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- Джон Фоулз
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Power
.
It
’
s
become
so
real
.
I
know
the
H
-
bomb
is
wrong
.
But
being
so
weak
seems
wrong
now
too
.
I
wish
I
knew
judo
.
Could
make
him
cry
for
mercy
.
This
crypt
-
room
is
so
stuffy
,
the
walls
squeeze
in
,
I
’
m
listening
for
him
as
I
write
,
the
thoughts
I
have
are
like
bad
drawings
.
Must
be
torn
up
at
once
.
Try
try
try
to
escape
.
It
’
s
all
I
think
of
.
A
strange
thing
.
He
fascinates
me
.
I
feel
the
deepest
contempt
and
loathing
for
him
,
I
can
’
t
stand
this
room
,
everybody
will
be
wild
with
worry
.
I
can
sense
their
wild
worry
.
How
can
he
love
me
?
How
can
you
love
someone
you
don
’
t
know
?
He
wants
desperately
to
please
me
.
But
that
’
s
what
madmen
must
be
like
.
They
aren
’
t
deliberately
mad
,
they
must
be
as
shocked
in
a
way
as
everyone
else
when
they
finally
do
something
terrible
.
It
’
s
only
this
last
day
or
two
I
could
speak
about
him
so
.
