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(from Prologue)

When I was holding on to my love subject, that woman, my wife, how could I ever think that I would ever end up in such a place, or how could I realize then that I would need it as a refuge from her. You know, she made me do things that were at first beyond my ken, then there came a wild delight in doing them, a certain cool frenzy perhaps much like her father felt when he worked in that abattoir and struck numberless dumb animals with a bolt to the head before the sledge hammer came down in the final ecstasy of death. Yet, what is killing an animal to putting a human being out of her misery. The former is like squashing a mosquito on one's arm, the latter more subtle, more ingenious and satisfying. Oh, if I had only got her, but she escaped and is out there living a life while I am rotting away in here. Did I really say that I considered this place a refuge? No, never, a trap she set for me and I am caught.

What matter! I am aware that I digress, but then I always had a fondness for the discursive. Also, they give me tablets to keep me calm, but my mind keeps flashing on and off her. My work is incomplete. I may be on vacation, but all holidays end and then it shall begin again. They cannot keep me locked up forever. No, one day I will be out there, resuming my job as a funeral director, handling corpses as is my profession. Yes, I rest here whetting my revenge. I shall get her and others like her. A man must fight back or he is finished.
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