He puts down the pen and runs his fingers through his hair. Appears to be agitated or on edge. As a matter of fact, he is rather eager to get started on something, he has been neglecting for too long.
He gets up from the chair and paces the kitchen floor. At last, he stops and retrieves something from the fridge.
He sits back down by the kitchen table. Places the beers that he fetched from the fridge on the windowsill next to him.
He picks the pen back up from the big old ashtray, which nowadays only gets filled with various table junk. The notebook lies open on the table in front of him.
Three hours ago, your daughter left for school. Her mother packed her lunchbox, and you prepared her porridge, as usual. She took off on foot down to the bus stop on Vegurin Langi. But she never actually reached the bus stop, and she is not in school now. I have her right here. It was not very difficult to take her.
Force and violence.
Think of what you have done.