just for me

Rina Zante

I pulled the tapestry aside and ushered myself into the genesis of my problem. La stanza Nera.

Unlike the other two times I'd been here, I was indifferent. The echo of my footsteps didn't make me quake inwardly; neither did the insane width here pushed me into agoraphobia.

I set the bucket on the floor and started working.

I'd changed: nothing moved me anymore. The past—to put it correctly. I had now become immune to the unwanted flashbacks and the hurt that came with them.

I worked all the way to the end of the room, down to the dining and the corridor next to it. A feeling of an ominous presence fell on me, but upon looking up, I found no one. Just the living room holding my gaze.

However, I couldn't be fooled. Someone had been watching. This wasn't my mind making pranks, because Vincenzo had long proved to be a psycho. I could bet on anything precious to me that he'd been here, watching.

Which brought anger in its darkest shade to my heart. I could kill him. If gi