Chapter 28.
Ugly thing to wake up him in blow. Angel was really badly still.
Drug, alcohol, sex. But not the sex liberatorio and dominant: that from failures, that he/she forces the pupils to burn against a power on screen in the heart of a dark cameretta.
That that had wakened up him/it had been the light of the morning. Morning soon, for his/her habits. But to the fragile sleep induced by the self-destruction few all it took is jumping. Above all if the pallet were the uncomfortable chair the desk.
If he/she remembered well still her the great lines of the run of depravation. It had some difficulties on the details, above all those of the deepest night.
He/she didn't for example remember, when you/he/she had extinguished the pc.
And the cotton cover. Turned up I set him, as if you/he/she was given to give him the good night the good fatina of the cazzo. The head bursted him, if it felt her/it scattered for the whole room as that of a sodato ball of lard in a latrine of barracks.
It felt the fragments liquefy himself/herself/themselves and to flow along the walls, seemed almost an open faucet.
You strove to feel better: it was really an open faucet.
There was water that flowed, it came from the kitchen.
If the era forgotten?
It had to get up to provide. If it were tracimato? Chissenefrega, will think it. I will call then the army.
Water flowed. It is dish they tinkled. How beautiful, mother is working for us. What did you/they bluster to make dishes and glasses? The last shred of lucidity was not able anything else other than to suggest him the only answer logic: there was someone in the house.
You/he/she would have had to get scared himself/herself/themselves. Instead he made indignant. Rather, him proper incazzò.
If you/he/she had seen who waited for to find, you/he/she would have had to throw out her of house staggering. More complicated operation, therefore, but above all more humiliating.
It tried to get up, and being everything been standing definite to face the intruder: it leaned out on the kitchen and it sues to wash the whole dish it found Helen.
Anything else other than daylight, anything else other than light sleep: the washing of the dishes by hand, to a civil report schedule. Flat, besides, whose accumulation plurigiornaliero would not even have had to concern her/it. Whoever thought that only his wives could arrive to so much it is a fottuto unique child.
It tried to straighten himself/herself/themselves and to become himself/herself/themselves threatening.
«Thing you do here?»
It didn't have winces not a fear. It didn't even turn him his/her sister.
«I am washing you the dishes.»
The time was absurd the idiotic answer. Didn't Angel deserve other indeed?
«This I see him/it. But because you are here?»
Helen, and it supported the dish in the sink.
«Also taming him/it to me me. For the dirty show that you have made me find, then...»
«It was enough I remained to your house» it minimized superb.
Then Helen turned him. It had been being for the night before the face didn't see her: then you/he/she was wound of unreal luminescences, perhaps it was unreal also it. But identical to that it was also this, marked by fond reproach, that brusquely brought him/it to the awakening.
«I would be liked to remain to my house.» It underlined the concept, so that it was the sense well clear of it. «You are you that you have forced me to go out of it.»
Known history, by now, the stimulus to that sense of guilt far. But from the night you/he/she could not work anymore before. The budget of the responsibilities was changed by now.
«Now you overestimate me. You are gone out, you have done him/it so that not to make to take some worth of it. To escape from my frying pan, is ended in the fire.»
The image of the frying pan perhaps remembered to be still in his/her house and definite to draw near to the table and to take a seat.
«I have to prepare you the breakfast?» it interpreted so Helen.
He had been being almost without food for two days, you/he/she would perhaps have had to consent. But its stomach refused only also to feel speak of it.
«Make only me a coffee» the granted ones.
In the silence that followed, Angel observed the movements of Helen. Nothing could make her/it graceless: neither anger, neither disappointment, neither ignorance, neither fear.
Helen ignored the fear, he/she thought. It ignored the fear fottuta that Angel that morning it had for her first time. And it had more than a motive of it.
It was afraid of a moral judgment, on which was felt always superior. It was afraid of the dependence, from which it feared you/he/she would not have escaped anymore.
Above all it was afraid of what, she had been the night before. It trembled to the idea that Helen had included only in an event what he had never understood in about ten sessions. It hated those images that had withdrawn her as the transfiguration of an alien jailer. And it had disgust not to know how to remember what, you/he/she could really be happened.
«From how much you are here?»
He/she asked her to break the anguish of his/her thoughts.
«It will be a mezz'oretta» he/she sketched.
«And have you let me sleep so?»
Coffee was on the fire. Helen turned him of release.
