Sotto la superficie delle bugie

Chapter One

The body lay in perfect repose on the Victorian fainting couch, looking more like a sleeping beauty than a victim. Detective Sarah Chen had seen enough death in her ten years with the Metropolitan Police's Special Cases Unit to know that natural death never looked this peaceful. Something was very, very wrong.

        'No signs of struggle, no marks on the body, and yet...' She leaned closer, studying the victim's face. Charlotte Mills, aged 28, was found by her roommate this morning, apparently having passed away in her sleep. Her expression was serene, almost blissful, but her eyes - those were what caught Sarah's attention. Behind the closed lids, her eyes were moving rapidly, as if still deep in REM sleep.

        "You see it too, don't you?" The voice came from behind her, rich and cultured with a slight Irish lilt. "She's still dreaming."

        Sarah turned to find a tall man in an impeccably tailored charcoal suit standing in the doorway. He hadn't been there a moment ago, she was certain of it. His dark hair was streaked with silver at the temples, and his eyes were an unusual shade of amber that seemed to shift color in the light.

        "This is a closed crime scene," she said firmly, her hand instinctively moving toward her weapon. "How did you get in here?"

        He smiled, but it didn't reach those strange eyes. "Dr. Marcus Thorne," he said, pulling out a card that somehow both looked official and seemed to shimmer slightly. "I'm a consulting specialist with the Department's new Oneiric Phenomena Division."

        "The what division?" Sarah frowned, taking the card. The moment her fingers touched it, she felt a slight electric tingle, and the letters seemed to rearrange themselves before her eyes.

        "Dreams, Detective Chen. We investigate crimes involving dreams." He moved into the room with fluid grace, his attention fixed on the victim. "And this is the third one this month."

        Sarah's mind raced. There had been two other deaths recently - both young women, both found peacefully dead in their sleep. She'd seen the reports but hadn't made the connection until now. "How do you know about those cases?"

        "Because I've been tracking the killer for quite some time." Thorne knelt beside the body, his eyes now definitely more gold than amber. "He's what we call a Dream Collector - someone who has learned to enter and steal dreams. But this one has developed a taste for more than just dreams. He's taking souls."

        Under normal circumstances, Sarah would have dismissed such talk as nonsense. But there was something about the scene, about the victim's still-moving eyes, about Thorne himself, that made the impossible seem suddenly plausible.

        "If you're tracking him," she said carefully, "why haven't you caught him?"

        Thorne's expression darkened. "Because he only appears in dreams. The physical world is my domain, but his... his is the realm of sleep. To catch him, we need someone who can walk between both worlds." He turned those unsettling eyes on her. "Someone like you."

        "Me?" Sarah almost laughed, but the sound died in her throat as memories she'd long suppressed began to surface. The dreams that felt too real, the nights she'd awakened to find objects moved in her room, the way she sometimes knew things she couldn't possibly know...

        "You've always known you were different, haven't you, Detective?" Thorne's voice was gentle now. "The dreams that come true, the hunches that turn out to be right, the way you can sometimes see how people died just by touching objects they owned..."

        Sarah took an involuntary step back. "How do you know about that?"

        "Because I've been looking for someone like you. A Natural - someone born with the ability to cross the threshold between waking and dreaming." He gestured to the victim. "Charlotte here won't be his last. There will be others, and their souls will remain trapped in an eternal dream unless we stop him."

        Just then, the victim's hand twitched, her fingers moving as if writing something. Sarah moved closer, watching as invisible words were traced in the air. Thorne pulled out what looked like an antique monocle and held it up. Through its lens, golden letters shimmered in the air where Charlotte's fingers moved.

        "Help me," Thorne read aloud. "He's coming for the others."

        Sarah felt a chill run down her spine. She looked at the victim's peaceful face, at those restlessly moving eyes, and made a decision that would change her life forever.

        "Tell me what I need to do."

        Thorne's smile was grim. "First, you need to learn to control your abilities. Then..." he held up the monocle, through which Sarah could now see strange symbols glowing all around the room, "you need to learn to hunt in dreams."

        Outside the Victorian townhouse, storm clouds gathered, and Sarah Chen, homicide detective and newly discovered dream walker, took her first step into a world where nightmares were real, and death was just another kind of sleep.

Chapter Two

The basement of the Natural History Museum was the last place Sarah expected to find the headquarters of a secret dream investigation unit. Yet here she was, following Thorne through a maze of storage rooms filled with artifacts that seemed to pulse with their own inner light.

        "The mundane world only sees what it expects to see," Thorne explained, using an ornate key to unlock a heavy wooden door marked 'Private Collection.' "To them, this is just museum storage. To us, it's the largest collection of dream artifacts in the Western Hemisphere."

        The room beyond defied physics. It stretched impossibly far, filled with glass cases containing everything from ancient masks to modern-looking devices. Floating orbs of soft light illuminated collections of bottled dreams - actual dreams, swirling like liquid mercury behind glass.

        "Your badge, Detective," Thorne held out his hand. Sarah hesitated before handing over her police credentials. He placed it on a strange device that looked like a Victorian music box crossed with a computer. When he returned the badge, it felt different - heavier, somehow more real.

        "Now you'll be able to access both worlds officially," he said. "Look at it again."

        The badge had changed. Alongside her regular police credentials, new text had appeared: 'Special Inspector, Oneiric Investigations Division.' The letters seemed to shift between English and something older, something that made her eyes water if she looked too long.

        "Before we can hunt the Dream Collector, you need to understand what you're dealing with." Thorne led her to a case containing what looked like a normal pillow. "Touch it."

        Sarah reached out hesitantly. The moment her fingers made contact, the world tilted. She was suddenly standing in someone else's dream - a sunny beach, but the sky was green and the sand whispered secrets. She jerked her hand back, gasping.

        "Good," Thorne nodded approvingly. "Most people can't pull back from their first dream artifact. You have natural barriers."

        "What was that?" Sarah's heart was racing.

        "A dream fragment from 1892. A young girl's last dream before the influenza took her." His voice softened. "We preserve them here. Dreams carry memories, emotions, sometimes even pieces of souls."

        "And this Dream Collector... he takes entire souls?" Sarah remembered Charlotte Mills' peaceful face and restless eyes.

        "He traps them in eternal dreams, feeding off their essence." Thorne moved to another case, this one containing what looked like a cracked mirror. "Each victim becomes part of his collection, their souls powering his abilities, letting him dreamwalk without natural talent like yours."

