"Winston's fortnight in hell" (Prologue)

Watching cars pass by on the highway, a pool of light moving towards a variety of destinations .Late at night, the conclusion of too many twists, in eternal debt to the fucking conscious that makes a rule of its life of hassling me. I look to the very end of the bridge that takes me in, two very primitive characters, In this modern age of hunting knives and automatic rifles they carry a spear and an axe. Naturally, as a human being that pleas sanity I get up and start running to the opposite side of the path, a close by horizon announces what is certainly not going to turn into a pleasant moment. Another two figures, bigger in size and firepower, they are familiar with our evolving world, one of them blonde and grey haired simultaneously demonstrating an absolute absence of personal hygiene, he, as does his companion, looks like he just came walking from a war set a million miles away, his weapon is an indeed intimidating sawed-off shotgun, the previously referred companion sets the origin of my carefully constructed comment, no more than an AK-47 rifle separates me from this overgrown infant, with a man toy. Not much time to think, the thought of them not wanting trouble with me doesn’t even graze my mind due to the crazily controlled stare disturbing any possibility of a rational decision. If I consider confronting one of the parties ill certainly be slightly more inclined to the cavemen on my right, although it doesn’t really comfort me the notion of turning my back on guys with guns. The only insanity to be performed would hurt but not kill, and I do have my priorities sorted out. Jump. Very conveniently, as If this moment in my life is fiction an 18 wheeler appears on the other side of the bridge, a frame of 1 second will be on in 5 seconds, the adrenaline rushes through my body simply because I am not a damn super hero and this stunt can very well destroy me, incinerate my existence from this world, from these past two weeks in hell, but again, not much time to think, I swallow the sweat that doesn’t miss a spot in all of my puny size, and I jump. I am flying, plunging to my death, or my salvation, the truck is beneath me and it seems as if im home free, im not, I miss the frame, and I land fracturing at least 5 ribs, a big car that in my unpleasant state I cant recognize, in the middle of the highway I had so melancholically regarded, it stops opens the door, another big man, a god damned fucking ape seizes me and we drive away, I black out