«Oh, excuse me. I forgot that the pupo must be put in bed» it mocked him/it annoyed. «I have not wakened up you because I had alone disgust to touch you.»
Angel was anesthetized by now to the humiliations.
«However the cover you have put him to me I set.»
«Because I also had disgust to see you. Do I enter house and thing I find? The great actor Angolo Sastri covered with sborra: a child that instead of sbrodolarsi with what cola from above the it does with what it squirts from under. Had you hardly ended an orgy: you owed really to race to the computer to masturbate?»
Already, the computer. Other undue interference.
«You have extinguished you the computer?»
«Because? Do you remember to have done him/it?»
«I don't remember a big that.»
«Badly that memory me for both.»
Coffee had been climbed, Helen was turned for extinguishing him/it. Angel took advantage to give a glance and him for him of it you/he/she didn't like.
To the mirror you/he/she would have arrived later there. But the casting of white medals on the shirt justified every reprimand of his/her/their sister. You/he/she had been inactive for times and the air of the night you/he/she had transformed his/her glorious sperm in dried crusts. It followed the relics of the throw with the look from the abdomen to the breast. Then it continued anchor, that flood inarginata: it felt him sticky until under the throat, the hair of the unmade beard held back other disgust.
«Make to go me to change» it announced.
«Hurried. I hold you in warm the coffee.»
It got up dragging the chair, heavy footsteps brought him/it in room without great conviction.
Left half open windows, read unmade, dressed wherever. To the feet of the chair the cotton cover lay, that with which the thoughtful little sister had fondly covered him and that he was gotten rid of from the awakening, throwing her/it for earth.
The den.
You/he/she was not changed since then never. But then when? How long was you/he/she passed from when he/she remembered him to have taken possession of that clipping of territory? The whole time of his/her life.
From zero to thirty in an alone shelter, you/he/she was never gone out of it, as a pup abandoned by a migration, barricaded waiting for the return of the flock.
Angel Sastri in alive reality for a long time raggomitolato in his/her bunk. They are only fetishes those that desultorily go out of house to delude himself/herself/themselves some ephemeral embrace of the worldly glory.
His/her den, to every way, it was a country house.
You removed the shirt and it threw her/it on the bed. You bent, and it picked up regardful also the cover. He/she thought rightful to refold her/it and to put her/it street somehow, but it realized that whitish stains had dirtied her. You/he/she could not put back her/it so, and it also threw on the bed close to the shirt that shroud of shame, in attended that the weekly questua of the dirty cloths justified a laundry.
It grabbed a shirt and without delaying over it returned in the kitchen.
Odors, sounds, colors of year suggested him ancient rituals, gestures of healthy habit famigliare.
Taken the remote control and turned on on the newscast: it had to be more or less that the time of the news when, student, got up still to schedules workers. The voice of the reporter spread in the air together with the odor of the coffee. It opened the belief and takings of the biscuits. Those that were, not certain first oven. Then he sat and it turned him toward the screen, crunching.
The news-bulletin was already begun and a correspondent wound in the numbers was facing the economic page usual litany of global misfortunes.
The silence of Angel lasted by now from too much and Helen tried to graze him/it.
«Angel, speaking of the other night.»
To that indication, Angel became stiff.
«We don't have anything to say» it sentenced, simulating unpublished interest for the course of the titles. But shortly he remembered that of economy didn't absolutely understand anything and allowed to go out a truth whose awareness was matured only him to the mind in that instant. «I want to go out of it. I will tell him/it Emilio. I won't participate anymore.» One direct on the conscience.
As Helen you/he/she would have reacted, anxious to share the walk of the life with his/her Angel, and done unload by him really to the beginning?
«Before passing to the foreign ones, we have an updating on the horrible crime in Milan with which we have opened the newspaper.»
If storm had ever had away way of sweeping life, here that of these two the debut of the journalist made shreds of pure dismay.
Every thought fell in the void, as if of the succession both already knew.
«The enquirers have furnished the generalities of the girl found dead this morning to the dawn near the Park Sempione. It deals with Laura Fontana seventeen years. The family ones of the victim, that we remember were not in the city, I/you/they have already been contacted, and you/they are also reentering for proceeding to the pain recognition of the body. Nothing has still been revealed regarding the causes of the death, that it seems to have happened for suffocation. There are no traces of violence, even if to the moment the sexual motive stays the principal hypothesis of investigation.»
Bad Invisible Teachers Page 29