Chapter 30.
You/he/she was made to beat inside as a refusal.
Whoever had frequented jails, you/he/she would ever have seen so much submissiveness in a prisoner. Angel was in custody to protect, a highway to four passages toward the sentence. Yet it seemed not to rub him nothing of it.
Immense Angel, gives birth rejected among his/her/their brothers! This yes that ago incazzare the Old one!
The makeup of Your success has been really this: few grams of pepper I press to the rectum. Nothing can slip on the man without upsetting him/it: in the good or in the evil, the permeability to the emotions will always conduct him/it to the presence of the creator. "Thanks, God, that have blessed my vacations with a blinding sun!" "God, have pity of me, and make me the rain that can favor my crops."
But above all" God, forgives my sins."
The Old man would appreciate even from Angel a wince of malignant pride: I don't know to have killed, but I me of the truogolo of lust and blood that I have contributed to create.
"Reformed, villain!" "No, old infatuated!" If you/he/she had not had liking for Don Giovanni, it would not have him/it certain done to celebrate from one of his/her more results creatures.
But Angel had abdicated by now. Died civil, you/he/she had chosen. Death of the soul in a body organically funzionante.
It lay annoyed on a cot in an isolated cell. It was always also the brutal assassin of an innocent minor and for some crimes the prison code is less well indulgent than that penal.
To abduct him/it from itself same, the warder it came.
«Sastri there is your lawyer.»
Here it is, the non in demand custodian of the legal virginity. Unbearable pack, fruit of a wince of cruelty of the Old one, that was the first one of their stock when it shouted in the desert" anybody touches Caino."
Already sat to the table in the room of the interviews, the pettifogger attended composed, hiding his/her own conscience behind thick glasses.
A prince of the hole, thirty years on it places, foraged by anxious relatives, anxious to get back to house his/her child. And not because they knew him/it innocent.
«Lawyer.» he/she greeted him/it dowdy, throwing himself/herself/itself lazy on the chair.
«Good morning Angel, as are you?»
«The anamnesis is inclusive in the price?»
The anamnesis no, but the patience would have bewitched her apart.
«We come therefore to the: I have ready the appeal of release from prison.»
Silence on the other side. Not that it was waited for the exultation but at least that it didn't ignore so the possibility to recover himself/herself/themselves his/her own life up to the trial.
«So much doesn't pass.»
The lawyer removed from him the glasses, he passed a handkerchief in forehead, you/he/she cleaned the lenses, the all to deceive the nervousness that that beau transmitted him.
«Angel, you are innocent.»
«They says of no.»
«You are innocent» it repeated. «And we will try him/it to us.»
«It goes from there of his/her reputation?»
«It goes from there of your life» him stizzì. «Listen to me: this is the last time that you will feel me worry me for you, of now in before I will speak to you the only language that you want to feel, and it is that of the law. For which repeat you: you could be already in house within the end of the week.»
Angel also hardened, strong of tests that encircled him/it as a wall.
«I don't see how: the sperm in the throat of Laura is mine. And under his/her fingernails, the fragments of skin found have my Dna. There was me to gobble the girl that night. Nessun'altra reconstruction has sense.»
«Stop to make her/it the victim! You know very well it not to be gone out of your room.»
«It looks like it is a detail, that to the judges it doesn't interest.»
«But it will interest this.» The lawyer found a wince of professional enthusiasm. To do scarcerare an investigated nailed by signs so eclatanti could make to enter him/it the gotha of the manipulators of justice. And you/they would not have been the whims snarling autolesionistici of that pupattolos to separate him/it from the success.
Takings of the sheets from the handbag and it turned them toward Angel. That he was careful not to read them.
«We depart from the Dna of the fragments of skin. The victim has rebelled.» There pits of the reproach in the colds eyes of Angel? A wince of respect for a sectioned body, ricucito and buried in everybody hurry that once pulsated of warm blood? «Laura» he corrected. «With the strength you/he/she has been kept in knee and you/he/she has been prevented her from getting away himself/herself/themselves from the throat the fault. You/he/she has tried to free himself/herself/themselves some hold of the hands, scratching his/her assassin.»