        Suddenly, the cracked mirror began to frost over. In its surface, Sarah saw Charlotte Mills' face, mouth open in a silent scream. Then another face appeared - another victim, she presumed - and another.

        "He's showing off," Thorne growled. "He knows we're investigating."

        The temperature in the room dropped dramatically. Frost patterns spread from the mirror to nearby cases, and Sarah heard what sounded like distant laughter.

        "Well, well," a voice echoed through the room, seemingly coming from everywhere and nowhere. "A new player in the game. And such interesting dreams you have, Detective Chen."

        Sarah felt something brush against her mind, like cold fingers trying to pry open a door. Instinctively, she slammed her mental barriers shut. The presence withdrew, but not before leaving behind an impression of amusement.

        "He's already caught your scent," Thorne said grimly. He pulled out a small velvet bag and removed what looked like a dreamcatcher made of silver wire and black pearls. "Wear this when you sleep. It won't keep him out entirely, but it'll stop him from stealing your dreams while you're still learning to defend yourself."

        As Sarah took the dreamcatcher, her fingers brushed Thorne's, and suddenly she was hit with a flash of his dreams - centuries of memories, battles fought in realms of sleep, and a profound sense of loss that made her gasp.

        Thorne withdrew his hand quickly. "Your abilities are stronger than I thought. We'll need to work on your control."

        "What are you?" Sarah asked directly. "You're not just some government consultant, are you?"

        Before he could answer, an alarm began to sound throughout the facility. One of the dream bottles had turned black, its contents writhing like smoke.

        "He's hunting again," Thorne said, already moving toward the exit. "Someone in the city has just entered their last dream. Are you ready for your first real case, Detective?"

        Sarah touched her new badge, feeling its power hum under her fingers. "Do we have time to save them?"

        "If we're lucky, we might catch him in the act. But remember - in dreams, he's incredibly powerful. One wrong move and you could lose your soul."

        As they rushed from the dream archive, Sarah caught one last glimpse of the cracked mirror. In its surface, she saw her own reflection smile back at her with eyes that weren't quite her own.

        The hunt was about to begin.

Chapter Two

The basement of the Natural History Museum was the last place Sarah expected to find the headquarters of a secret dream investigation unit. Yet here she was, following Thorne through a maze of storage rooms filled with artifacts that seemed to pulse with their own inner light.

        "The mundane world only sees what it expects to see," Thorne explained, using an ornate key to unlock a heavy wooden door marked 'Private Collection.' "To them, this is just museum storage. To us, it's the largest collection of dream artifacts in the Western Hemisphere."

        The room beyond defied physics. It stretched impossibly far, filled with glass cases containing everything from ancient masks to modern-looking devices. Floating orbs of soft light illuminated collections of bottled dreams - actual dreams, swirling like liquid mercury behind glass.

        "Your badge, Detective," Thorne held out his hand. Sarah hesitated before handing over her police credentials. He placed it on a strange device that looked like a Victorian music box crossed with a computer. When he returned the badge, it felt different - heavier, somehow more real.

        "Now you'll be able to access both worlds officially," he said. "Look at it again."

        The badge had changed. Alongside her regular police credentials, new text had appeared: 'Special Inspector, Oneiric Investigations Division.' The letters seemed to shift between English and something older, something that made her eyes water if she looked too long.

        "Before we can hunt the Dream Collector, you need to understand what you're dealing with." Thorne led her to a case containing what looked like a normal pillow. "Touch it."

        Sarah reached out hesitantly. The moment her fingers made contact, the world tilted. She was suddenly standing in someone else's dream - a sunny beach, but the sky was green and the sand whispered secrets. She jerked her hand back, gasping.

        "Good," Thorne nodded approvingly. "Most people can't pull back from their first dream artifact. You have natural barriers."

        "What was that?" Sarah's heart was racing.

        "A dream fragment from 1892. A young girl's last dream before the influenza took her." His voice softened. "We preserve them here. Dreams carry memories, emotions, sometimes even pieces of souls."

        "And this Dream Collector... he takes entire souls?" Sarah remembered Charlotte Mills' peaceful face and restless eyes.

        "He traps them in eternal dreams, feeding off their essence." Thorne moved to another case, this one containing what looked like a cracked mirror. "Each victim becomes part of his collection, their souls powering his abilities, letting him dreamwalk without natural talent like yours."

        Suddenly, the cracked mirror began to frost over. In its surface, Sarah saw Charlotte Mills' face, mouth open in a silent scream. Then another face appeared - another victim, she presumed - and another.

        "He's showing off," Thorne growled. "He knows we're investigating."

        The temperature in the room dropped dramatically. Frost patterns spread from the mirror to nearby cases, and Sarah heard what sounded like distant laughter.

        "Well, well," a voice echoed through the room, seemingly coming from everywhere and nowhere. "A new player in the game. And such interesting dreams you have, Detective Chen."

        Sarah felt something brush against her mind, like cold fingers trying to pry open a door. Instinctively, she slammed her mental barriers shut. The presence withdrew, but not before leaving behind an impression of amusement.

        "He's already caught your scent," Thorne said grimly. He pulled out a small velvet bag and removed what looked like a dreamcatcher made of silver wire and black pearls. "Wear this when you sleep. It won't keep him out entirely, but it'll stop him from stealing your dreams while you're still learning to defend yourself."

        As Sarah took the dreamcatcher, her fingers brushed Thorne's, and suddenly she was hit with a flash of his dreams - centuries of memories, battles fought in realms of sleep, and a profound sense of loss that made her gasp.

        Thorne withdrew his hand quickly. "Your abilities are stronger than I thought. We'll need to work on your control."

        "What are you?" Sarah asked directly. "You're not just some government consultant, are you?"

        Before he could answer, an alarm began to sound throughout the facility. One of the dream bottles had turned black, its contents writhing like smoke.

        "He's hunting again," Thorne said, already moving toward the exit. "Someone in the city has just entered their last dream. Are you ready for your first real case, Detective?"

        Sarah touched her new badge, feeling its power hum under her fingers. "Do we have time to save them?"

        "If we're lucky, we might catch him in the act. But remember - in dreams, he's incredibly powerful. One wrong move and you could lose your soul."

        As they rushed from the dream archive, Sarah caught one last glimpse of the cracked mirror. In its surface, she saw her own reflection smile back at her with eyes that weren't quite her own.

