David - How blood
Throwing his cigarette out the window, absently David releases the belt and pushes back the hair - the system tie, the collar of his jacket. Retrieve cigarettes and mobile phone.
It is evening.
It is strange to be wearing that tiredness wild - a glimpse at the gate of the house of Samuel and meditate to take another route instead. Delving into the woods, leaving the thorns and brambles will fasten the ankles. Let the darkness fade slowly and every path that night sharpen the senses.
not happened for a long time - it is also true that for a long time do not park in front of the house, anyway.
But it is the first time that the need for solitude is like so much the need for a den - hiding in the eyes of the world and buried in silence every word spoken or heard.
shake off the image of a classroom full of people, the looks of the cameras. The looks of the girls
Holmes, hidden in the crowd.
He thought that he would have noticed, David - the turnout of so many people would confuse the portraits into one picture. Instead, just turn your head to meet the blank stare of those eyes - it was enough shift attention from the jury to his client or to trace the origin of a sudden noise. The reflection of light.
YOU KNOW.
When he was released by the court the blond boy was there - even if it would recognize the photo of his face he had not appeared on the computer screen months before. Although Cooper had not ever sent those files - with too embarrassed wearing that dress worsted and had too light irises, hands too big for a slender body. Do not thin. Skeletal
instead.
Drained.
He had looked away, he was stuck in the car. He turned the music down the window, almost in a hurry. Yet
think Vivian was inevitable - a review of his hands on his thigh that slipped behind the tough stuff of jeans. The cotton boxer shorts, stuck in the belt buckle thumb.
He had left his mark on the neck of the teeth, that first night - the next time he had sought the relief of bone tasting it as you would an exotic food.
something forbidden.
And for a moment the boy had put the court on his own body - he was forced to pull over the car on the side of the road, pressing his hands over his eyes.
looking for cigarettes, with urgency.
Perhaps it was then that reached the decision to speak with Samuel o forse la Jaguar lo avrebbe portato al cancello della sua villa comunque – forse era lì che sarebbe dovuto tornare per toccare il fondo di quella fragilità maledetta e testare la propria forza una volta per tutte.
Però adesso sembra mancare l’energia necessaria ad affrontare un’altra prova – il corpo chiede riposo, la mente silenzio. E lui scende dalla macchina corrugando la fronte, socchiudendo le ciglia contro il cielo mentre richiude la portiera. Mentre infila il braccio fra le sbarre del cancello e intanto pensa alle infinite volte che ha aperto quella serratura, alle infinite volte che l’ha fatto per noia o per convinzione. O per sesso.
Mentirebbe, se non ammettesse che gli manca.
Non Samuel - Samuel is something you can leave in a corner and find, however, in anger or distraction, is part of your emotional and broke it formed over time, and broke it structured.
But there is total surrender of her body to yours, the way in which frowns to contain the pain and her lips rubbing on the pillow while you grab the hair to face him.
control that lets you manage, that lets you sharpen.
hurt him and give him pleasure are two sides of the same coin, perhaps this is the reason why David has always needed: to model the contradictions with the strength of the muscles and then get out of it exhausted as a warrior on the battlefield - the illusion can win. Take everything, including Samuel Weldon. Its fucking
North.
It is not pleasant, now, ring the doorbell of his house to restore doverglielo. Having to cope with its metaphysical utopias with the credibility reserved for real things and tell him that yes, he had a doubt too. As irrational and unstable. And absurd.
there was a doubt.
It has poisoned every night since Vivian and the man suddenly became brethren - him away and if he found himself behind, burned in the fire. It was reborn from the ashes like a Phoenix stubborn, a worm insistent. He hated
Samuel, for that matter - has cursed every single page of his novel and'm damned disappointed with the verses of its poets: Cohen. Aleixandre.
something must be escaped, if it's there now.
But something always escapes, when it comes to the teacher - that is the direction of his feet or his ideals, or any connection between a boy and the protagonist of his latest book. Or her mind.
