This lady is my guest

Her fingers moved along his waistband.

He embraced her wrist.

"Not today, devil angel."

He turned to the bar and flicked at the bartender.

He appeared out of nowhere, carrying paper and pencil.

Atibor accepted the things and wrote on the paper.

"I think you are an open minded person, this will be a completely new experience for you tomorrow night."

He continued writing.

"If you want to end your desolate existence, if you are brave enough to leave traces in this existence, you will join me."

He put the folded slip of paper behind Laila's trouser button and pulled her close.

Slowly he lowered his lips to Laila's mouth and let his tongue slide into her mouth.

They let their tongues play with each other.

When he broke away from her, he flicked at the bartender.

"The lady is my guest."

He turned to Laila and smiled at her.

"Can you still drive?"

"Clear."

"Okay, see you tomorrow."

With these words he turned and walked through the crowd.

Laila watched him for a long time, until the crowd devoured him.

Slowly, she smoked his cigarette and headed for the exit.

The bouncer let her out.

Laila's Porsche stopped in front of the door, squealing tires.

The butler jumped out and opened the car door for Laila.

"Great car."

Laila sank into the cool leather.

I hope she came home safely.

The alcohol makes her pretty hard.

Laila drove cautiously towards the highway and was very pleased with the course of the evening.

The first step was known to be the hardest.

Laila woke up with a terrible headache.

Her skull was blaring.

With narrowed eyes she looked at the soft, sweeping fabric of her four-poster bed.

The brightness hurt in her eyes.

God, she needed an aspirin.

Carefully, she sat up and held her head.

With slow steps she went into her bathroom and took a tablet from the mirror cabinet.

She put her cupped hands under the tap and washed down the tablet.

She splashed cold water on her face.

Better.

Mournfully she looked at her face in the mirror.

Her skin was Gray, with dark circles under her eyes.

After nearly a year in jail, she was probably a bit out of practice for celebrating.

Nothing an extended shower and a few laps in the cool lake could not turn right again.

Laila decided to spend a few hours in the gym today.

She was curious if the next night would open her door to Symbolia.

To Symbolia and to Tamara.

Laila went back to her bedroom.

She sighed.

Her clothes were still scattered wildly in the room.

She picked up the white slip from the glass table.

The evenly oblique font by Atibor contained precise instructions.

11pm, parking Hollow Valley, black leather coat, nothing else.

Laila grinned.

She had to ask Benedict to get her a black leather coat.

With head down, Summersby shuffled toward Laila .

His arms hung on the side of his body.

Again and again he clenched his hands into fists.

The fine hairs on her arms straightened as Summersby came closer and closer.

She needed a perfect timing.

Disgusted, she felt for this small, round shape in his three-piece white custom-made suit.

A golden chain lolled lazily on his vest.

He had lost his glasses when fighting with the curtain.

He squinted his eyes in the typical way shred shortsightedness.

Countless drops of sweat had formed on his shiny bald head.

His face was a tortured grimace.

He was visibly suffering the destruction of his life's work.

Laila took note with grim satisfaction.

"Stop!" Roaring, her voice sounded through the room.

Summersby did not give a damn.

He had her sights on her.

She was responsible for the destruction of the girls and boys.

He growled.

Laila clenched her fingers in Danielle's clothes and jerked her body back and forth on the tub.

"Stop, or I'll push her into the broth." Summersby stopped.

He whimpered and looked fearfully at Danielle's body.

"Just a little nudge and nothing will remind you of your perversion."

Hatred glinted in his eyes.

He reached into the inside pocket of his jacket.

Her breath caught.

Laila stood on the balcony of her bedroom and looked at the black leather coat that lay spread out on her bed.

The sun was gradually setting and blazing the sky with flaming blush.

The coat looked like a big, dead animal.

Laila shivered and wrapped her arms around her body.

Suddenly her head was filled with shrill laughter.

Laila desperately punched her fists against her temples.

It has been like that for hours.

Gradually she realised that she was on her way to madness.

No wonder - how should one stay in mental health, if one wanted to believe exactly the words of those who pulled one deeper and deeper into the swamp.

Brutus whom she had trusted and surrendered.

Anita, who used Laila only for her fanatical purposes, and finally Atibor, who paid Laila so much attention.

She knew he was playing a game with her.

But his cultivated manner and presence had left an impression on her.

Although Laila knew that she had to kill him, her soul suffered pathetic torments.

Laila , rejected from childhood, unloved, and reduced to her body, begged for affection and attention deep inside her.

The shrill laughter became quieter, only a high giggle, until finally died.

There was a black void left that burned Laila from the inside.

Was Miguel right? Was she on the brink of an abyss and ready to take the next step? What would happen then? Would she fall forever or be shattered on the ground?

Laila stepped into the bathroom under the shower.

She let the water first hot, then cold over her body.

She supported herself with both arms on the cold flow and felt the patter of water jets on her neck. The wet hair hung in her face.

Again the shrill laughter sounded in her head.

Laila closed her eyes wearily, hoping it would stop as soon as she released Tamara.

What would she have to endure that night to earn Atibor's trust?

She had to become a member of Symbolia, otherwise she would never come near Tamara and find out what they had done or had done to her.

Laila emerged dripping from the shower and rubbed her wet body with musk oil.

She still heard the shrill laughter.

Laila stepped onto the balcony and let her body dry with the warm wind.

Better, the voice laughed as she spoke to her.

At 10:00 pm Laila, wrapped in the black leather coat, sat behind the wheel of the Porsche, roaring toward Hollow Valley.

Laila looked down at her bare legs.

In a general traffic control it would come pretty much in explanatory emergency.

The night was dark, no star or moon in the sky.

As if the lights of the night were hiding from something.

Laila fervently hoped that this night Atibor had planned something terrible with Tamara.

She did not carry any weapons.

Where could she have hidden these too? Suddenly her skull was filled with horrible laughter again. Startled, she tore the steering wheel and almost collided with a silver Mercedes.

At the last moment, the driver was able to dodge, accelerated under angry Horn and raced off.

Laila crawled on the right lane with his heart pounding and was overtaken by numerous cars.

Somehow, she made it to the Hollow Valley exit and stopped the car under a bridge on the stanchion.

With trembling fingers, she opened the glove box and reached for a pack of cigarettes.

Laila was shivering all over and had difficulty igniting the tip with her lighter.

She leaned his head against her seat, slowly expelling the smoke through her nose.

If this went on, she was a danger to herself, others and, above all, no help for Tamara.

How was she supposed to survive the night?

The headlights of the Porsche pierced the darkness before them.

Laila saw swirling dust particles in the cones of light shimmering like tiny gold particles.

The darkness under the bridge seemed alive to her.

The trees and shrubs that lined the street in front of her rose sharply outlined against the night sky.

Some branches looked like deformed claws reaching for the road.

Laila threw the half-smoked butt on the asphalt.

She clutched the steering wheel, unable to move the car.

What if Anita's claim was true?

Did Jessica send you a message from the hereafter?

Was she God's executor?

If this God really existed, why should the members of Symbolia not actually worship the devil?

Was it perhaps the devil who had sneaked into her head and laughed at Laila with knowing foreboding?

In the light of the front lamps suddenly a big wild hare appeared.

He squatted in front of her car, flicking his nose uneasily, and looked at Laila with big, brown eyes. Laila was completely caught by the animal's eyes.

The light reflected in them and drew golden rings around the pupils.

The laughter in her head died.

Laila pushed the clutch and put in the first gear.

With the soft click of the lever, the animal continued on its way and disappeared in the dark.

Laila went on, on her behalf.