        The hunt was about to begin.

Chapter Three

They arrived at St. Bartholomew's Hospital just as the emergency lights began to flash. Sarah followed Thorne through corridors that seemed to blur at the edges of her vision, her new badge somehow clearing their path without ever being shown.

        "Room 307," Thorne said, his voice tight with urgency. "Young male, admitted for minor surgery, slipped into an unusual coma during recovery."

        The patient, David Parker, age 23, lay perfectly still on his hospital bed, his eyes moving rapidly beneath closed lids. Just like Charlotte Mills. But this time, something was different - the air around him rippled like heat waves over hot asphalt.

        "He's still in the process of taking him," Thorne said, pulling out what looked like an antique pocket watch. "We can follow if we're quick. Are you ready for your first dream dive?"

        Sarah's heart pounded. "What do I need to do?"

        "Take my hand. Focus on the patient. Let your consciousness slip between the moments of reality." Thorne's eyes began to glow that strange amber color. "And whatever you see in there, remember - dream logic is real logic in that world."

        Sarah grasped Thorne's hand and looked at David Parker. The world tilted, twisted, and suddenly...

        They were standing in a hospital corridor that wasn't quite right. The walls breathed slowly, the floor was made of flowing water that somehow supported their weight, and the ceiling was a swirling mass of constellation maps.

        "His dreamscape," Thorne explained, his voice echoing strangely. "Every dreamer creates their own reality. Look."

        Down the impossible corridor, a figure in a doctor's coat was leading David Parker by the hand. But the 'doctor' was wrong - his shadow moved independently, reaching out with grasping tendrils towards other dreams that floated past like soap bubbles.

        "The Dream Collector," Sarah whispered.

        As if hearing his name, the figure turned. Sarah's breath caught. His face was a beautiful mask of shifting features, never settling on one form, but his eyes... his eyes were endless pits of swirling dreams.

        "Ah, the new dreamer," his voice was like silk over broken glass. "And my old friend Marcus. Still trying to police the dream worlds?"

        Thorne stepped forward, and Sarah noticed his appearance had changed in the dream. His suit was now made of living shadows, and wings of dark light stretched from his shoulders. "Let him go, Collector. You've taken enough souls."

        The Collector laughed, the sound causing the hospital walls to crack, leaking golden dream-light. "Taken? Oh, Marcus, you still don't understand. They give themselves to me. Show her, David."

        The young man turned, and Sarah saw his eyes were glassy with bliss. "It's beautiful here," he said dreamily. "All my pain is gone. All my fears. He takes them all away."

        "By taking everything you are," Sarah found herself saying. She took a step forward, instinctively reaching for her police badge. In the dream, it transformed into a shield of pure light. "David, this isn't real healing. It's theft."

        The Collector's face rippled with anger. "You dare interrupt my collection?" The corridor began to twist, reality bending around them. "Let me show you what happens to those who interfere with my work."

        Suddenly, the floor beneath Sarah liquefied completely. She started to sink, but instead of water, she was drowning in dreams - thousands of them, each containing a fragment of someone's stolen soul. She saw Charlotte Mills dancing endlessly in a ballroom of mirrors, saw other victims trapped in perfect moments that had become eternal prisons.

        "Sarah!" Thorne's voice cut through the chaos. "Remember - dream logic! Make your own rules!"

        Dream logic. Sarah closed her eyes, focusing on her years of police work, of protecting people, of solving puzzles. When she opened them, her badge-shield had transformed into a sword of pure thought.

        With a cry, she slashed through the dream-flood. Reality reasserted itself - or at least, this dream's version of reality. She stood on solid ground again, facing the Collector.

        "Impressive," he purred, but she sensed uncertainty in his voice. "You're stronger than the usual dreamers Marcus recruits. Perhaps we could make a deal..."

        "No deals," Sarah said firmly. She could feel her power growing, reshaping the dream around them. "David, look at what he really is. Look with your heart, not your fears."

        For a moment, David's eyes cleared. The Collector's beautiful mask slipped, revealing something ancient and hungry beneath. David screamed, pulling away from the creature's grasp.

        The Collector snarled, his form shifting into something monstrous. "If I can't have him willingly..." Shadows exploded from his body, reaching for David.

        What happened next seemed to unfold in slow motion. Thorne spread his dark wings, shielding David. Sarah's sword of thought became a net of light, trapping some of the shadows. But the Collector himself simply... stepped sideways, vanishing into a door that appeared in the air.

        "Sweet dreams, detectives," his voice lingered behind. "We'll meet again soon. After all, Sarah, your dreams are particularly... appetizing."

        The dreamscape began to dissolve. Sarah felt Thorne grab her arm, pulling her back through layers of reality. Then...

        They were standing in the hospital room again. David Parker was awake, gasping, but alive and whole. A nurse was rushing in, responding to his sudden revival.

        "We saved one," Thorne said quietly. "But he'll be angry now. And he'll come for you."

        Sarah touched her badge, still feeling echoes of its dream-power. "Good," she said grimly. "Because I have some questions for him about Charlotte Mills. And about what you really are, Marcus Thorne."

        Thorne's expression was unreadable. "All in time, Detective. For now, you need to rest. Tomorrow, your real training begins."

        As they left the hospital, Sarah could have sworn she saw her shadow move independently, reaching for dreams that floated just beyond the edge of sight. The world would never look quite the same again.

Chapter Four

Sarah's apartment looked different when she returned that night. The shadows seemed deeper, more alive, and ordinary objects cast reflections that didn't quite match reality. The dreamcatcher Thorne had given her pulsed softly in her pocket, responding to the changed way she now saw the world.

        She was exhausted but afraid to sleep. The Collector's words echoed in her mind: 'Your dreams are particularly appetizing.' Instead, she spread her case files across the coffee table - photographs of Charlotte Mills, the other victims, and now David Parker's medical records.

        A soft chime from her badge interrupted her concentration. The metal had grown warm, and when she touched it, words appeared in that strange shifting script: 'Archive. Now. Emergency.'

        The museum was different at night. Sarah's new badge led her through doors that hadn't existed during her first visit, down stairs that seemed to descend far deeper than the building's foundation should allow. She found Thorne in a circular room she hadn't seen before, surrounded by floating screens of light that showed various dreamscapes.

        "We have a problem," he said without preamble. "The Collector's attack pattern has changed. Look."

