Free Only the Strongest Survive by Ian Fox Page A

moved. It was as if she wore a rubber mask.
    “How are you feeling?”
    Still
nothing. He looked at h er thin, pale
hands lying at her side and for a moment he doubted she was still
alive. Not a finger moved. The only sign of life were her shining
eyes, boring into him.
    He had to
look away because he couldn ’t stand it.
He was beginning to feel embarrassed. There was something in those
eyes. He could sense immense hatred, as if she could kill him with
a look. He sat on her bed and shook her slightly.
    “Emely?”
    She looked
away, barely able to contain the tears that had gathered in her eyes. A fierce pain at the front of her head
had been throbbing since she had woken up. But there was a much
worse pain in her heart. Every time this vital organ pushed the
blood around her veins, she felt a chill in her limbs. Her hairs
stood on end and her every movement was accompanied by pain. She
wanted to die. Her brain was spinning with questions: Why didn’t they leave me in that
grave? Why didn’t they allow my heart to stop forever? She couldn’t believe they would do something
like that.
    “ My God, Emely, are you alright?”
    She looked at
him like a snake would and spit in his
face. “How can you mention God after what you’ve done?”
    It came as
such a surprise that John screamed and jumped off her bed. He
looked at her with astonishment and
reached into his pocket. “Damn it, I knew you were up to
something.”
    Then
he laughed, pulled a wrinkled
handkerchief from his pocket, and wiped off her saliva. He folded
the handkerchief twice and put it back in his pocket. He grabbed
her by the neck. “Listen, you bitch. If it weren’t for me, you’d
have been dead long ago. Which doesn’t mean you won’t
be.”
    “What do you want?” she asked dryly.
    “Let’s do everything in the right order.”
    He let go of
her neck and stroked her face. Then he got up and pulled some
chewing gum out of his pants pocket, put
it in his mouth, and began chewing noisily. He didn’t know where to
begin. “You mentioned two million dollars in a Swiss
account.”
    “Yes, so?”
    “ I hope it
wasn’t just a figment of your imagination. Because if it was ….”
    “I’ve told you. No one knows about it but
me.”
    He nodded in
satisfaction. If it transpired that she didn ’t have the money, he would simply have to get rid of her
again. “And how would you transfer the money to my account? I’m not
so stupid as to think that the police aren’t monitoring
everything.”
    “ I can
arrange the transfer in five minutes over the
phone , with a password that only I know.
It’s not a normal bank account, so don’t worry about the police.
I’ve kept this money for a real emergency, like a war or
something.”
    “Good.”
    He went
and opened the shutters on the windows so
that daylight joined the light cast by the bulb. Then he adjusted
the heavy drapes. Dirty dark patches appeared on the walls that had
not been visible earlier. It was clear that the room had not been
painted for at least twenty years.
    “ You’ll do
that tomorrow. Now I’ll go make you some
dinner.”
    After he
had closed the door and she heard the
lock, she felt relief. Calm and completely without any feelings she
stared at the yellowed wall. She felt no fear, only hatred. She
could not care less about that money; she just wanted to live. She
wanted revenge.
    Then she
remembered when they had buried her. After she had regained consciousness in the coffin and
became aware of where she was, she had begun banging on the wood
that was constraining her. In the hope of opening the coffin she
pushed against it with her legs. She tried with all the energy she
had, but nothing gave. Just a
bit more, she told herself, I’ll get it.
    She continued
to bang and push. The air was getting thinner and thinner. She was
breathing fast and was barely able to give her lungs the oxygen they needed. She knew she had no more
than a few minutes left. A bit
more and I’ll