Darley-city. Originally from Darley

Seventh chapter

Later, after passing through the house, he noticed closed private rooms that open up to those who can afford to get randomly caught, stupid, naive people, for the elect, for dolls. In the first floor, in the living room, on the wall, near the stationery, next to the fireplace hung an introductory map, on which Warner remembered the location of some rooms. In the garden where grasses, bushes, trees, fruits, berries, vegetables grew, poisonous-white walls shattered the whole space, dimming the sunlight, and in the far corner stood a small fountain, on the edges of which for some reason gas and fluorescent lamps were glued . The atmosphere was reminiscent of color photographs taken by Warner's first camera. The darkness of the garden made feelings of detachment, irrevocable completeness, sadness, pity, something unshakable, pressing on the whole human being. Something could have gone a different way, it would be a vivid memory, a happy fragment of reality, if there were holidays last, now there were sickening sensations, as if you were on a normal, cold, hungry, dirty street, making raids with beggars, under the guidance of the illiterate "Chickens" to the dead sources and to the active dump of broken equipment. Someone knew how to become successful, joyful, but well-being would be shock, uncomfortable and scary for an invisible ghost, someone could make you a toy, weak-willed, asking for calm and food, able to cry and work for free. It seemed to be a neutral and unintelligent phenomenon.
He recalled his childhood song "Hey, Dad, I`m sleeping" and coordinated this with reality, as it was in fact so. Singing the verse in the subconscious, Warner took heart, walked out of the dark into the light and saw first the disheveled gray hair on the cook's head, then her fists red from the blood, and only then, a minute later, the boy's head, cut off from the neck, lying on the glass vase, behind the gallery door. Blood was spraying everywhere and everywhere, mud drips accumulated in puddles and frightened away the favorable mood of Mr. Tracker.
- Vincent broke your mug, I usually bank it for guests, since it cost a lot of money in due time, which is beyond my power, because I lost my job early because of scandals in the psychological center, where I worked before inviting this house. Then everything happened extremely quickly, and I did not have time to understand what was happening, and when I was taken here as a cook and a nanny for small children, I gladly clung to this vacancy, it was so great. And when paranoid bursts were discovered, I tried to hide somewhere, just to survive all the emotions. But, as Mr. Ralph Golden and Dr. Jerry Goodyear forced me to take over, very often I could not concentrate on the most simple things, things fell out of my hands, the children did not listen to me, I threw off my experiences on them a lot. From the mansion made crazy. the hospital was called the "Monica Sanatorium" in honor of the real holy sister of mercy, before there was a church parish, a church stood separately, but it was demolished. And now - as you can see, I am one, even though the cook, but the whole economy remains on me ... - the woman spoke in knocked-down phrases, spitting out blood clots and trying to squeeze her fists in her palm, but her stern look, like the Greek Gorgone Medusa from the legend, did unimaginable miracles.
Ronald Warner took out his smartphone, dialed 999 and got through to the Darley division of the DRC, connecting with the dispatcher, he asked to come to Payment Hall, to the “Monica Sanatorium”, home 3444. However, I did not manage to finish the conversation with the operator when the lady knocked out he had a telephone in his hands, crushed him into pieces with hard soles of shoes, and the man himself was struck unconsciously in the throat, in the region of the carotid artery.