably lives in the house of a noble French family.

So that's why Andre provoked this whole goodbye scene. He probably thought it would be the easiest way to separate us. First he took me away, and later, near the hospital, Andre met Seryozha. Perhaps it happened by accident. May be. I was just speculating based on bits of facts. Based on the video footage that was shown to me at the police station. Drunk Seryozha, full of questions and desire to fight. This is the perfect opportunity. How easy it must be to deal with a drunk. And yet ... Andre left, practically without touching Seryozha with a finger. And then Serezha just disappeared.

Alice Clover

sleeping angel

All events described in the book are fictitious.

Any coincidence of characters, their names, biographies with real people is accidental and unintentional.

You try to make you believe in all of his lies

It's been a long, long, long, long, long, long time

long time life

Depeche Mode

The inevitability of the end, the instantaneous transition from being to non-being, the gaping entrance to the crucible of trials, the opportunity to slide into the abyss every minute - such is human existence.

Victor Hugo "The Man Who Laughs"

You can't run away from darkness. She always follows you.

Fable Master of Shadows

Knowing your own darkness is the best method for dealing with the darknesses of other people .

Carl Gustav Jung

He was very close, perhaps sitting motionless in the deep leather armchair opposite the bed, looking at me, wondering how best to deal with me now. Calmly, not hurrying and not succumbing to panic or a momentary impulse to strangle me right here, he looked at me, as if at a rare forest animal that had accidentally fallen into his snares. He could keep me in his captivity, but that was not enough for him. I could imagine his confusion and annoyance, his attempts calculate me, looking for the best options. They were not, and that is why nothing happened - hour after hour Andre remained for me only a rustle, a breath of wind in the still air of the room, a quiet sigh, from which I was covered with a cold sweat.

How much more time do I have?

At first it was scary that I could not think calmly. Andre grabbed me, twisted my arms behind my back and covered my mouth with his hand to keep me from screaming. A few hours ago, all this would have been a game, but now it was happening for real. I was lying on the bed, as I was - in house trousers in a cage and in a T-shirt. The bound hands hurt unbearably, the legs strained less. I could not change the position of the body in any way - spread-eagled, in a bandage over my eyes, I lost my orientation in time and space. There was no gag, but he was not needed. Who would hear us here? Only my cat, but Andre could not be afraid of him.

How much time has passed? Few hours? For the first hour, I was just shaking with a fever of fear, and I could not help it, but it turns out that even fear can be tired. It seemed to me that I felt warmth from Andre's body, but then I was suddenly frightened that he had left a long time ago, and I was lying here alone, and I would lie like this until ... until ... No, I forbade myself to think about this “bye”. Sometimes I inhaled noisily through my nose and then I smelled the subtle smell of Chinese menthol oil, which Andre used to grease my hand with to make the tattoo heal faster. The tattoo had been in order for a long time, but Andre clearly liked taking care of me, and I liked it too, so I didn’t interfere with these impulses in any way, only sometimes I got angry that my fiancé treats my body like a fetish. I said that I was still a man, and not his doll, and then Andre began to laugh. I was offended, and he kissed me on the nose and assured me that he never forgot for a minute that my body is a vessel with soul and mind.

Now I knew that he was telling the truth. He always remembered this, and now he was more interested in what was in my head: my thoughts, my memory and everything that I know. The body lay tired, devastated, useless. I was afraid and hoped that Andre had not left, had not left me here alone.

I no longer screamed, did not fight and did not ask to untie my hands or open my eyes, I knew that he would not do this. Andre caught me red-handed, I crossed the line, and everything changed. He suddenly became so calm, thoughtful and quiet, like a warlock before a sacrifice. He didn't ask me what exactly I was looking for on the Internet and what made me so interested in the recently deceased hacker, Dick Waiter. Andre asked me why I didn't believe him. He was not interested in the fact that my ex-boyfriend Seryozha was dead. Andre asked if I loved him even for one day? I was silent and crying, tears flowed from under the dark fabric of the bandage with which Andre blindfolded my eyes. A dense, anatomically curved mask did not allow me to peep, and finally, after all our games and preludes, my helplessness and despair became real, authentic. I was scared to death, I was afraid of death, I was afraid of Andre.

At some point, when I lost track of time and almost dozed off - monstrously, but fatigue took its toll - Andre sat down next to me on the bed to which I was tied, and stroked my hair. I twitched all over, only to scream out in pain at my bound hands. Then we were silent for a long time. I gave up first.

“Let me go,” I asked in a shaky whisper, and then Andre made a sound like he was choking on air. Nothing else. Maybe he really is gone.

A handsome man and a beast all rolled into one. My Andre, my handsome prince - he acted on me like a drug, mesmerizing with his serious face, amazing magnetic gaze, the laid-back gait of a person who does not know what pain is. A tall, young man with excellent posture, radiant with health, full of lust for life, he always looked in such a way that it seemed to burn through. He knew what he wanted - he wanted me, and I melted at the very thought. Who wouldn't melt?! He embodied everything that one can look for in a man, possessed everything that I could only dream of. Even now, a part of me clung desperately to the plot of the old tale, and I told myself that maybe if I kissed him just one more time… Maybe I should have let him explain…

My beautiful killer. Now I understood: he killed Seryozha. Maybe he killed Dick Waiter too. If not himself, then at least he knew about this murder, had something to do with it, maybe he ordered it. How it's done? How can you sit like this at some small table in a small Parisian cafe and place an order - first for a cup of coffee, then for a person. Oh yeah, Andre doesn't drink coffee.

He will kill me too. He just needs time. He needs to decide how...

One thing I did not doubt - he really loved me. Otherwise it was impossible to explain how long he thought and did nothing. All this endless night, Andre just sat, looked at me and thought. About what? Maybe about keeping me alive after all? He loved me. Moreover, he wanted to possess me, and therefore now it was difficult for him to simply take and erase me from his life and from his memory. It was much easier with Serezha, he hated him. I suddenly remembered that evening when we were standing in the library at his mother's house, and Andre's eyes burned with undisguised hatred.

"It kills me to think that anyone was with you but me."

He wanted to kill him, it wasn't just a wish, it became a plan of action. I could not say exactly how it all happened and what happened, but I could guess. Theories are all I could afford. Serezha saw Dick Waiter. When? How? I tried to recreate that day by the minute. My hands hurt unbearably, making it difficult to think, but I pushed the pain into the background, pushed it into the top drawer of the dresser, closed the room with pain, threw the key into the water of a huge lake. This kind of meditation gave me a little respite.