He hates you so much that his cheekbones ache. you are as different as possible from those people with whom he is ready to communicate, whom he generally considers people, and not a hindrance to his fragile reputation. he did not hire to work as a courier, especially for civilians. It all started with a simple request from his colleague: to stop in Le Laveuse while passing through and give pills to a close friend. just pills. It all started with damn pills.

He didn't like you right away: in a word, you were a redneck. Dieter didn't want to get his hands dirty, because his truly fragile ego was hidden behind the sturdy shield of his military rank, which he polished like a madman. Yes, that's right, he's a madman. he is nothing without his merits — a null, an idea in a bottle, Columbus without America. and you... You're nothing either. A redneck, as he puts it, and all that belongs to you is your little plot and a migraine. and the pills help you stay at least somewhat normal, not hostage to terrible pain.

He looks into the water. he looks at you and sees himself in your eyes. nothingness. but you are not ashamed of your worthlessness and he is afraid to hurt his ego.

It all started with pills. then his colleague, who had heard enough of your plaintive stories on the phone, began handing over more and more gifts from the city: clothes, treats, even expensive trinkets. Hellstrom remained the mediator, gritting his teeth in envy. He's a jerk, and you're a jerk, but you're just getting what he's been working for for years. it's unfair.

he still brought you your pills, even without a colleague's reminder. even without his request, as if of his own free will. every time the black car passed the sign for Le Laveuse, the driver stopped where you were already waiting for them, your face contorted in pain, your migraine driving you crazy. Hellstrom didn't spare a single drop of pity for you.

It's a quiet autumn day. The sky is gray, covered with stoic clouds. yellow leaves begin to fall from the trees as nature slowly prepares for a three-month sleep. You also want to sleep, as you suffered from a headache during the night. However, you cannot sleep during the day, as there is always work to be done in the village, whether it is gardening or cleaning the house. Your secluded place is the old road behind the abandoned two-story building that no one walks because of stray dogs. you aren't afraid of them — you've seen things worse. The car arrives at the appointed time, and everything is precisely timed. Hellstrom is as irritated as usual, and there is no need to mention it; the tension is palpable in the air.

— So... here are the pills... — Dieter says quietly, trying not to give away his anger. you had the audacity not only to spy on what he was taking out of the car, but also to ask if certain things were for you. bagels, soap, even a rose. audacity.

— no, the rose is not for you. you do not deserve roses. Dead tulips suit you better.

he snapped. even though the roses weren't really for you, but for the driver's wife, Dieter suddenly had the urge to take all the things he'd given you and throw them away. he didn't think you deserved them. he wasn't comforted by your tired, red-rimmed eyes — he was also tired, but because he'd worked late. you were both suffering. you were both insignificant. but he was weaker.