Anne moved closer to her. The walls were slimy; the miasma of centuries flowed thickly around them. Even to his acute vision, the cellar was as gloomy as a crypt. You only pretended to love me.
Karl will come back and save me, she thought again and again. Unreal, it looked, flickering a little as if on film; infinitely remote as a cinematic image, yet sinister, overdrawn and underlit in grainy monochrome. Ich kann nicht… kalt, zu kalt… Can you hear me? She pulled at his arm. The words fell into the silence like stones into a dark pool as he left Charlotte and moved towards Pierre.
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