Post by The Anarchist on Sept 2, 2018 10:28:37 GMT -5
“When I was growing up my mom would take me to church. We would sit right in the front so that God could supervise against sin, as she liked to put it. When we got home, I wasn’t allowed to do the things other children could do. While they were out having fun, I was quizzed about the morning sermon to see if I was paying attention, or if Satan was in my soul, leading me astray from the holy word. If I got a question wrong I would be PUNISHED.
She told me it wasn’t out of anger, but love. Unconditional love from GOD to keep me from eternal damnation.”
Seromine flashes a quick smile about the memory. In his hand is the mask he slipped off of Mr. PURE following the beating Gabriel and Holden Ross gave him at Trauma. He runs his thumbs along the black mesh of the face, while glancing at the gold fabric of the head. He had removed it from his own head before speaking to the costume prop about his mother.
Seromine tosses the mask in the garbage. The sounds of Gabriel slamming a steel chair over and over and over was reward enough. The supervised sight of seeing him in pain. Lying there after declining to repent. A victim of teaming with Kyle Shane. He, too, would fall by order shortly after. Seromine offered Kyle a chance to repent his own wicked ways in the past. He held out hope that somehow, someway, he could see past his blinding anger for the gospel and accept GOD into his heart.
Seromine scoffs. “Sinner. That’s what he is. That’s what they all are.”
“Is everything ok, son?”
Seromine snaps into reality. “What? Oh, yeah. I’m fine mom.”
Seromine convinced himself after he imitates her voice. One look in the mirror showed the reflection of a misunderstood savior. Hair so long that it was reaching well past his shoulders. A bushy beard that was starting to grow layers as it expands outward. The scars of time etched in his features from the years spent inside of the squared circle. The punishing toll such an undertaking has.
The sign of the cross is traced on the glass before departure. “Amen.”
Seromine heads into the kitchen to get a glass of water. Sitting at the table is one of his offspring. He smiles.
“Are you ok, dad?” asks Autumn.
“Of course I am. Why do you ask?”
“Because you’re pouring water on yourself...”
“Just washing the sins away, sweetheart.”
Droplets of water go down his hair like it were a slide. His shirt would absorb most of the spill. Seromine gets himself another glass of water. This time he drinks it, but his eyes never go off of his inquisitive daughter.
Autumn furls her brow. “O—kay.”
Seromine returns the same smile from before. “I have to go to the groves tonight. Kristen will watch you.”
Autumn doesn’t get a chance to reply to that. Her mouth opens, but Destiny speaks. “No you don’t, Jason. Leave it be.”
“Can’t. I have to give my sermon. They depend on me to lead them. You know this.”
Destiny looks towards Autumn. “Would you mind stepping out of the room? I’d like to have a word with your father.”
“Well, I would like to, but...” Autumn stretches her limbs out “I treasure these moments with you guys. They could shape my formative teen years. You had such a profound impact on Kristen, that it’s important I receive the same love and care she did at my age.”
“She made it past your age.”
Autumn closes her eyes and nods with acceptance to the implied meaning. “I think I hear the TV calling my name.” She promptly excuses herself from the situation.
“I think I hear one of those public access preachers calling mine. We’ll talk later, hun.”
Seromine struts right into a left arm barring him from going any further. “Or now. Now is good.”
Seromine slides out one of the wooden chairs from the table and sits down. Destiny does the same directly across from him, looking fifty shades of unamused.
“When will it be enough?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Labyrinth Grove. You know what happened last time.”
Seromine sighs. “Am I supposed to forget about the place? What it means to me? What it means to us?”
“Yes! Jason, there is nothing there for us. The time has come to let it go. Let it rot. Let it die. Our life is right here. This isn’t a wrestling show. This---”
He interrupts. “I’m not letting that tattered sack of literature get the better of me. You may not see purpose there, but I do. I see plenty of it. I see a place where the followers need me. GOD’S CHILDREN, Destiny!”
“Do they mean more than your own?”
Seromine’s demeanor changes off that lone question. “How can you ask that? You know that the girls mean everything to me.”
“Then why are you forgetting about them?”
Seromine pauses. He goes into silent prayer over it. The effect must have worked because Destiny apologizes for her insinuation.
“Why are you wet?”
