Stake through the heart

It is gray and chilly outside. From one day to the next, summer is over. After days and nights of rain, Father Winter is in the country. It seems there are no active people left. The streets are empty, the shops close early and everyone is tired. Like a bunch of collapsed plum puddings, we sit together more out of habit than sense. The energy is missing. I don't feel any better despite the new multivitamin pills I'm taking. Those pills are a trial and, like any trial, it is of no use. Given the high price, I doubt I will purchase them.

You really have to stop that behaviour, I tell Luc. That "sent from my iPhone" underneath every message makes it even worse. Why do you send all those messages at night, always between 2 and 3 a.m.?

His messages are full of language errors, incorrect punctuation, and no spaces, is he always drunk, I wonder. 
He drops a book of printed emails on my lap. Most have no more than one to three lines. There are some horrible poems. The series of late-night emails have one thing in common... They start with apologies, I love you, will you marry me and invariably end with 'I'll kill you'.

Do you ever read what you wrote, I ask.

He looks at me in surprise. Why would I? It's all here. He taps his head.

That is indeed where the obsession with someone with whom he never had a relationship with lies. It's all in his head and I wonder if he isn't or will pose a danger to that conscious person who wisely never answers him.

Luc's stories about happy togetherness are a fabrication.

What did you do together, Brigit asks?

Luc remains silent.

What is your most beautiful memory, Tom wants to know.

That time together on the porch swing, says Luc. His eyes are shining, does he have a fever, is he drunk or has he swallowed something?

The porch swing, Sam mutters, how long ago would that be?

As usual, no one seems to have heard him. That's probably why Sam sits where he always sits, aloof from the rest just like Jane.

Have you ever met, I want to know.

Of course, Luc roars, I'm not crazy, she is the love of my life. Don't you understand that? I hurt her a lot, you can read it there, I even apologized more than once. Then read! Can't you read!

Silently, Jane pours everyone a cup of tea. There are no biscuits, no chewing jaws, and no floor strewn with biscuit crumbs. Both Brigit and Tom no longer ask for it.

I put the stack of prints aside and drink my tea. I will have to discuss Luc with a colleague if he does not see what causes his behaviour. The Luc we see now, the Luc from the emails, is a scary person, a creep. His mood is as unreliable as the weather.

I suggest that you read all your emails and write down what strikes you.

Would Luc discover that he has a lot in common with Jekyll and Hyde? Tom and Brigit are no longer sitting so close to him. The group increasingly distances itself from each other, observing each other from a distance. Sam who doesn't need to be here, Jane who insists on staying and remains silent for safety reasons, and Tom and Brigit only need each other and have both become less talkative.

You are going to read through this stack and from now on you will no longer be able to use the internet, I decide. I'm sorry Luc, but you can't write these kinds of messages. If this doesn't stop you will get into trouble.

You're right, says Luc. That satanic bitch won't stop, but first God must die. God is the source of all evil. I'm going to kill him first. That will work because I have the right sword for it. The sword of Yoshimitsu it kills Gods. A thrust is like a stake through the heart. It also works for those who have no heart.

Greetings from the 6th floor
18-10-2023