Larry is drunk. He can hardly stand on his feet, leaning against the wall, and angrily throws at me:

- What did you do to me?

His tongue is tangled and his body is shaking. I wince, sensing a sharp intoxicating smell. I myself can hardly restrain myself either: I am overcome by a wild weakness - I still have not yet recovered from my stay in the dungeons of the inquisitors. I don't want to answer the man. His drunken, clouded mind only disgusts me. Defiantly silent, but he grabs me by the breasts, forcing me to look directly into his blurred evil eyes.

Why can't I be with...