“Kitchen baptism. Listen—I---we have to go the groves, tonight. The followers are going to be there. They are coming home!” A burst of elation. “They need me. They’ve always needed me. I want you to be there to share in the glory! His unadulterated, sinless glory!! You used to enjoy that time.”
“I also have enough attachment to reality to keep my personal life and my professional life separate. Jason...this whole cult experience is fantasy. Do you know the irreparable harm that comes from groups like that?”
“So is that a no?”
Now it was Destiny’s turn to pause. Her eyes locked with his in some sort of stare down of the soul. Seromine reaches across the table with a pleading expression as he cups her hands. With the forefinger on his right hand, he caresses her wedding ring. A symbol of their love and unity. Destiny turns her hands over so that his can be held.
“OW!”
Her nails were intentionally being dug in. “I’ll go. But this will be the last time. Ok?”
Seromine nods while wincing. “Sure. But could you get those talons out of my skin, please?”
The drive to Labyrinth Grove was a more cordial affair. Destiny sung note for note with some crappy song her husband didn’t know, breaking only for passing conversation. While she could carry a tune, when you have to hear every song get the same treatment, it becomes as grating as “Are we there yet?” Dusk fell upon them as they turned the final bend on the main trail that opens to where the main house and barn were. Video killed the radio star and parking killed the spouse’s singing. Seromine admired the reds and oranges of the sky. There was also patches of purple in the colorful display. It was a gorgeous cover over the tall rows of orange trees that were the main feature of the property.
“I love this place.” Seromine proclaims while sliding black ribbon through the collar of his shirt for a soon to be knot. “It has such great memories.”
“The only good thing to ever come of here was us meeting.”
Seromine takes his wife’s left hand and bows his head. “O God, who is here — in this place, now — in our midst; Empower us to praise You, not with words and actions which come from outside of us, but from within us; Dwell in us more fully that we may sing to You with all our being; Fill us with a sense of Your joy, that we might actually delight in Your worship; Focus us upon Your self-giving Love, which is above every love we have ever known, the source of all.
O God, who is here — in this place, now — in our midst; Make Your love real here and now, Praise Seromine, Praise the Lord, Amen.”
Destiny jerks her hand away and gets out of the car in a huff. Seromine calmly does the same following a retrieval of his hat. Once he places it on his head, he saunters less than one-hundred feet to the barn, or as he calls it, The Church of New Beginnings. Like the gentleman he is, Seromine pulls back one of the large barn doors and steps aside to let his wife enter first. She steps inside, he follows behind and...
“BROTHERS AND SIST...ERS...”
is halted dead in his tracks. The twelve chairs (in four rows of three) are empty. The windows are still broken out. The fragments of glass which had been there prior are no longer scattered and have since been collected. At the pulpit is the tormenting scarecrow only known by the previously stitched number in the burlap raven mask. The roman numerals X-I-I-I. The lowered brow with piercing black eyes. The stitched together hair of glossy raven feathers. The tattered remains of black clothing.
It was there where Seromine should be. It was there as a taunting reminder of SATAN! Spray painted on the wall of the barn was the mocking NEVERMORE in large white lettering. Destiny’s unease could be felt as she remains pressed against her husband’s body. Seromine calmly steps around with his focus never leaving the antagonist. “I knew you were the vandal. SATAN has many disguises, you sacrilegious demon! You will NOT come into this place of worship and DEFILE the work of GOD! I AM SEROMINE! I am HIS...” Seromine raises his arms to the sky “...CHOSEN PROPHET! I AM THE LORD AND SAVIOR and you WILL repent before me!”
Destiny watches in disbelief as he marches down to the pulpit. Seromine aggressively rips the burlap mask off.
It’s a mannequin. Seromine rips apart the tattered clothing, exposing stuffed pages of Edgar Allan Poe. He tears them into as many pieces as his over the top reaction will allow. Seromine rips the lifeless dummy into the air, throwing it head first into the earth. “REPENT YOUR SINS!” He begins to dismantle the limbs “ONLY I CAN SAVE YOU! JUST AS I HAVE SAVED THEM!” Seromine takes the now broken mold and chucks it out of one of the broken windows. This continues until every last trace is no longer in the makeshift church. He storms out of the back door and doesn’t return for nearly twenty minutes.