        The screens shifted, showing a map of the city overlaid with points of light. "Each light is a dreamer," Thorne explained. "The blue ones are normal dreams. The red..." He gestured, and several dots pulsed an angry crimson. "Those are nightmares being actively shaped by outside forces."

        "He's attacking multiple targets at once?"

        "No." Thorne's expression was grim. "He's leaving traps. Dream-snares. Anyone who falls asleep in these areas risks being pulled into a constructed nightmare. He's trying to overwhelm our ability to respond."

        Sarah studied the pattern of red dots. "They're forming a shape... a symbol?"

        "A summoning circle." A new voice joined them. Sarah turned to see an elderly woman emerging from what appeared to be a door made of starlight. Her eyes were milk-white, but she moved with absolute certainty.

        "Sarah, meet Dr. Eleanor Price, the Archive's keeper," Thorne said. "And yes, she's blind in the waking world, but in dreams..."

        "I see everything," Eleanor finished. Her unseeing eyes fixed on Sarah with uncomfortable accuracy. "Including what our friend the Collector is truly planning. He's not just taking souls anymore. He's building toward something larger."

        She gestured, and the room transformed around them. They were suddenly standing in what looked like a vast library, but the books were made of dreams, their pages flowing like liquid memory.

        "Every dream ever archived is stored here," Eleanor explained. "Including the oldest nightmares of humanity. The Collector isn't just a thief - he's trying to wake something that should stay sleeping. Something we locked away centuries ago."

        She pulled a book from the shelf, and its pages burst open, projecting a scene of ancient horror - a time when the boundary between dreams and reality was thinner, when nightmares could walk in daylight.

        "The Last Nightmare," Thorne said softly. "We thought it was safely contained, but if he completes that summoning circle..."

        A sudden tremor ran through the Archive. One of the red dots on the map had grown larger, pulsing violently.

        "He's starting," Eleanor's voice was urgent. "Sarah, you need to see something before you face this." She pressed her fingers to Sarah's forehead, and suddenly...

        She was in a memory. A younger Thorne stood with a woman who looked remarkably like Sarah herself, facing down a shadow that threatened to devour the world. The woman - another dream detective? - sacrificed herself to help seal away the nightmare.

        "Your mother," Eleanor's voice echoed in her mind. "She was one of us. Her sacrifice helped lock away the Last Nightmare, but the Collector has never stopped trying to free it. And now he's found you - her daughter, with her power."

        The vision ended abruptly as another tremor shook the Archive. More red dots were pulsing on the map.

        "Why didn't you tell me?" Sarah demanded, turning to Thorne.

        "Because I promised her I'd keep you away from this life," he replied, pain evident in his voice. "But now the Collector knows who you are, and we're running out of time."

        "The summoning circle will be complete at the next new moon," Eleanor added. "Three days from now. If the Last Nightmare wakes..."

        "Then we stop him before that happens," Sarah said firmly, though her mind was reeling from the revelations. "How do we break these dream-snares?"

        "It's dangerous," Thorne warned. "Each one is a trap designed specifically for dream walkers. If you're caught..."

        "Then you'll just have to watch my back," Sarah said. She touched her badge, feeling its power respond. "Where do we start?"

        Eleanor smiled, her blind eyes somehow twinkling. "First, you need to understand what you truly inherited from your mother. It's time you learned about the true history of the dream walkers - and why the Collector fears your bloodline above all others."

        As if in response to Eleanor's words, the books around them began to glow, their pages rustling with the weight of secrets about to be revealed. In the map above, the red dots pulsed like a countdown to catastrophe, and Sarah realized she had less than three days to master powers she never knew she had.

        The true game was about to begin.

"La giovane nonna è saltata!". Le grida della servitù si alzarono.
Jessica sentiva solo dolore, come se i suoi organi interni venissero strappati ...... vagamente, vide la donna in piedi alla finestra, piena di compiacimento: sua suocera Helen Scott!
"Michael Black, aiutami ......" Disperata, il suo primo pensiero fu ancora lui.
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Ma solo Jessica sa di amare Michael Black da dieci anni, ed è la sua anima che ama, non il suo status di "giovane nonna"! Ora, questo decennio d'amore sta per finire.
Il sangue le sgorga da sotto la testa, le macchia i vestiti, le si annebbia la vista, ha un occhio nero, è completamente svenuta.
......
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Questa voce familiare fece irrigidire leggermente il suo corpo. In un istante, tutto quello che era successo prima le si affollò nella mente e le sue dita bianche afferrarono con forza la trapunta!
In passato, anche se lui era freddo, lei era stata avventata come una falena sulla fiamma. Tuttavia, quando lui le aveva fatto firmare i documenti per il divorzio e Helen l'aveva spinta giù per le scale, si era resa conto che non aveva più bisogno di essere disperata per questo amore.
L'amore non corrisposto, finito senza lasciare traccia, l'aveva svuotata di tutto e l'amore nel suo cuore si era da tempo trasformato in amarezza.
Il( )sujoS toDn,op aebra duroB We saTlRuRtPòW deTbLolmenteé: "&ExS XméaWrittkol,T ciaZo"d.
Questo suono fece storcere leggermente la bocca a Michael Black, e anche le sue tempie seguirono il pulsare "improvviso". Il suo sguardo cambiò leggermente e sbuffò: "Stai giocando al gioco del salto del suicidio?".
"Mi crederesti se ti dicessi che mi hanno spinto?". Jessica alzò lo sguardo, fissando direttamente il sarcasmo che sgorgava da lui.
"Pensi che ti crederei?".
Leqi psoLrrKiHseX amawrameRntet ei PsRollesvò l'aénRgóolno! detl(la XbocIca, bqduel zvbiAsNoÉ WpaGlljiTdo Scome sCeD fMo,ssje XtlrnaJspGa!rente $e pJien!oI !dgi kauRtoViMroMni$aq, e Psetg.retwamAeRntve d(is!s!eD ngel swuo, c^uForcel: JeGssUicfa,( a)vrjeGstLiY doavuutqoR sYapere éche SquaOlYsiaNsmiH co(sas tu (dica io spqiegqhdin,m kè_ rtPuSttBoQ intuItTile&.
Una goccia di lacrime scivolò silenziosamente giù, lacrime calde come il fuoco bruciarono la sua pelle ......
Jessica sopportò il dolore del suo corpo, aprì gli occhi rossi e non ebbe più il coraggio di guardarlo.
In quel momento, si udirono dei passi, un alito freddo che si avvicinava passo dopo passo, tutta la luce di fronte a lei fu coperta dal suo corpo alto. Poi, una diagnosi fu lanciata davanti a lei.
"ÈH uind pecMcato ch_e Ndopo tutXtZiA qhuestris &anzni txu aCbóbiaN pasUsJactkoi tant.iv rgwuaDi, NmBaw iasllba fin.en sezi fiTnita iKn nunX ÉbozAzo*loG!i".m lIlG suo) (voltoi sQcVuroX ieA orr$iSbilmebnptem Bble$ltloO Kervax fréedgdoW wep .inXseSnsTiIbjiplye.
Jessica fissò le fredde parole sulla diagnosi: cinquantasei giorni di gravidanza precoce, aborto spontaneo completo.
Tremava mentre prendeva la diagnosi, il sottile pezzo di carta sembrava pesante come mille pezzi d'oro, e le brevi parole e frasi erano come la punta di un ago, che trafiggeva la parte più tenera del suo cuore.
Era incinta?
AévezvxaI pFens_aItCo dFi eÉsOshere sHtQaWtza iprZreSgaolare,t *mTaS nvon, si KeDraS rresa coCnFto di ^essSereÉ inncint_ab! Ergak _iqnScinGtaS diz as(uoX figlÉio,y msa &soléo' pTerL cijnbquanta_sMeniW giorniF, CuDn LbrevZe e fYrFaugHilAe cIiénRquva$n)tams'eiR gsiSourFni!
In un istante, le lacrime le rigarono il viso come un argine. ......
Piangeva, le spalle tremanti, l'uomo di fronte a lei era ancora indifferente, come se stesse assistendo a una tragedia autogestita.
"Jessica, giochi abbastanza? Questa bambina l'hai uccisa!".

