At the cemetery

— It's just a corpse... — The blond young man looked into a bottomless black pit, at the bottom of which lay a bound female body. With these uncertain words, he wanted to convince himself that nothing terrible was happening now, that what had happened should be accepted calmly, but the accordion of cuts on his arms and back reminded her of her sin. — Yep, she's just a corpse! — The second guy patted him on the shoulder and wiped beads of sweat from his forehead like morning dew. Lunar mourning illuminated the blood on his pale cheeks. — Thomas, look at the situation differently. What's past is past. We must move on with our lives. Night. Even the spiders hid, and only the stone angels — the guardians of the cemeteries — mourn the dead. Their sorrowful tears with peals of sympathy wash the cold tombstones of departed souls and souls wandering through the shadow world of the astral plane, souls of the suffering, offended and lonely... — I can't be so heartless! Don't want... — Thomas stated in a trembling voice. He doesn't understand how he should feel in this situation. Maybe some “instinct” should wake up, but it’s too late, and even in captivity he felt nothing but emptiness. Perhaps human egoism should overcome, which will give rise to emotions such as anger or joy that she is dead, but Thomas feels neither the first nor the second. Or maybe morality, sadness and sympathy should take over, ahead of her death: “she is also a person”; but he doesn’t feel that either. Some unknown creature has tentacles wrapped around his heart and does not allow him to recognize his true feelings. — It isn't heartless. This is survival. — The guy slowly began to throw the damp earth onto the girl's corpse. — Or should i remind you of what she did with you in that basement? — His merciless gaze pierced the blackness of the silent night and cut into the very heart of Thomas. An invisible worm sharpened the idea in Thomas's head that his older brother's action was motivated by a desire to protect a dear person. The sleeves of the plaid shirt, folded like an accordion just above the elbows, squeezed the veins, gnawing into the skin like piranhas, and almost merging with it into one single beige color. «My brother only wanted to protect me...», — echoed in his head. — Jordan, thanks and sorry... Sorry you had to do this... Jordan, wielding a shovel, suddenly froze. Blood, cemetery soil and lack of time did not allow them to unite in brotherly embraces. So much has happened... — You better help me bury this bitch as soon as possible. — Jordan answered and continued to briskly throw clods of earth into the abyss of hopelessness and tranquility of death. — Yep... — Thomas set to work, pursing his peeling bloody lips. They threw dirt not so much at the body as at the very fear this psychopath would again kidnap Thomas and abuse him. Having dealt with the corpse, the brothers peered into the twinkling of lifeless starts. They still have time to hide until dawn. Deathly silence tore at their backs at they walked towards the exit without looking back. Death and the girl's ghost, twisted with angers, looked after them. Thomas and Jordan disappeared into the fog of the void. They no honger saw sunlight, breathed full lungs of fresh air, and we're no longer considered alive. The end.