The sky had turned dark. A waning moon shines bright with a blanket of twinkling stars and wispy clouds. Destiny is beside herself on one of the chairs. Upset by what she just saw and heard, she’s left wondering what to do next. Seromine returns in a much peaceful state of mind. He clasps his hands together as the pulpit is approached. Destiny looks up to see him passing her. “Brothers and Sisters!” He addresses his absent congregation. “We must forgive our enemies for their transgressions and trespasses. We cannot allow hate to fester in our souls, corroding the essence of GOD. Those who seek to harm us and our way of life were born to a life of sin and sin is what will kill them. Still, GOD loves them and so do I. There is still hope for the likes of Kyle Shane! There is still hope for the likes of Justin Michaels! There is still hope for the likes of Phinehas Grimm!”
Seromine pauses to extend his arms like he’s offering a hug. “Romans 5:2. Through him we have also obtained access by faith into this grace in which we stand, and we rejoice in hope of the glory of GOD. Forked tongues were heard loud and clear this last show. How they arrive to the conclusions they do, the false pretenses in which they try to distract MY faithful with, escapes rational thought. How nice it was for the World Champion to say I’ve gone up against the ‘slackest, easiest competition’ I can since January, considering I faced him in that very month and have faced his partners more than once this year. Not only that, but some of the very people he insulted, are names he’s faced at some point himself!”
Seromine grips the wooden lectern with his head lowered. “Justin Michaels has this fanciful idea, this distorted desire of driving me back to SIN! Only he spells it A-N-A-R-C-H-Y!” Seromine is so beside himself that he asks for forgiveness in spelling out that filthy word. Destiny has heard and seen enough of this.
“Here’s a word he should be more than familiar with. F-A-I-L-U-R-E.”
He slowly lifts his head with a grin on his face.
“Phinehas is coming for the North American title. The very same Hangtown Voyeur who despises my tactics. Well, Phinehas, my tactics are the orders of GOD. I would suggest getting right with him before Trauma arrives and I introduce you to some.”
“JASON!”
Seromine moves around the lectern to Destiny, gently leading her back to her seat. She offers resistance but is given a look to let her know he has control of everything. Her face reddens with simmering anger, an expressive arrow shot against his back as he returns to where he was. Turning around, he’s presented with the same twelve empty seats that greeted him at the start.
Undeterred, he continues. “What I’m getting at, is they are a trio of dysfunction. Gabriel, Tyler Scott and Myself will feast on their folly in a united front of SALVATION!”
The large barn doors fly wide open. The shimmering light of the moon cascades on the silhouette of the ominous scarecrow. The features of its mask staring a hole from a distance. Seromine tenses up. He taps his fingers against the lectern. “Ephesians 6:11. Put on the whole armor of God, that you may be able to stand against the schemes of the devil.” No sooner does he finish, does the noisy cawing come from arriving ravens to the spaces missing windows. XIII sits down on the middle chair in the fourth row. “Who do you think you are?” It remains motionless. “Are you deaf? I asked you a question.”
Silence.
“Are you my enemy?”
Silence.
“Are you my friend?”
Silence. “How did you get here? Why did you decide to interrupt my sermon for a SECOND time? WHO ARE YOU?!”
There is no acknowledgement of the questions. That is...until XIII shakes his head just a slight twitch. The scarecrow goes to walk out, but Seromine follows him out into the creepy property. “WHERE ARE MY FOLLOWERS?!” Seromine is quickly turned around by the flapping of wings, the collective symphony of large, taunting birds. They fly away after Seromine begins throwing oranges at them.
“What are you throwing oranges at?”
The question comes from a puzzled Destiny. “What the---did you not hear them? Did you not see them? That damn scarecrow was here! Ravens were here all around the barn!!”
Destiny throws her hands in the air. “I made a mistake. I made a fucking mistake being here! You’ve lost your mind!”
Seromine follows her to the car. “What the hell are you talking about? He WAS HERE!” The frantic finger pointing and gesturing towards the barn falls on unsympathetic ears.
“The only person that’s here is YOU! I’m leaving and going back home. You can call me to come get you when you’ve snapped back into reality!”
“It was you...it all makes sense now.” he narrows his eyes “You left the sermon to go dress like that damn scarecrow, just to drive your point home that you don’t want me coming to this place any longer!!”