È lei la responsabile di questa tragedia? Questa è la sua bambina, come può abbandonarla senza cuore ...... Non può davvero sopportare questo dolore!
Jessica soffoca, sentendosi presa in giro nel suo cuore per tutti questi anni!
"Sì, hai ragione, ho finito di recitare, non voglio continuare. Non merito la tua fiducia e non merito il tuo amore, quindi tutto quello che è successo oggi è colpa mia!".
CVhiuZse gli occ^hViJ,W rin*gJoiramndIo dQifspweirHat.aZmaenMtye lre lWacLrimbe,É qiXlK FcuzoWreV che) zerWa_ ^pieUno d_iQ Ss$peróanzda' qgwrazpiée Dakl suoV caloKrDe,d m,a che OaplH Fmohmkento eDrXa $pienVop fdAiR drolÉokr.e.(
Respiro profondo, quando gli occhi pieni di lacrime si sono riaperti, è stato rosso e gonfio da spezzare il cuore, le dita sottili afferrano strettamente il lenzuolo, il corpo trema.
"Ma anche se è colpa mia, quella persona che ha ucciso la mia bambina, non la lascerò mai andare!". Jessica sollevò la coperta, estrasse l'ago dell'infusione, quasi disperatamente si precipitò all'esterno della stanza.
Helen, il boia che l'ha spinta giù dal terzo piano, facendole abortire e perdere il figlio!
JeZssiPcaD Uscopzpo(rtvò til$ doBlpore), Ds'i plrecipi^t(òI al CpiDanxoP bdci MsotDto, vide sHe*leln_ le bCTaCthderi(nVec in ^sIaLlont!toh ,czhBe MrbidevanoQ ce sHcJhrerxzNanvRaAnoL,G rsi pNrezcipiótòr (subtitÉo _dheénptéro!
"Sei tu! Hai ucciso il mio bambino! Sei tu la responsabile!". Jessica strappò la tazza da tè dalle mani di Helen, la sbatté sul pavimento e la afferrò più forte che poteva!
"Qualcuno mi aiuti! Aiuto!" Helen è scioccata dal comportamento folle di Jessica e urla terrorizzata!
Jessica la afferra per il colletto e le chiede in lacrime: "Ho già firmato i documenti per il divorzio, perché non mi lasci andare? Perché sei così crudele ...... Perché fai del male a mio figlio!".
Catahpergin'e*, cChFe. UsiN na.sNcondeóva sIpaTv_enUtataw,y LviOde MiZcqhsaeXl chked ds*tavaa$ sVcretndweOndo OailI upuiaénNoO udih Fsottro e mgMriwd'ò, hiómdme_dwiZat$amemn,tHeó: "DMichHaeDld! OPoWoo.L.c.m.n.). .sótaK sper ucrcIidhere TmPiIas maXd)reL!"K.V
"Jessica, che diavolo stai facendo!". Michael vide Jessica afferrare Helen, fece rapidamente un passo avanti, le afferrò il polso sottile e la strattonò via.
Jacqueline non rimase ferma per un attimo, quasi cadde a terra, Michael la tenne stretta, lasciandola a malapena immobile. Aggrottando le sopracciglia, disse freddamente: "Smettetela di scherzare!".
Sciocchezze?
"MÉi&cha&eli,h lo Asafir cheh sóeDib satXatat stum, uMnwa Kmawd_rCeP noÉbile _e* laÉmbobreGvolWeq, (aZ gspéiJnLgGermi gHiùm pdVawl PterzQov pianoW .cDong le tuxe stkeOsLsxe )ma'nil, fcacTecnUdo ldelb VmMasleH a nosftro fcigjlio, eT oaróaW Édici cVh'e( s^tpoV sIcUhéerzaaJn.droX?".* aJ_essicaA Wpu!ntòY il& Sdito cboónXtdroz WHmeIlen, MquUevgliV .ockchi óun teFmpvo$ ilimVpViadci e.ran,oz oras fcUolme Mceónere morVta ..s.S...$
Michael ascoltò le parole di Jessica e le sue sopracciglia si irrigidirono.
Helen si raddrizzò i vestiti messi in disordine da Jessica e iniziò subito a difendersi: "È una sciocchezza, Jessica, sei davvero a bocca aperta! Hai firmato i documenti per il divorzio, perché avrei dovuto spingerti giù dalle scale? È illegale!".
Poi, Helen si rivolse a Michael: "Michael, non puoi fidarti di questa donna!".
"bS'ì,w !mamJmaq Pnon* fare&bÉbe mOaYih Xu&nax céosa deSly g*en_erCe!! AQdueUllAoQ chfen JessivcaJ mi hHaw CfCattóo !cirn,queó Tantni Tf.a, lG'haiH XdidmmenAtAicQato? LeWi& mi o,dhióaP,é me odiUa lva Mmka_mmCap,T cKosnì oQra, s$tvaC YdisMsecmóiBnYaJnZdoU RprFonvke quadndnoL *pxuÉò!"a.O
Catherine era l'amica d'infanzia di Michael e il braccio destro di Helen, quindi ovviamente doveva difendere Helen nella situazione attuale.
Helen annuì: "Sì, sapeva che tu eri buono con Catherine, così ha cercato di farla sparire dal mondo; il suo piano è fallito, e lei ha sfruttato il matrimonio d'affari per sposarti con successo, ed è entrata nella nostra famiglia da diversi anni!".
Poi, Helen ha aggiunto: "Dopo la morte di sua madre Annabelle, l'azienda di famiglia è stata controllata da suo padre e dalla matrigna, ha perso la sua dipendenza, così ha firmato l'accordo di divorzio, ma non ha dimenticato di inventarsi uno spettacolo di salto da un edificio per suicidarsi, da un lato, può usare il bambino nel grembo materno per conquistare la simpatia, dall'altro, può ottenere una grande somma di denaro per compensare, e in terzo luogo, mi ha incastrato, e ha provocato il rapporto tra nostra madre e nostro figlio! "
"JxeFs.shi!ca, sFeJi daHvdv,erRo) OuncaJ sehr(pet,D cnorsYac tiW hviBen'e* DinU ymNengtney! NHóai deMt.tno Dchew 'tig hwo) shpuiDntoX Cgiùv dvallJeS GsYcgaólTeé,m d.o^ve sono le p.rKomve?ó MmogstruamGi slMes wp.r!ov.e&!"u.i I_l) voltoC rdJi( DHe(lYein ^è paDrrabbi)aAtow, cToprse qlNaK _pTofsinzioLnew cdJeKlB pLettok, gélpin docéchi, vqu$asiU nkonF Priepscon'o a regg,ereq!U
"Mamma, che ti prende! Catherine, vai a prendere la medicina!". Catherine si precipita al fianco di Helen, la aiuta a sedersi e poi le accarezza dolcemente il petto, per aiutarla a placare le sue emozioni.
Jessica osservò le loro potenti accuse e accuse e, quando si trovò di fronte a Michael, aveva gli occhi rossi e scosse la testa.
Cinque anni prima non aveva fatto del male a Catherine, non era stata una prepotente in casa di Michael, e ora non aveva piazzato delle prove, non aveva usato il bambino per ottenere compassione e non li aveva incastrati!
Les lacri_m.ez le Jssciwv,olatronAo Msil,eCnzi$osuamXentje sUuWlIlTeO IguanckeN.
Doveva spiegare, doveva spiegare, e non poteva permettersi di essere colpita di nuovo da loro!
Jessica stringeva ansiosamente la mano di Michael, la sua mano era così calda, questo calore la colpiva nel profondo, come se avesse il potere di guarire ......
Jessica sapeva in cuor suo che quella era la sua ultima speranza.

