17 de desembre de 2017

Angel voice

Last week, I was speaking with my husband about his constant business trips. I am many weekends alone, that’s why I decided to talk to him. I asked him about his work and what he does in the weekend congresses. He said it was a secret. As I wanted to know the answer, I threatened him to end our relationship.

Yesterday, as it was Friday, Derek was going on a trip again. At midnight, the hall door opened. I asked if the person who had opened the door was Derek, but nobody answered. I got up from the sofa and in the hall I saw three silhouettes approaching. I ran to the room to lock me there, but there were five more people waiting in the lounge. They tied my hands behind my back and also my legs. I did not stop sobbing and I asked to them not to hurt me.

Those people scared me so much. They wore anti-gas masks, voice distorters and all kinds of weapons in the pockets of their clothes and jackets. Someone came up to me, took off his mask and put powders on my face. That person started talking and I recognized his voice instantly: it was Derek, my husband.

–Now you know what type of work congresses I do and these seven people are my employees –he said to me. He kept telling me all kind of things about his work but that dust (burundanga) had left me mindless, I didn’t react to anything. I looked like a puppet without a soul. He said to me that he wouldn’t make me suffer anymore because he loved me. As he had drugged me and Ï looked like a puppet, I was at his disposal without knowing or wanting that.

Right now, I am telling you this sadness, my daughter. I jumped off the roof of our house because your father ordered it and you saw it all. You also had to see how they tore my body with an ax and they set me on fire.

To this day, you still can not hear me because I am an angel, but right now your father is drowning in an oil bathtub. I know you do not deserve this suffering, but he did not deserve to live. I hope you can forgive me.

Àngela Querol March
Institut Cristòfol Despuig (Tortosa)

*Conte premiat en la categoria de batxillerat i cicles formatius en el VIII Concurs de microrelats de terror 2017, organitzat per la biblioteca de l'Institut Cristòfol Despuig.