The look of outright disbelief leads to a slap right across his face. Seromine will be feeling that one in the morning. It was so loud even the trees cringed. Destiny quickly jumps into the driver’s seat and starts the car. Seromine tries to get inside, but she locks the doors. He frantically pounds on the glass, making delusional accusations once more, but he has lost the battle. He watches her drive off until she’s fully out of sight.
She told me it wasn’t out of anger, but love. Unconditional love from GOD to keep me from eternal damnation.”
Seromine flashes a quick smile about the memory. In his hand is the mask he slipped off of Mr. PURE following the beating Gabriel and Holden Ross gave him at Trauma. He runs his thumbs along the black mesh of the face, while glancing at the gold fabric of the head. He had removed it from his own head before speaking to the costume prop about his mother.
Seromine tosses the mask in the garbage. The sounds of Gabriel slamming a steel chair over and over and over was reward enough. The supervised sight of seeing him in pain. Lying there after declining to repent. A victim of teaming with Kyle Shane. He, too, would fall by order shortly after. Seromine offered Kyle a chance to repent his own wicked ways in the past. He held out hope that somehow, someway, he could see past his blinding anger for the gospel and accept GOD into his heart.
Seromine scoffs. “Sinner. That’s what he is. That’s what they all are.”
“Is everything ok, son?”
Seromine snaps into reality. “What? Oh, yeah. I’m fine mom.”
Seromine convinced himself after he imitates her voice. One look in the mirror showed the reflection of a misunderstood savior. Hair so long that it was reaching well past his shoulders. A bushy beard that was starting to grow layers as it expands outward. The scars of time etched in his features from the years spent inside of the squared circle. The punishing toll such an undertaking has.
The sign of the cross is traced on the glass before departure. “Amen.”
Seromine heads into the kitchen to get a glass of water. Sitting at the table is one of his offspring. He smiles.
“Are you ok, dad?” asks Autumn.
“Of course I am. Why do you ask?”
“Because you’re pouring water on yourself...”
“Just washing the sins away, sweetheart.”
Droplets of water go down his hair like it were a slide. His shirt would absorb most of the spill. Seromine gets himself another glass of water. This time he drinks it, but his eyes never go off of his inquisitive daughter.
Autumn furls her brow. “O—kay.”
Seromine returns the same smile from before. “I have to go to the groves tonight. Kristen will watch you.”
Autumn doesn’t get a chance to reply to that. Her mouth opens, but Destiny speaks. “No you don’t, Jason. Leave it be.”
“Can’t. I have to give my sermon. They depend on me to lead them. You know this.”
Destiny looks towards Autumn. “Would you mind stepping out of the room? I’d like to have a word with your father.”
“Well, I would like to, but...” Autumn stretches her limbs out “I treasure these moments with you guys. They could shape my formative teen years. You had such a profound impact on Kristen, that it’s important I receive the same love and care she did at my age.”
“She made it past your age.”
Autumn closes her eyes and nods with acceptance to the implied meaning. “I think I hear the TV calling my name.” She promptly excuses herself from the situation.
“I think I hear one of those public access preachers calling mine. We’ll talk later, hun.”
Seromine struts right into a left arm barring him from going any further. “Or now. Now is good.”
Seromine slides out one of the wooden chairs from the table and sits down. Destiny does the same directly across from him, looking fifty shades of unamused.
“When will it be enough?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Labyrinth Grove. You know what happened last time.”
Seromine sighs. “Am I supposed to forget about the place? What it means to me? What it means to us?”
“Yes! Jason, there is nothing there for us. The time has come to let it go. Let it rot. Let it die. Our life is right here. This isn’t a wrestling show. This---”
He interrupts. “I’m not letting that tattered sack of literature get the better of me. You may not see purpose there, but I do. I see plenty of it. I see a place where the followers need me. GOD’S CHILDREN, Destiny!”
“Do they mean more than your own?”
Seromine’s demeanor changes off that lone question. “How can you ask that? You know that the girls mean everything to me.”
“Then why are you forgetting about them?”
Seromine pauses. He goes into silent prayer over it. The effect must have worked because Destiny apologizes for her insinuation.
“Why are you wet?”
“Kitchen baptism. Listen—I---we have to go the groves, tonight. The followers are going to be there. They are coming home!” A burst of elation. “They need me. They’ve always needed me. I want you to be there to share in the glory! His unadulterated, sinless glory!! You used to enjoy that time.”
