Glenda

“Well, yes, that’s why I said several times in front of Jack today that you were going to spend the night with me.” The man with ashen hair and blue eyes just grinned. — Go to bed, beauty, you are really tired today.

He left, closing the door behind him. And Glenda was left alone in four square meters with her fears.

Falling asleep was indeed not difficult, but the hardest part began after she was completely immersed in sleep.

The ocean-cold water soaked all my clothes and touched my skin with its entire volume. Or maybe it’s the sea, pressing on her like a tyrant? There is no shore or bottom around, only light barely penetrating into the thickness of the icy despot above her. Ten or twenty meters to the surface, and every moment she sank deeper and deeper into this bottomless space like a black hole. There was no longer any strength to hold my breath and Glenda opened her mouth. Her lungs filled with salty water pressure and… She woke up.

— Father! — burst out of his chest, and an alarmed Iver ran into the room.

— Baby, were you calling someone?

— No, sorry. I had a nightmare. Everything is OK now. — wiping sweat from the back of her neck, said the out of breath Glenda.

— It's clear. I was just about to wake you up. It's time for us to have breakfast and go to the department.

— Wonderful. I need half an hour.

Glenda got into the shower. She did not have any bath accessories with her. Fortunately, Larsen used a good shampoo that was also suitable for women’s hair, the same way her parents washed themselves in order to save on various shower cosmetics, and Glenda was pleased, her hair glowed with a healthy shine, unlike her eyes.

A cloudy, barely noticeable veil, after a terrible night, clouded the pupils so that upon expert examination it looked like the consequences of a week-long binge.

She turned on the light above the mirror and tried to get a better look at her eyes. Approaching the mirror almost to the point of eyelashes, Glenda recoiled all the way to the opposite wall. Worms swam chaotically in her left eye.

Small, no larger than a child's nail stub, white, twisted creatures simply swarmed in the vitreous humor.

Overcoming herself, Glenda once again looked into her pupils. There was no one there anymore, as she thought. Quite angry at her helplessness, but no longer feeling any fear, she decided.

"Enough for me. I'll go to the pharmacy before the police. I need sedatives, and the stronger the better. I'm going crazy."

— Everything is fine? — Iver was waiting for her at the table with mozzarella and croutons.

— Not good.

— I heard a crash in the bathroom, as if you had hit yourself. Are you okay?

— Yes, except for the bruises on the elbows.

— So what happened?

— Damn it, I'm just sick! “Glenda didn’t expect such behavior from herself, but she didn’t have the strength anymore.

— Fine. Stay home, get treatment. — Iver said a little alarmed.

— No way. I need to go to the pharmacy, I'm sure it will get easier.

“Fesipam truly relieved nervous tension, as well as the desire for life, interest in the investigation and Mr. Larsen as well. But I don’t agree to this either. Better a sick mind than a helpless one.”

Glenda opened the bottle and poured all the pills into the toilet.

After three hours, the effect of the medicine should decrease, but for now she will remain in a trance for a while.

Once again seeing a bloody stump instead of a thumb, the girl was not afraid. It was more like apathy. Like a soldier lying on the battlefield in the morning with wounds incompatible with life and shock from which no pain is felt, he simply dies quietly, looking at the sky.

Then she heard a familiar voice in the background.

— Bro, take the forensic report. This is not suicide. We are officially starting to find the killer.

Iver casually threw some papers on the table and walked up to the girl in a purple T-shirt.

— The meeting is over, you can go to Mr. Johanson.

— Yes, let's go.

— You're kind of lethargic.

— Yes, I took Fesipam.

— Oh my God. Are you crazy?

— And if so, then what? You are not my husband or father. I do what I want. — Glenda, usually active and lively, now showed her insolence like an amoeba.

— It's clear. You won't go to the hospital with us like that.

— Well, please, Mr. Larsen. Just don’t forget that it was I who helped you yesterday with the Cowboy.

— I didn’t say that you wouldn’t go at all. Let's just bring you to your senses first. — the man in uniform turned towards the next table. — Irene, please help Miss Miller cope with the poisoning.

A woman in high heels and a business suit led Glenda into a small room, like a utility room. She smelled divine, and her hair hung from her shoulders directly onto the girl who sat in the office chair.

— Are you Mr. Larsen's mistress? — Glenda asked just as sleepily.

— No, miss. I'm his colleague. Sit back, now I will install the system for you.

“Political?” she giggled, but as if someone had done it for her.