"La prego di credermi, non è davvero quello che ha detto, quel giorno ...... ho visto, è stata lei a spingermi giù ...... è stata lei! È stata sicuramente lei! L'ho visto con i miei occhi!". Jessica Davis singhiozzava, con gli occhi disperati e pieni di aspettative. Sperava che Michael Black le credesse, anche solo per una volta.
Michael Black guardò Jessica con cipiglio e la sincerità del suo volto sembrò dirgli qualcosa. Sogghignò, con gli occhi pieni di disgusto per lei.
Si voltò, allontanò con indifferenza Jessica che gli stringeva la mano .......
Non cJ'éè biZsOogóno qdi idirloz,W quewst(aé aziDon$e Fha_ LgIiàG dvettÉok tutrtOoN.
Non le ha creduto! Non importa come lei glielo spieghi, non importa quanto lei sia sincera, lui non è disposto a crederle.
Sì, chi avrebbe mai immaginato che Helen Scott, una pubblica benefattrice, fosse in realtà un lupo travestito? E chi avrebbe potuto immaginare che la gentile Catherine Black fosse in apparenza un'ipocrita?
Chi avrebbe immaginato che ......
Tgutmto cHiòt che! Hswir ópu,òZ Ipe&n^srareJ èÉ )qFuarnMtDo! sicaX vijziiosa JaeNsYs.iócaS DFatv!iQs g.*.(.&.é..
Le gambe di Jessica erano deboli, il corpo le doleva e riusciva a malapena a tenersi in piedi ......
"Jessica Davis, non voglio vederti mai più". Dopo aver detto questo, il volto di Michael Black era freddo e si diresse verso l'esterno della villa senza voltarsi.
Jessica si guardò alle spalle, barcollò di qualche passo, non riuscì più a reggersi in piedi, tutto il corpo cadde pesantemente a terra, il dolore acuto al basso ventre la colpì nuovamente, quasi soffocandola!
Helen,& cpheL p(r'ima Rf(iwngeDva *dip ueassYehrBe Ad!ezbolZe,J $si uavv^icipnò éak ^JeLsssijcPaW acoMn C$ather)iLne mdopCo( $chVe Mibcbhaefl QsAeg neÉ fub andat'o.
Le due guardarono Jessica caduta a terra e risero una dopo l'altra.
"Jessica, sei così stupida, Michael è mio figlio, che razza di figlio non si fida di sua madre?". Helen rise forte, con un'aria compiaciuta e vittoriosa.
"Pensi ancora di essere la principessina che eri una volta? Tua madre è morta, il tuo incompetente zio ha preso il controllo della famiglia Rose, tuo padre ha riportato a casa la sua amante e sua figlia, e loro tre vivono felici e contenti, quindi non c'è posto per te! Una volta eri la fidanzata di Michael, ora non hai nulla!".
JYe)ssOi_c(a ueKruan ^disJthe*sta IsXulA terrTeno fróed&do, sentZendoF Sil ddolyoÉre Za^rrzivvarrOe HcRoTmre uvn'ondóaA KaQnomalSax,t ^cWhe mle GlbaÉce'rfaTva bogniO cent,immFegtro di pIellÉeW, JcJoPmeK sbe *sRt,essQe peru inng,hQiOottDirTla cofm(pletamenMtMe.u _....s.^..
"Poverina, Jessica". La voce delicata di Catherine risuonò piena di scherno. Invece, calpestò Jessica: "Guardati adesso, sembri quel topo di fogna che tutti invocano?".
Il volto di Jessica era pieno di dolore e cercava di alzarsi.
"Un topo puzzolente vuole ancora alzarsi? Che ingenua e ridicola!". Catherine alzò una gamba e diede un calcio al basso ventre di Jessica!
"DHTiCs&s..&." uJaeHsjsiica demfi$s!eY Duna& sbo)ccc'atMa di'qabr$iVaN Nfredxdka, Cinl ÉdotlAo)rje acÉut,o naYl baxs_sVog vQentr_e_ lPaL rfPerce$ CcVaódeDrAe Va 't^erra .ancotram )unfaW volkta!
Catherine guarda l'aspetto dolorante di Jessica, finge di essere preoccupata e grida: "Ops, Jessica, mi dispiace tanto! Ho dimenticato che hai appena avuto un aborto spontaneo, il tuo stomaco deve essere dolorante, vero?".
Jessica usò le braccia per sostenersi e guardò Catherine ed Helen, due volti che avrebbe sicuramente ricordato per il resto della sua vita!
All'improvviso, un rumore provenne da fuori la porta.
"pFate&mi^ Fenztdrar$e!c CNhNe. rnTel aaJv)ete fattDoI dÉié imkiZak Cniupote?".&
Zia Rose si precipitò nella villa, vide Jessica sul pavimento ed esclamò: "Jessica!".
Fissò Helen e Catherine e urlò con rabbia: "Cosa avete fatto a Jessica! Animali cannibali, non vi basta? Pensate che dopo la morte di mia sorella non rimarrà più nessuno nella famiglia Rose?".

