Unrepentaint. Impenitenti

That afternoon, when I rintanai in the library with Hewitt to study, we had not yet mentioned the internship, even though I knew that he was interested, if for different reasons. For this, with the head still between the books and a cup of coffee in hand, I I ventured to ask, in a low voice.

"You have filled the form for the internship?"

The library was cloaked in silence, the few people that were there were far apart. It was not often, maybe it was the side effect of a murder.

Hewitt stood up, his eyes dark from the open book under his nose for

downwards on me. The manual reflected a little bit of his personality: he was ruined on the edges of the hard cover, post-it colored were attacked at the begi

Hewitt ran a hand through his raven hair. "Yes, but it was more for not wasting the attempt to the actual hope."

I watched him for long moments. Although he and I were friends, I had to confess that, had it not been for the fact that he was gay, I would have done

little thought. The nose proportionate, eyebrows, expressive, and the pallor of his skin in the complex were more than attractive.

"You're going to come to the memorial?" he asked, leading away the topic. I raised my eyes to heaven, with a little too much em. Not that he does not know at least a part of my thoughts, but I had to remin me that I was correct to express my skepticism that way. "We will definitely River, you know. Him and Alex were friends."

"The more reason, you should show a little compassion," I scolded him, not with indignation, for my feelings as much as for my attitude. According to Hewitt's, not me I was behaving like the people wanted to do.

They all believed that I was disappointed, but also that I was a somewhat lucky to be still alive. The truth was that I would have preferred to be buried three feet under the ground just like Alex Moore, the young boy is found dead at the begi

"Compassion for, and the best friend of my ex-boyfriend, that held him while he scopava another, but I... you know."

"The River is a piece of shit, we have found. But there was much that Alex could do about it."

"And what are you afraid of, exactly? Who can blame myself something because I decide not to go to a memorial?" sibilai, releasing the anger that I was affossando in the last days.

Hewitt took a deep breath. "I'm just saying that you should attend, even my father is convinced of it. Could help the investigation". Shrugged your shoulders, going by the look on his book.

Rimuginai on those words for a brief moment, it made me realize that mayb there was something that I was saying. After all, his father was still

always a detective, and if the council was to participate, I would have been able to put pride aside for a night. What I didn't understand was how my presence could be of help.

I did not reply, but I got up. "I'm going to look for a book" I muttered. I need to be alone for a few minutes, away from the eyes of prying Hewitt.

The library had a vaulted ceiling high, so much so that I couldn't distinguish the details. I walked between the libraries in mahogany, walking next to the shelves crammed full. Some even had the cabinets, for better preserving the volume fine.

I submit that the garden of books with ease, but inside me there was a call ancestral solitude. Many people think that after you have experienced a trauma like mine, the last thing you want is to be alone. I had spent my life to surround myself with people in the hope not to ever be alone, but now I can't look you in the face no one, or almost.

I a

I was looking at effort to remember that person I was before those two weeks, now the distant past and for everyone except for me. A part of me was still convinced that I was happy before everything happened; that the popular girl girlfriend with River Donovan, the captain of the football team, was naively happy of his

life. But the truth was that before I didn't even know what it meant to live.

You do not know the desire to be alive, until you are one step away from losing everything. And now that I had lived that moment, nothing seemed to me the height of despair in which I had tried.

I didn't know if he had abused me, I had left to run to the doctors, the procedure to detect its traces, and I had permission to reveal to the police, but it was the only thing that I had wanted to know the answer. Why didn't remember, and I found that it was simply better not to know. In any case, the investigation had not yet brought to nothing, so I imagined that this was irrelevant.

I turned to the shelves, picked up by a scream. The silence of the library I loved it, couldn't calm my confused memories. He made me feel in the underground, in a coffin. It seemed... right.

But there was always that spark of life that flowed inside of me, perhaps motivated by a grudge. I was convinced that it was anger towards the person that I had caused all of this, the man that was appropriate for my freedom. Yet, if scavavo deep down inside of me, until the velvet of my bones,and everything that gleamed was repugnance for myself.

In that moment, the darkness of my eyelids became pressing, the perception of reality seemed to fade more and more with each breath I take. I took the hand to the shelves in an attempt to support me, and I le myself be lulled by that oblivion in the hope to calm me, but my heart smaniava between the coasts. That feeling of anger towards myself, mixed the suffering that I have tried, the same feeling that made me understand to not be dead. To be alive, to breathe and walk and talk.

" The Metamorphosis of Apuleius". A warm voice interrupted the farneticare of my thoughts and took me aback. Sussultai, opening the eyes. "Excellent choice."

The darkness vanished along with the silence, the solitude was filled and chest to me, I calmed down. In just an instant, I went back in the ca that was my world and not just my head.

Before I could ask who it was, I realized that my hand was clinging to the wood in front of me, and the fingertips were lying needy on one of the many books. Just what bound in leather, just mentioned by the stranger. I had to look a girl in search of a book, of course, not a soul lost in the darkness that she could not stand it.

"The tale of Eros and Psyche is one of the most fascinating". Only at that point I decided to turn round to the man that was talking, but not before he took a deep breath.

Had to have stopped between the aisles of books in the see me collapse, perhaps , he thought that I was having a faint and had gone over to check. But I was served just another breath of the heart to forget every thought.