His life. He expected to find Samuel
busy writing - for him that could not be further confirmation. The final victory, in a sense.
The man who opens the door has heavy dark circles, however, matted hair on the forehead and the eyes of those who did not find any property stimulus in the image in front of him. Of those who do not even tries to fake it - no reaction. Eyes sunk into his eyes only - lips parted.
A layer of stubble, to shade the cheeks.
"You make me come in?"
Samuel limited to deviate from the threshold when he moves a step forward - the following releases with his eyes while his jacket and puts the phone on the table while you look around without haste.
There is an unusual disorder in the room - the day struck blind and piles of papers scattered everywhere, some empty cup. A good book.
from under the chair, in a flash of light cut through the pupils of the cat's shadow as a threat silent.
"Are you okay?" He asks, turning back.
But the friend is never good when her house is a mess - you may guess the extent of his discomfort on the angle of misalignment of the cushions. And there is no need to study the smoothness with which the falls on the shirt also to realize that He must be thin, the bones appear more pronounced and are more angular cheekbones - that the eyes seem lighter than usual.
For a moment, suddenly, David felt his stomach in an effort to nausea.
"Shit, you're studying to be a vampire?" He says, crossing the room with bold steps.
Open up the window, pulls away the curtains.
"It looks like a tomb in here, just missing the wisps"
The other does not comment, though - do not look away.
He's standing in the doorway, just - arms hanging at your sides and sleeves glides on the knuckles almost to cover the fingers. As he was a child.
It is what is most striking, perhaps - the contrast between ancient gestures and hardness of new features. The traits that seem more masculine than they have ever been and the fragility that can be guessed in the posture of the body instead. In the stillness of the gaze. David
never knows what to expect, in certain circumstances.
becomes difficult to manage even himself - to control the urge to stop the wrists behind his back and push it against the wall. Spingerglisi him.
Yet this time something was suggested to stay away - not even insist on knowing if you feel good an idea seems to be taken into account.
"Listen, I need to talk to," cut short then, going around the sofa to get cigarettes. "I just want to know if you have this or if I have to undergo electric shock treatment, to hope to get your attention. Do you consider yourself fairly clear? "
" polished, "is the answer, marked strongly. One syllable after another without smearing.
He looks up suddenly, unable to keep the surprise. Unable to believe that it can be really the voice of Samuel, to decline in the notes so hard.
combines the eyebrows, and square.
"All right," nods.
But he does not like - for nothing.
does not like because of his attitude seems to subvert the rules established over decades of interaction - because his eyes speak of hostility evident and he is not used to anything like that.
did not like it because it looks like an affront. Un'insubordinazione, in a sense.
And why the fuck does not like, it's amazing Samuel dare overthrow him a grudge when he would be a betrayal dovergli reproach. When only a few weeks before he had to digest the unfortunate circumstance of being sidelined for a guy who can only claim the merit of having an unpronounceable name. Or include some salmon fishermen in your family tree, and this seems to have automatically become the incarnation of the North. The
fucked up, stupid North.
He can not believe it.
"I think it's your lucky day, sir, it just happens to have come just to talk about your favorite topic," hisses, with all the venom of his worst performances. "The Viking angelic, this? "
But it is a bitter victory, later, when finally the other looks down. When David sees him stretch the muscles of the jaw - swallowing.
new look Raise slowly.
"Go."
"What did you say?"
"I said move. Get out of my house. "
It is completely lacking the experience to collect a hit like that - David has never had trouble dealing with unexpected situations neither is particularly difficult to control their reactions when they get a sudden shock.
Yet this time is found to blink, unable to process reality. Unable to respond with due promptness, to parry the jab. Amortized. Nearly
wind breaks, for a moment.
The next instant, is not only the indignation to push his friend. It is something deeper - a chip embedded in it. Sharp knife.
"Samuel. I think you're really exaggerating, today, "the blow in the face, the clenched fist firmly on his wrist. The eyes firmly anchored to her - black in black.
The anger of whole years, to vibrate with each other.
