Chapter 17.
Helen had slept the whole night and the following morning. And that afternoon would not have liked to be outside himself/herself/themselves despite the day made clear by the temporal violent of the night.
You pass rapid and nervous they estranged her/it from the exit of the subway of Plaza of the Republic.
You/he/she had not wanted to take the car and you/he/she had crossed underground the city, you/he/she could almost hide, allowing to be transported by that vermones metallic that every day, untiring, it completes his/her duty without asking questions.
You/he/she woke up without opening the eyes, you/he/she had been picked on a side, the narrow knees among the hands, and you/he/she had left that the night eternally continued inside of her. You/he/she had remained for a long time this way, exhausted in the fibers and in the spirit, incapable to think, up to that the call of the bladder had not forced her to go down from the bed. The day was initiated so, against its wish.
The bodies. The bodies that in automatic their needs remember you, fottendosene of the soul, of his noblest aspirations. To eat and to evacuate, to eat and to evacuate, to eat. And to still evacuate. But to evacuate the anger, the disgust, the resignation: that was impossible. To cover all with the indifference, as to sprinkle an assorbiodori of brand. Or opening wide a window for lasciar to run away the rottenness, so that you pour again him in the air of all; and since all breathe him/it, the rottenness becomes of anybody.
A window, here is of thing had need. But not one any: all it took is changing the air. There you/he/she would have thrown his/her own refusals, there you/he/she would have extinguished with his/her words the monstrous life that you/he/she had seen to toss himself/herself/themselves in the cylinder of the magician.
A rotten rottenness even more: that of the betrayal.
You/he/she had promised him/it to him, that perverse and intoxicating demon: anymore you/he/she would have bothered her, forced to look where he/she didn't want. Anymore you/he/she would have approached her to the abyss.
And Helen was not able whether to trust himself/herself/themselves. It was his/her brother his/her twin.
Instead he knew. Certainly that he/she knew, all knew. All except her, as always.
That wince of pride and anger had pushed her to go out. It had to complain the truth, once at least, also at the cost to tear her/it of hand from the custodian that you/he/she had continually escaped him to him.
You/he/she was done you delay for her. The two had passed when Helen was felt ready to go out.
A hour later you/he/she could approach now almost to the door of the den of Angel, once apartment of family. In hand it had his/her keys, as valid as those of he who you/he/she was found again master of the castle. For a long time it used her to liking, storming in the house, also only for the pleasure to send him/it on all the furies.
But today it was different.
For the first time it had it cleans the feeling to enter one other people's domicile. That door was a border, besides which a master was free to accept her/it or to refuse her/it. You same he still felt free to get further of there and you/he/she would have been as if you/he/she was ever passed. But it was not able.
It had an obligation verse herself that you/he/she could not betray. Betrayed by everybody, also from herself no.
It grazed the bell. A metallic growl spread in the apartment and it reached reduced to her ears as a confused memory.
Nobody responded, so much that her same credette not to even have played.
It retried, with greater conviction, but there was no sign that some had felt.
Angel there was not. A possibility that you/he/she had not even considered before going out, as if at least the presence, after so many deceptions, the pits a due action.
It was already about to get further when a sudden noise from inside it brought her/it on his/her footsteps.
A dry hit, heavy, but vaguely reduced. Something was fallen, not away from the door of entry, something that her well you/he/she could know. Probably it was the big vase of glass on the tavolino in stay, that fortunately fell on the carpet and he/she succeeded in not breaking himself/herself/themselves.
It stuck to the door and he/she succeeded in distinguishing some laughters.
Angel snickered, striving to stop himself/herself/themselves. And it was not alone.
Those guilty laughters of innocence, when the discolo little boy, regardless of the sanctions, he allows to crush by the comic side of his/her own boast. It is to serve as counterpoint, that of the girlfriend of the heart, the principessina flattered by the rider that partecipe of its enterprises makes her/it.
It recognized that rice, because once belonged to her.
They hissed to story, now, the two impudent.
If you/he/she had played anchor, that game idiot would still have gone on. It was already waited that a camouflaged vocina would have mocked her, shouting" there is no anybody." And then down other laughters.
It still tightened in hand the keys. In an instant it decided to use her.
And as the ferraglies of the lock they started to mumble their disappointment in the being you violate, here that from inside house the laughters stopped.
It was almost a break-in: the door opened wide him on the stay, offering the sight of the couch to the visitor, of the tavolino, of the vase dragged to the carpet by a pair of female jeans.
On the couch Angel sat with I wear only the pantalonis. It faded, for the surprise, the anger, the obstacle. Besides him, push against the most distant arm, almost pits already ready to vanish himself/herself/themselves, there was that ragazzina.
It looked for of riabbottonarsi the blouse, the sow. It tried to hide himself/herself/themselves with hysterical and guilty gestures. Meanwhile it welcomed her/it in underpantses, it was useless that it huddled the legs, those damned adolescent gambette from the skin of silk.