“I also have enough attachment to reality to keep my personal life and my professional life separate. Jason...this whole cult experience is fantasy. Do you know the irreparable harm that comes from groups like that?”
“So is that a no?”
Now it was Destiny’s turn to pause. Her eyes locked with his in some sort of stare down of the soul. Seromine reaches across the table with a pleading expression as he cups her hands. With the forefinger on his right hand, he caresses her wedding ring. A symbol of their love and unity. Destiny turns her hands over so that his can be held.
“OW!”
Her nails were intentionally being dug in. “I’ll go. But this will be the last time. Ok?”
Seromine nods while wincing. “Sure. But could you get those talons out of my skin, please?”
The drive to Labyrinth Grove was a more cordial affair. Destiny sung note for note with some crappy song her husband didn’t know, breaking only for passing conversation. While she could carry a tune, when you have to hear every song get the same treatment, it becomes as grating as “Are we there yet?” Dusk fell upon them as they turned the final bend on the main trail that opens to where the main house and barn were. Video killed the radio star and parking killed the spouse’s singing. Seromine admired the reds and oranges of the sky. There was also patches of purple in the colorful display. It was a gorgeous cover over the tall rows of orange trees that were the main feature of the property.
“I love this place.” Seromine proclaims while sliding black ribbon through the collar of his shirt for a soon to be knot. “It has such great memories.”
“The only good thing to ever come of here was us meeting.”
Seromine takes his wife’s left hand and bows his head. “O God, who is here — in this place, now — in our midst; Empower us to praise You, not with words and actions which come from outside of us, but from within us; Dwell in us more fully that we may sing to You with all our being; Fill us with a sense of Your joy, that we might actually delight in Your worship; Focus us upon Your self-giving Love, which is above every love we have ever known, the source of all.
O God, who is here — in this place, now — in our midst; Make Your love real here and now, Praise Seromine, Praise the Lord, Amen.”
Destiny jerks her hand away and gets out of the car in a huff. Seromine calmly does the same following a retrieval of his hat. Once he places it on his head, he saunters less than one-hundred feet to the barn, or as he calls it, The Church of New Beginnings. Like the gentleman he is, Seromine pulls back one of the large barn doors and steps aside to let his wife enter first. She steps inside, he follows behind and...
“BROTHERS AND SIST...ERS...”
is halted dead in his tracks. The twelve chairs (in four rows of three) are empty. The windows are still broken out. The fragments of glass which had been there prior are no longer scattered and have since been collected. At the pulpit is the tormenting scarecrow only known by the previously stitched number in the burlap raven mask. The roman numerals X-I-I-I. The lowered brow with piercing black eyes. The stitched together hair of glossy raven feathers. The tattered remains of black clothing.
It was there where Seromine should be. It was there as a taunting reminder of SATAN! Spray painted on the wall of the barn was the mocking NEVERMORE in large white lettering. Destiny’s unease could be felt as she remains pressed against her husband’s body. Seromine calmly steps around with his focus never leaving the antagonist. “I knew you were the vandal. SATAN has many disguises, you sacrilegious demon! You will NOT come into this place of worship and DEFILE the work of GOD! I AM SEROMINE! I am HIS...” Seromine raises his arms to the sky “...CHOSEN PROPHET! I AM THE LORD AND SAVIOR and you WILL repent before me!”
Destiny watches in disbelief as he marches down to the pulpit. Seromine aggressively rips the burlap mask off.
It’s a mannequin. Seromine rips apart the tattered clothing, exposing stuffed pages of Edgar Allan Poe. He tears them into as many pieces as his over the top reaction will allow. Seromine rips the lifeless dummy into the air, throwing it head first into the earth. “REPENT YOUR SINS!” He begins to dismantle the limbs “ONLY I CAN SAVE YOU! JUST AS I HAVE SAVED THEM!” Seromine takes the now broken mold and chucks it out of one of the broken windows. This continues until every last trace is no longer in the makeshift church. He storms out of the back door and doesn’t return for nearly twenty minutes.
