I knew this was not to be my fate。 He brought the inkpot down onto my
head once again。 I was in such a state of profound torment that I could only
vaguely discern the impact。 He； the inkpot and the room illuminated faintly by
the candle had already begun to fade。
Yet； I was still alive。 My desire to cling to this world； to run away and escape
him； the flailing of my hands and arms in an attempt to protect my face and
bloody head； the way； I believe； I bit his wrist at one time； and the inkpot
striking my face made me aware of this。
We struggled for a while； if you can call it that。 He was very strong and very
agitated。 He laid me out flat on my back。 Pressing his knees onto my
shoulders； he practically nailed me to the ground while he raved on in a very
disrespectful tone； accosting me； a dying old man。 Perhaps because I could
neither understand nor listen to him； perhaps because I took no pleasure in
looking into his bloodshot eyes； he struck my head once more。 His face and his
entire body had bee bright red from the ink splattering out of the inkpot；
and I suppose； from the blood splattering out of me。
Saddened that the last thing I’d ever see in this world was this man who
would be my enemy； I closed my eyes。 Thereupon； I saw a soft； gentle light。 The
light was as sweet and enticing as the sleep I thought w