Bruno looked up at the sky for an answer, but saw only heavy gray clouds. Where was divine justice? Why did God allow lies to triumph over truth? Gaston watched from the balcony of the mansion with a smile of satisfaction on his lips, wiping his hands as if he had just finished a dirty but necessary job. Bruno was pushed through the heavy iron gates of the prison and the sound of bolts closing behind him sounded like the end of his life.
The tower of oblivion was not a tower, but a deep, damp, dark basement. Bruno’s cell was a windowless cube of cold stone, where the only light came from a distant torch in the corridor that barely flickered. The air was thick, laden with the smell of mojo, filth, and desperation from hundreds of men who had died there before him. The guard, a brutish man, without a trace of compassion, pushed him inside and closed the gate.
“Make yourself comfortable, thief,” he sneered. “This is your grave. No one will remember you in a week.” Bruno was left alone in the dark. The silence was absolute, broken only by the constant dripping of filtered water somewhere. He slumped down on the rotten straw floor, hugging his knees. The cold penetrated his bones, but the cold in his soul was worse. He had lost his job, his reputation, his freedom, and his future in a single day. Anger, helplessness and fear mixed in his chest forming a knot that prevented him from breathing.
She wept silently, hot tears that were rapidly cooling on her dirty cheeks. He felt completely abandoned by man and by God. Weeks passed in absolute darkness. Hunger turned into a constant pain that weakened his body, but the mental battle was worse. In solitude, doubt attacked him. If God existed, He would not allow this. Bruno, on the verge of despair, whispered in a broken voice, “Lord, if you are there, give me a sign. I don’t ask for a miracle, just to know that I’m not alone in this hell.” But the only response was silence and the dripping of water.
One night, as Bruno looked sadly at the small piece of dry bread that was his dinner, he heard a faint noise near his foot. He stood motionless. A pair of small, bright eyes were watching him from a crack in the stone wall. It was a large, gray rat with dirty fur and a bitten ear. Most of the men would have screamed or tried to kill her. The rats were pests, carriers of disease, the only other inhabitants of that cursed place.
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