In the warmth of Costas’ flat Branen started to thaw out.
He was tortured by the image of the contorted body being flung forward over him. He kept feeling the warm blood as it ran down his face and the taste as it crept into his mouth. He was at the kitchen table for an hour when Costas appeared from the bedroom, “What’s happening Ben.. what have you got yourself into?”
Friday the thirteenth had dawned and Costas felt uneasy.
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