«And then? That skin is mine, so it results from the analyses.»
«Not really, analyses are confused. You/they have found masculine Dna and that corresponds to you. But there were also traces of female Dna, that has not been analyzed never.»
«You/he/she can be of whoever, also of same Laura.»
«But however it would give us some time. And even more it would give this of it.» New sheet and new indifference. «This is the skill on the sperm found her in throat: the quantity of inactive sperms points out that the throw was more old man of a few times, perhaps also of one day in comparison to the presumed time of the crime.»
Angel faked well to neglect the sense of the datum.
«And all this, to thing you/he/she can bring?»
«You don't understand? It would be enough to ask a new examination on the Dna and you you would be out, at least up to the verification of the second genetic profile.»
«I appreciate your attempts, mother and dad you/they are spending well their money. But the skin is mine. The sborra is mine. Also the computer is mine.»
«Also this is not exact: the account is yours. The computer is not demonstrable. With a Horse of Sow whoever would have been able to take possession of your profile and to have written to your place. Angel, nobody has seen you go out.»
«But nobody has also seen me stay us.»
With studied gesture, it removed again from him the glasses, as if to appear less nerd could confer him greater credit.
«Boy, listen well to me: in this moment you/he/she is easier to make to go out you that to hold you inside. Which doesn't mean absolution: the PM will give battle, because of signs are of it. But if I leave here now you, I would come less to my professional duties.»
«Afar from me to slander you in front of the bulletin-board.»
Therefore the light of days attended again it agonizzanti and sleepless nights in a house by now extraneous. The city already grinded the teeth, with the mumbling stomach for the hunger. Fresh meat in meal in the Milan to be fed. Where, hidden among the colds buildings, one hundred and more modern sciamanis perpetrated to them liking spells of apparition and disappearance.
If someone has been able to enter his/her computer, to steal his intimacy, misusing to his/her insaputa of his/her same skin as of his/her seed, if someone has been able impunemente to close the mouth to Laura unloading him the guilt, that someone you/he/she would not have attended further for also closing her/it to him. Even you/he/she would have found correct a less repugnant way.
«I don't know from thing you hide you» taken back the lawyer. «Neither because in the jail you feel you to the sure one. But I can assure you that the true dangers you race here them inside.»
«Ago' what you owe» the granted Angel.
«I would have done him however.» They were the last words before getting up.
The hand didn't hand him, an useless gesture knew him/it. Also Angel, from his/her par, he was already getting further.
«However it is Helen» it told him the last one, recalling the attention of it. «Helen, not mother and dad, that you/he/she is spending his/her m
oney to throw out you.»
Poor little sister, destined to see to slip his/her own aspirations, in sweet attended of a gratitude that would never have arrived her.
Angel crossed to bashful the corridor that brought him/it in the cell, in an area common to the prisoners. It was free in that breaker and this tormented him/it, free to chain him to the thoughts from which you/he/she was escaped.
Earth look, to proceed ciondolante.
It bumped something and it was found against the wall.
As reawakened, it was found I set the hot tempered look of a spitfire. A big man of so many kilos and so many more centimeters you/he/she had bumped him/it and you/he/she had done him/it he/she waits for, even if the tonnage would have made difficult pass nearby him uninjured however.
It didn't remove his eyes of back, with such a heavy look to break the breath.
A hit on the shoulder brought him/it to the present.
On the other side, a young sateen with two-headed spropositati was protected him before. It was a wolf ringhiante, a war sample separated by the flock. For this even more dangerous.
«Ettore sends yourself his/her regards» it grinded on his face, with the breath that stinked of beer.
A rabid dog, blinded by the hate, able everything. And with a good motive to do him/it.
They left him/it there, standing, without more to touch him/it. Without more to look at him/it, not us n'era need. The message had reached destination.
They went for their road turning his back. From under the braghes, the colossus exhibited a bundle tattooed littorio on the calf.
Angel knew him/it: to the next meeting, there would have been no other words.