Chapter 11The Brotherhood of Light
A sharp gag of vomit ascends as fast as the elevator of a skyscraper. I escape to anywhere but there. I carelessly pour out onto the floor, retroactively, everything I've ingested in the last twenty-four hours: from dinner, to lunch, to breakfast, and back again to dinner.
In the moments of lucidity, I review fragments of what I will carefully report to my psychiatrist later in life.
Terror and pain are printed on the face of the first man lying supine, who has been skinned like an animal at s*******r. He is drenched in his own blood, completely eviscerated, his limbs torn off, while with demonic ferocity people who no longer have anything human contain their b****y limbs.
Vomit. It is the hatred that comes out uncontrolled.
Of the other man it is no