It never happened that you are so much closer to the limit - Samuel never claimed a look with that determination and he has not ever heard in my temples beat violence with the blind force. He has never experienced so much aggression in the slip a darker impulse - the instinct to pull the scary mind and let the sex to channel the anger and pain. A
hurt really, once and for all.
must sink the nails in the flesh, to maintain control, and despite all the other remains impassive. As if the close did not themselves breaking the wrist, as if nothing has really frightened.
"I saw you on television," marks instead - in his eyes stubbornly fixed. Deadpan voice - coarse. David
do is stretch the lips in an ironic grin, not to be the first to take his eyes.
"Oh yeah?"
"From Nancy Grace," Samuel explains.
It does not need to say more because he focuses the real crux of the question - why are all of a sudden the answer to the fears of recent days. Samuel would not have reacted as if his very valuable Viking had not really had a history of abuse. If everything was only a novel, if those pages do not recall a basic fact.
Almost hard to follow the flow of time, after - even the words of the coming muffled.
"You have all my disdain, I you is clear. "
And that's what the final thrust - the explosion of suppressed tension for months. For years, maybe.
Or maybe it's the horror of seeing Vivian on the worst stretch of shadows, the feeling of being totally helpless and the weight of his life rests on the shoulders. Every choice made, every decision.
But the muscles are stretched on their own - running his hand on the table to clear away objects and papers and books.
"What, Samuel, want to rewrite the Criminal Code?" He says, while the fragments of cup splashing on the floor. While the computer crashes to the ground in a hiss and dull the anger pumping through ears as blood. Like a diamond. "You want to abolish jobs, aerating all pedophiles that happen to hit?"
The other did not respond, and he let go a laugh.
"I'm sorry, but I'm not going to give up my job just because the guy that you have decided to reserve my ass was made rape a kid," he adds, sharpening the sentence in a deliberate cruelty. Looking into his eyes as if to challenge him - if you would like to see. Up to that point.
The slap, when it comes, it is clear the crash of something that maybe really is breaking forever. The teeth cut the gum, the room vibrates. After
, leaving only the silence of looks to bind even the children who were both - eyes like razors and the certainty that it will be the first time to put the seal on an unbridgeable gap. A scan time quell'addio - decide on the gestures.
David would never have thought it would come about - did not imagine anything like that while the Jaguar parked in front of the gate of the villa.
naivety is to hurt, more than anything - to discover that expectations should have abandoned him years earlier and the disappointment of a frustration that continues to burn as he was a boy. The fun of being able to touch the other departing just as much as possible, waving the flags of the enemy or shooting from behind. Being at the center only when you deviate much from the center.
and realize that to keep pinned to the bed is never enough to stop his race or purpose has never served in entrargli. That there was need to hit the blond, to get to leave an imprint in his life. A cross-target.
I've never been alone.
And there was another time when Samuel appeared to be more ruthless in quell'appartenere always and only to itself. A moment more dangerous. David
feel your muscles tensing of a sudden, when it finally breaks the stillness, but the relief is an illusion that dissolves very too fast - just enough time to record the unexpected narrowing of the safety distance and the eyes of others, which become closer, more intense. His hand is raised slowly.
There are victories of which only he seems able, who performs such acts. As if they were nothing.
You tell the world that you were the one to win and no one would have no objection because, while her fingers caress your lips look remains impassive - remains unmoved after seeing, as he takes your blood to your mouth You feel your knees and surrender. While his eyes are lowered and would like to grab the neck, forcing him to watch.
And I can not even tell fuck instead.
Needless to avoid the stretch between you and leaving more time - that he will repeat again, just more quietly, "Go."
The slamming door is creaking wood of the porch - it's windy out, and hung to a beam, there are five metal cylinders that David had never seen.
The air moves them by spreading a melody, almost childish - he stared for a few seconds and then adjusts his jacket over his shoulders, rubs his lips with the back of his hand.