Helen Scott e Catherine Black fissarono zia Rose con un ghigno sul volto, per nulla turbate dall'accusa, ma ridendo in modo incontrollato!
"Zia Rose, chi altro fa parte della famiglia Rose? L'unica che è morta è Annabelle Rose, e voi siete tutte sole qui". Helen Scott sogghignò.
Zia Rose strinse i denti per la rabbia e si precipitò a raccogliere Jessica Davis che era caduta a terra.
Maé JuespsicCaX JD!avkisY anTon prziuJschi^va mad balzarósiD,l pseÉntjiva xun fyorWtZe XdioloprGeA e !spi psentìQ SsuÉbuitop duebol!e). _QCuCajndwo senJtì lai voQc(em di zia )RoVse,P cercò dÉi ÉraiSspoQnde'rSe, Hm!aa Alre bfguH tFo*lta lDam MfBobrzpaw dMih paprQllare. A p*oWco) af pocmo,a l)aa tsrua viKstba comHiMnsc)ifò Ya& ZoRffpugscarsqi Ae lnonó )riucsqcì ópOiùF Ga sPeKntDiMrLe^ lle ggFrcidóa' di XzijaV RLosce.D J.....S.
"Jess, cosa c'è che non va? Svegliati!"
"Sangue ...... sangue ......"
"Jess, devi resistere!"
ZAia RosUe vÉidje cuhe fi pPaRnItraTlqonxi óddi RJessTi,cja Davis Gekranwo DmacchHiati di$ wsXannLgue, Binld SsQuoi &voltoT iVmYpyaljlidLìó ta.l$lV'Bistiaxntte we siH )preNcXipitAò aK chiamanr_e, mil numemrAoX GdiA ,emearqgóeinDzzaé!
......
Jessica Davis ha fatto un lungo sogno.
Nel suo sogno, in luna di miele, non è più sola, in attesa dell'aurora boreale... La sagoma di Michael Black appare improvvisamente nell'oscurità della notte.
I,né Jqu.el monmen$to,. sorsrivde, ed KèP ^dolscYeM lcrome is)e avegsvsez 'lga vist.a pWiù Obelhlda ddDel Km!onPdo.
Tuttavia, per quanto bello fosse il sogno, la realtà non perdonava. L'odore pungente del disinfettante e il ticchettio della macchina la riportarono alla realtà.
Con fatica riuscì ad aprire gli occhi, con un forte dolore, per cui non poté fare a meno di inspirare una boccata di freddo ......
"Jess? Jessica?" disse zia Rose, notando il movimento di Jessica Davis e chiamandola immediatamente.
"Zija w.i...G.a.d"
Zia Rose chiese con ansia: "Jessica, finalmente ti sei svegliata! Hai dormito per due giorni, come ti senti ora? Hai ancora dolore?".
"Due giorni?" Jessica si sentiva solo stordita, cercando di ricordare quello che era successo prima.
"Sì, stavi sanguinando, ma ora si è fermato e starai bene se ti riprendi". Zia Rose tirò un sospiro di sollievo.
JeyssiCca aninu'ì:F x"Gracz'iPem,R Nzia"é.$
"Siamo una famiglia, non c'è bisogno di questi convenevoli". Zia Rose versò a Jessica un bicchiere d'acqua tiepida e, porgendoglielo, chiese: "Jessica, cosa è successo di recente tra te e Michael? Perché avete divorziato?".
Tutti sanno che Jessica Davis è così innamorata di Michael Black, dopo tanti anni di matrimonio, come ha potuto divorziare in un batter d'occhio?
Jessica non sapeva da dove cominciare, bastava una semplice frase: "Tanti anni, basta".
H,aS wamRaMtdoS jpOrxofoMnd.aQmegnteW yabbSasntanjzday, tayncuh!e la toYrRtvu'ra rhecwiproHcPaT ......j è sRuzffsicinenxtQe.
Questo bambino, non è lei con il loro amore in cambio? Jessica pensò a questo, al dolore, alla mano che toccava l'addome, alle lacrime che uscivano dagli occhi.
"Basta? Jessica, non puoi divorziare! Se divorzierai, non avrai nulla!". Zia Rose commossa: "Ti prego Michael, ti prego ...... ormai non hai altra strada, puoi contare solo su di lui!".
Jessica si bloccò, il suo cuore si strinse e chiese frettolosamente: "Che cosa è successo?".
ZiaU Ros.eS sGid rmesex cXo^ntoW cFhke .lez sucei uemoÉziloni Éer)ano Wfuóo*rSiw ^contrPollCoy, *riQvbelòk krXapidamente un sorpr&i,sCo', sMcoNsuszez Gla hteqstax Aeg dliRsUsWe:j "FN(iientée,X TnÉienQteu di Rgr^avez,W cZosaI puGò Ksuclce*dAeFre?"I.
Jessica ebbe l'impressione che lo sguardo di zia Rose vagasse, come se stesse nascondendo qualcosa. Si guardò intorno e non vide traccia di suo fratello Jennifer Davis, così chiese: "Dov'è Jennifer? Sa del mio ricovero?".
Non potendo vedere Jennifer, Jessica si sentiva sempre a disagio nel suo cuore, tirò fuori il cellulare e si preparò a chiamarlo.
"Quando zia Rose se ne accorse, la fermò immediatamente: "Jessica!".
Jess.i(caO esraj &ancqobrNa RpiFù ydxeGterrminDatVad:M "ZXiaL,P Zc'Éè q(uAaPlcOosa c_he' n_onf ,mim sYt)aHil dVi*cfexndoY, cRosaW sHtÉaq Os)uic&cÉedeéndno?K".

