He leaned back against the damp slime of the...
He leaned back against the damp slime of the stone wall, wincing because of his open cutsHe closed his eyes, though he couldn't see in any case, and he thought of sunlight
It was then that he must have dozed, because he woke suddenly with a shout of pain: one of the rats had bitten viciously at his thighHe flailed about with the blanket for a few moments, but he was shivering now and beginning to feel genuinely illHis mouth was swollen and pulpy from Alberico's blow in the cabinHe found it painful to swallowHe felt his forehead and decided he was feverish
Which is why, when he saw the wan light of a candle, he was sure he was hallucinatingHe was able to look around though by its glowThere was a dead rat near his right leg and there were two more living ones, big as cats, near the doorHe saw, on chanel bucket tote bag the wall beside him, a scratched-out image of the sun with notches for days cut into the rimIt had the saddest face Tomasso could ever remember seeingHe looked at it for a long time
Then he looked back towards the glowing light and realized with certainty that this was a hallucination, or a dream
His father was holding the candle, dressed in the blue-silver robe of his burial, looking down with an expression different from any Tomasso could ever remember seeing on his face
The fever must be extreme, he decided; his mind was conjuring forth in this abyss an image of something his shattered heart so desperately desiredA look of kindness, and even, if one wanted to reach for the word, even of love, in the eyes of the man who'd whipped him as a child and then designated him as useful for two small chanel purse decades of plotting against a Tyrant
Which had ended tonightWhich would truly end, most horribly, for Tomasso in the morning, amid pain he didn't even have the capacity to imagineHe liked this dream though, this fever-induced fantasyThere was light in itIt kept the rats awayIt even seemed to ease the bone-numbing cold of the wet stones beneath him and against his back
He lifted an unsteady hand towards the flameThrough a dry throat and torn, puffy lips he croaked somethingWhat he wanted to say was, "I'm sorry," to the dream-image of his father, but he couldn't make the words come right
This was a dream though, his dream, and the image of Sandre seemed to understand
"You have nothing to be sorry for," Tomasso heard his dream-father say"It was my fault and only mineThrough all those years and at the chloe paddington handbag chocolate endI knew Gianno's limitations from the startI had too many hopes for you as a child
The candle seemed to waver a littleA part of Tomasso, a corner of his heart, seemed to be knitting itself slowly back together, even though this was only a dream, only his own longingA last feeble fantasy of being loved before they flayed him
"Will you let me tell you how sorry I am for the folly that has condemned you to this? Will you hear me if I tell you I have been proud of you, in my fashion?"
Tomasso let himself weepThe words were balm for the deepest ache he knewCrying made the light blur and swim though, and so he raised his shaking hands and kept trying to wipe the tears awayHe wanted to speak but his shattered mouth could not form wordsHe nodded his head though, over and overThen he had a thought and rolex diamond watch he raised his left hand, the heart hand, of oaths and fidelity, toward this dream of his dead father's ghost
And slowly Sandre's hand came down, as if from a long, long way off, from years and years away, seasons lost and forgotten in the turning of time and pride, and father and son touched fingertips together
It was a more solid contact than Tomasso had thought it would beHe closed his eyes for a moment, yielding to the intensity of his feelingsWhen he opened them his father's image seemed to be holding something out towards himA vial of some liquidTomasso did not understand
"This is the last thing I can do for you," the ghost said in a strange, unexpectedly wistful voice"If I were stronger I could do more, but at least they will not hurt you in the morning nowThey will not hurt you any more, chloe handbag my