Breathe deeply. The forest knows
ground. Sometimes ground
knew even his clothes, years before, and there was a bathroom that could to take away the smell of grass from the hair when his grandfather passed on the fields with his tractor.
It's funny how certain memories come back to define themselves in moments that should belong only to anger or resentment - in so tied to the moments that seem almost impossible to sink some roots in the past.
Samuel was a strange child - sat on the grass cleanly and it was as if the woods the other touched with a delicacy when you immerse yourself in the bushes and brambles.
was convinced that I have green eyes - David was laughing like crazy while he insisted that he looked good, and swore that it was a very dark green. Moss Green.
and small swore on everything, Samuel - Meant to believe him establish a true covenant of blood. Bind him indissolubly - real.
This is ironic, now, typing on the computer keyboard the name of his secret more unlikely - look for the key combination of umlauts and enter the password. Click the Search function, wait.
And know that at that very moment their paths are separating, though - the first time I swear it would not be served. The first time that blood is really on the lips.
in the gorge.
was enough snorting with laughter as the edges of the wound to come back to split - David leans forward and his eyes narrowing in front of the sole result appeared on the screen: Osvik against Petersen, a final ruling.
Seven years earlier.
Tombola.
And here are praised and duck ponds. The small, quiet and provincial Rosenfield where nothing ever happens to blatant - where you can type a name Scandinavian entire database to see reduced to a single link. The right one.
David has not forgotten how long more research like this in first person - get off at that hour in the basement of a court, later, is like going back years. Reviewing boy, feeling abandoned ideals and look in vain for the paths of your steps along the corridors. Search for fingerprints in the dust of paper, sip coffee watered down. There is something terrible in all this.
something illogical.
Now that the name Björn Petersen appears in all the sheets I even remember that Samuel must have acted, on occasion - not a surprise to find the family environment as a background of abuse or the involvement of particular awe of her stepfather. Nothing is more classic, after all.
But that sound - hard. Edgy.
consonants juxtaposed combinations in foreign and the doubt of star wrong accent. Star all wrong. Hermann
Osvik: convicted at first instance decision upheld on appeal and sentenced to ten years to be served in a federal prison.
Vivian.
Shoulder pressing on the back of the chair - his head and slumps back. The succession of geometric iron grates on the ceiling.
Osvik.
moistened his lips, David closes his eyes.
could not say exactly what he got - hard to find that kind of information in hand and save the doubt that he has merely reopened a wound unnecessarily. Has signed a betrayal.
He never addressed any questions to Vivian - did not pressure because he explains himself and has never sought to investigate his past. He never even knew his full name - a question of respect.
Delicacy, maybe.
And suddenly the truth: the son of a pedophile. Brother of the victim. What else?
it would be funny because the feeling is to know even less than before - at the bottom in these acts there is nothing that Vivian's eyes have not told right away. Nothing new, perhaps.
But each of the guys who were in court this morning seems to have his face now - victims and witnesses, brothers and sisters. The blond kid off the court and the child who was waiting with his grandparents in the hallways. The photos of those who were killed, the survivors. And Samuel
there in the middle, fighting their battle with the power of silence. Even more words - just a slap. Lips still burning under the teeth.
"You know why do not you believe it, Dave?"
"I do not believe what?"
"What I have green eyes."
"You have green eyes, you idiot!"
"so that it is preferable, rather that look. "
" But if you'll look a thousand times! "
" You do not want them. "
Ultimately, it is ironic that comes after nearly three decades, the day when you cross the woods with the tiredness in the legs . The day that he is waiting on the doorstep - more thin, property - and suddenly you find yourself amazed at how clear his eyes. Combining
eyebrows, David closes his fist on the table edge.
Zoom out the binder of judgments, with an abrupt gesture.
"Have you finished, sir?"
"For now, yes, I've had enough," replied the keeper, and there is little else in the night: cigarettes extracted quickly from his pocket, take the lighter.
The bright light the flame in his hands.
And the smoke from his lips that glides along the edges of the wound - cold caress. Bitter taste in the throat. In the mouth. How
blood.
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