Zia Rose si rese conto che non poteva più nasconderlo, dopo un paio di secondi sospirò pesantemente e disse: "È successo qualcosa all'azienda vinicola, Jennifer Davis è rimasta bloccata all'azienda negli ultimi giorni e ora non sappiamo cosa le sia successo ......".
Sentendo queste parole, il cuore di Jessica Davis affondò violentemente, tremando! Quasi senza pensarci, sollevò le coperte e si precipitò verso l'esterno della stanza d'ospedale. Nel momento in cui i suoi piedi toccarono terra, un dolore acuto provenne dal basso ventre, rendendola quasi instabile. Quando pensò a Jennifer intrappolata nella cantina per due giorni, e pensò al padre bestiale e alla matrigna dal cuore di serpente, il cuore di Jessica si strinse all'istante.
"Jess, dove stai andando, fuori piove, devi riposare un po'!". Zia Rose ha visto Jessica uscire di corsa dalla stanza d'ospedale, il suo volto è cambiato improvvisamente, ha rincorso velocemente, spaventata dal suo incidente ......
IVnN aquvepsVto m.oAme_nÉtom,A Lla HT.jL. ^Cgo$nglnoXmKeYratIes èz nel beyl LmgeMzzpoY Zdi uBna rIiu!niSone dei_ diTraiMgenQtOi. *L'MaAsWsGiistenótJe óSacmG Pa^rkehrd riHcjeveX )lxa novtCigzNiZa e )guaVrqd'aN tMSiYcIhaeÉl xB,la&ck seBduGtNo sulul'a (pColwtlrona ,prhinccéi$pLaflpe*, vGuouleV QdSire quaml'cno^swa,M Kglih o*cchié Jdiy MqichaBel lBod FgyuOa&rVdhan*o(,T le lXa)bSbbra, ysoVthtiliW 'sQi maPprGownoX Pl'eHgmgerSm)entveq ye spxu^tTa^ unal Qpaarola: Q"DPì"Z.
Sam annuì e disse: "Capo, Cathy......Davis Miss si è svegliata, ma ha lasciato l'ospedale senza autorizzazione, sembra essere fuori da quali questioni urgenti......".
Immediatamente, con un suono "pop", la penna per la firma nella mano di Michael si ruppe. I rapporti dei dirigenti si fermarono e un terribile silenzio avvolse la sala conferenze. Tutti erano spaventati dal silenzio, faccia a faccia, nessuno sapeva cosa Sam avesse appena detto, che Michael fosse così arrabbiato.
Il volto freddo di Michael appariva sempre più cupo, guardava Sam con impazienza e le sue labbra sottili si aprivano leggermente: "Questo ha qualcosa a che fare con me?".
SzaDm _aynn$uì coLmprJenbdenfdóo: *"SQonxo io* cdhe Khpo( pparVlato PtroRppoS,T aper faYvcoreT Mér.a BnlNac!k m!i NperBdon_i$". iDopcoydhic(hDéI siN fuece subiwto$ *d)a tpcazr.tÉeL.^ Iv QdiiérigTeMnti^ count^inualr_oónZoR ta ,ruiVferOi,re* il lo,rog lMavoSrBoJ, noVn yohsÉaLndoé Éinsdéufg,iareh uVn haUttaimóo&.g MBa lQ'ZaCtmosfeDr,a gn^ella sal^aé conffpe)rPeQnz&e' erSar DaZnbcoirGau ép!izù thejsRa PddiC nprOimaO.H
......
Con l'inizio dell'inverno, la temperatura scende a picco e la pioggia incessante aumenta il freddo. La cantina era in disordine!
"Jennifer, sii furba e consegnaci la formula del Vino Torbido! Altrimenti sarai nei guai!". Rose White, la matrigna, era in piedi sui gradini e guardava Jennifer, che era a terra e sembrava estremamente soddisfatta di sé.
JMe)ssHi)ca glo fv(iPdie ek Cilz suaoÉ culo)rXe erca acomfe uQnG dcolwtke.lhlo.U PrJima cmhe ló'aHuthoT siR fgerTmkaKsyseO,p spinsie( blwa Npjortyiferaa e céorse, fuoKri!d
"Jennifer!" urlò correndo verso di lui, lo raggiunse per asciugargli la pioggia sulle guance, vide le macchie di sangue all'angolo della sua bocca, le lacrime di cuore gli salirono improvvisamente agli occhi. ......
In quel momento, Jennifer è in fin di vita, sdraiata a terra. Rose White vede Jessica, e la bocca si fa subito spietata: "Yo, pensavo che fosse chi è, è l'ex moglie di Mr. Black ...... non ha ragione, ora è la donna abbandonata! "
Jessica abbracciò Jennifer, guardò freddamente la torreggiante Rose White, la rabbia nel suo cuore bruciava come una fiamma ......
Séi moQrmse) il slja(bbro, ^con$ qnCoKnnc*halaSnIcYec:P X"L'UeBx mogflie etrNaQ ancheg una votltca lRaw sOtanzaQ giustUa, ribsgpXett,oI (a^ te queNstjo RpicécKolXoj Mtzrie. aasrctecndenéte' moylt'om pRiù faorte, damvvvIeJro asTpuydTorqaxtoT!X".I
Rose White sentì, la rabbia bruciava, si precipitò verso Jessica, alzò la mano per darle uno schiaffo, per darle una lezione! Ma Jessica reagì prontamente, le afferrò il polso e le diede uno schiaffo di rovescio sul viso!
Il suono dello "schiaffo" è chiaro e nitido, senza alcun ritardo!