The sky had turned dark. A waning moon shines bright with a blanket of twinkling stars and wispy clouds. Destiny is beside herself on one of the chairs. Upset by what she just saw and heard, she’s left wondering what to do next. Seromine returns in a much peaceful state of mind. He clasps his hands together as the pulpit is approached. Destiny looks up to see him passing her. “Brothers and Sisters!” He addresses his absent congregation. “We must forgive our enemies for their transgressions and trespasses. We cannot allow hate to fester in our souls, corroding the essence of GOD. Those who seek to harm us and our way of life were born to a life of sin and sin is what will kill them. Still, GOD loves them and so do I. There is still hope for the likes of Kyle Shane! There is still hope for the likes of Justin Michaels! There is still hope for the likes of Phinehas Grimm!”
Seromine pauses to extend his arms like he’s offering a hug. “Romans 5:2. Through him we have also obtained access by faith into this grace in which we stand, and we rejoice in hope of the glory of GOD. Forked tongues were heard loud and clear this last show. How they arrive to the conclusions they do, the false pretenses in which they try to distract MY faithful with, escapes rational thought. How nice it was for the World Champion to say I’ve gone up against the ‘slackest, easiest competition’ I can since January, considering I faced him in that very month and have faced his partners more than once this year. Not only that, but some of the very people he insulted, are names he’s faced at some point himself!”
Seromine grips the wooden lectern with his head lowered. “Justin Michaels has this fanciful idea, this distorted desire of driving me back to SIN! Only he spells it A-N-A-R-C-H-Y!” Seromine is so beside himself that he asks for forgiveness in spelling out that filthy word. Destiny has heard and seen enough of this.
“Here’s a word he should be more than familiar with. F-A-I-L-U-R-E.”
He slowly lifts his head with a grin on his face.
“Phinehas is coming for the North American title. The very same Hangtown Voyeur who despises my tactics. Well, Phinehas, my tactics are the orders of GOD. I would suggest getting right with him before Trauma arrives and I introduce you to some.”
“JASON!”
Seromine moves around the lectern to Destiny, gently leading her back to her seat. She offers resistance but is given a look to let her know he has control of everything. Her face reddens with simmering anger, an expressive arrow shot against his back as he returns to where he was. Turning around, he’s presented with the same twelve empty seats that greeted him at the start.
Undeterred, he continues. “What I’m getting at, is they are a trio of dysfunction. Gabriel, Tyler Scott and Myself will feast on their folly in a united front of SALVATION!”
The large barn doors fly wide open. The shimmering light of the moon cascades on the silhouette of the ominous scarecrow. The features of its mask staring a hole from a distance. Seromine tenses up. He taps his fingers against the lectern. “Ephesians 6:11. Put on the whole armor of God, that you may be able to stand against the schemes of the devil.” No sooner does he finish, does the noisy cawing come from arriving ravens to the spaces missing windows. XIII sits down on the middle chair in the fourth row. “Who do you think you are?” It remains motionless. “Are you deaf? I asked you a question.”
Silence.
“Are you my enemy?”
Silence.
“Are you my friend?”
Silence. “How did you get here? Why did you decide to interrupt my sermon for a SECOND time? WHO ARE YOU?!”
There is no acknowledgement of the questions. That is...until XIII shakes his head just a slight twitch. The scarecrow goes to walk out, but Seromine follows him out into the creepy property. “WHERE ARE MY FOLLOWERS?!” Seromine is quickly turned around by the flapping of wings, the collective symphony of large, taunting birds. They fly away after Seromine begins throwing oranges at them.
“What are you throwing oranges at?”
The question comes from a puzzled Destiny. “What the---did you not hear them? Did you not see them? That damn scarecrow was here! Ravens were here all around the barn!!”
Destiny throws her hands in the air. “I made a mistake. I made a fucking mistake being here! You’ve lost your mind!”
Seromine follows her to the car. “What the hell are you talking about? He WAS HERE!” The frantic finger pointing and gesturing towards the barn falls on unsympathetic ears.
“The only person that’s here is YOU! I’m leaving and going back home. You can call me to come get you when you’ve snapped back into reality!”
“It was you...it all makes sense now.” he narrows his eyes “You left the sermon to go dress like that damn scarecrow, just to drive your point home that you don’t want me coming to this place any longer!!”
The look of outright disbelief leads to a slap right across his face. Seromine will be feeling that one in the morning. It was so loud even the trees cringed. Destiny quickly jumps into the driver’s seat and starts the car. Seromine tries to get inside, but she locks the doors. He frantically pounds on the glass, making delusional accusations once more, but he has lost the battle. He watches her drive off until she’s fully out of sight.