«You that devil does here us? Should not you be at work?»
Thing other could wait him for the old world gotten lazy by the disciplinatissima Helen, if not to be himself/herself/themselves where others you/they have decided for her? What a satisfaction that dismayed question, that unpublished gratification to appear in the wrong place in the wrong moment!
«Dressed and leave» the order snowed on the esterrefattis lovers.
«What devil you are saying?» it beat him.
«I am not talking to you» he/she hastily answered. It is to the ragazzina he turned, serious and definite as a stepmother. «Laura, this is not the place for you. I beg you to go without replying.»
Laura silent assistette, disorientated, very more naked than it was not.
It looked at his beloved, as to have of it if not defense, at least a guide.
«You don't have anything to ask, neither to understand» it hastened then to instruct her/it Helen. «He cannot help you, it is not able to help anybody. I repeat him/it to you: leave from this house.»
«Angel, me.» it tried to defense, perhaps, the young one.
But what you/he/she had wanted to say it didn't interest in none of his/her/their brothers anymore.
«Ago' as it says» it truncated him so every replica, without even more to look at her/it, as if that desirable body didn't practice any attraction anymore on him.
It is Laura it shelled away, and proceeding almost huddled up on the floor that pantalonis with which his/her lover had effortlessly overwhelmed the vase in a free and serene gesture of passion took back. It inserted them, not more observed, in the indifference of both. And the memory of the low weeping to which he abandoned once out of the door would still have accompanied her for different time, questioning her/it on the true motive for so much pain without never having answered of it.
Laura had gone and it immediately was as if so much had ever been present the anger of Helen it was pressing and tragic.
A new game of the parts starts.
Without script, the mattatore wou
ld have had bread for its teeth.
Him. «What cazzo you/he/she is jumped you in mind? You/he/she can be known as you have been able.»
You. «You, as have you been able? Filthy carcass and me that I trusted you!»
Him. «Of thing you are speaking?»
You. «Know very well it! You know him/it about thing I am speaking. The Furnaces, Pezzali. You knew everything! And you have not told me nothing, you have left that they still seized me. Even you have been you that you have pushed again me in their hands. In yours. Oddio. I am going crazy!»
Helen sat him on the couch, close to his/her/their brother. It was there that he/she didn't succeed her more than to hold back the tears.
«Now calmed.» A hand was placed on her shoulder, fragile contact of an only caress. «And it begins to explain better you.»
«Thing you want that I/you/he/she explain? Have put me in trap! You knew that the firm where they were me to assume you/he/she is checked from. from you, accursed, you that The don'ts even know as to call!»
«No, I didn't know him/it.» The epidural one of the possible sentences.
Helen the credettes, justified even the sense of it.
«Certain, you didn't know him/it. And as you can know something? You are not a scientist. I/you/he/she don't have anything to do with it a cazzo with them. You are only a strolling player and you have taken around me for this whole time. Have you pretended, it is not true? You played to make the man of the mysteries.»
«I interpret the signs» Angel stormed in the rambling speech.
For an instant Helen seemed to stagger in front of the incomprehensible boldness of that answer.
«But what cazzo you say. What does he/she want to say" I interpret the signs?" Which signs?»
«Those armatures during our sessions.»
The girl the scene represented him. A flock of foamy and howling perverts, devastated by the drugs, that nude and arrapati were pursued for pairing off himself/herself/themselves wildly. You/he/she had known something of the kind when Emilio Ricciuti had approached her a first time, incapable of sorvolare on that infoiato details.
The desperation he changed then in anger. Anger for the ignorance that had veiled her for all these years, as a hostage segregated to the dark, incapable to have been distinguishing the day for the night.
«Who are really? Who you from the permission to play with the lives of the others?»
Angel stared at her/it without betraying emotions.
«You want indeed it to know?»
Helen recognized the trap in the question. "If you don't want to understand, it means that you are not ready to do him/it" Angel had told her not so much time before. "When you will have the free mind, when you will be ready to trust me, as you have always done, then you will return, and you will ask me to explain." The moment had come, therefore that would have tightened her to that truth from which it had hopelessly tried to run away. It was herself, now, the alone person responsible of his/her capture. "Until then, I have sworn: I won't be me to force to look you in the abyss."
Was its escape ended therefore? Definite and in an instant it deposed the weapons.
«Tell me everything» it docilely said. «Tell me what you want, what creeds is correct that I know. Only I beg you a thing: tell me him as you have always done, with the same love with which you narrated me your histories and you made the heroin of it. And help the strength to find me to sustain that horrible vision that persecutes me, also for your guilt.»
«It is not a fable, Helen» it replied severe. «But if you will have the patience to follow you will feel me an old history as the man, that he is still developing. But whose final it is already writing in our blood.»
Bad Invisible Teachers Page 18
