The Dawn Of Sin. Valentino Grassetti

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СКАЧАТЬ on, Daisy. You can tell us anything. What's wrong with your brother?" Sebastian asked, twiddling his thumbs under his chin, pretending to be careful and concerned. "My brother's not well” replied the girl, feeling like a lost bunny surrounded by ravenous wolves.

      At that moment she would want her mother beside her, and throw herself into his arms to feel as safe and protected as when she was a child. She watched as the judges pressed on with more and more uncomfortable and indisponsive questions. Her cheeks shed tears and cursed her stupidity. She had to be strong, she had to respond to those insidious questions at a stroke. Instead, all she could do was cry.

      A flash of triumph crossed Jenny Lio's eyes… The display showed the share at thirteen and a half.

      Daisy's crying was capturing the viewers. But, above all, it would have added another thirty thousand euros for her.

      Jenny, Isabella and Sebastian exchanged a look full of satisfaction.

      On the monitor came the tips of the authors, which gradually became more and more nasty.

      Go ahead, take the snap. Let the little girl tell you what the fuck is wrong with her brother.

      Come on, come on, come on! If we get to fifteen, it's a hundred thousand euros!

      Come on Circe, get a move on. You're not doing anything to raise your voice. Hurt her. Hit her hard with a question of your own!

      Sandra wanted to complain to someone, but she didn't know where to turn. The two cameramen who were filming her followed her backstage, until she came across one of the

      writers, a bald guy like an ostrich egg with two huge headphones on his ears and a clipboard in his hand.

      "Mrs. Magnoli" he said peremptorily, "you cannot come here, you must stay in the area that has been assigned to your parents, and…"

      "Get the fuck off me, you fucker!" Sandra screamed, pointing her hands at the thin boy's chest, pushing him away.

      "Please calm down now" she begged the author in the face.

      A sturdy and discreet orderly approached Sandra. The author waved his hand to make it clear that everything was under control.

      "How can I calm down? My daughter's crying on the fucking stage!" Sandra raved, desperate.

      "A lot of kids are crying during the show. It's normal for them to get excited" the young writer replied, angry at a cameraman who wanted to film the scene. The protest of a minor's parent on air could have raised a hornet's nest of controversy. And many consumer associations and security agencies would have been happy to bring down the program, considering the presence of people like Circe and Monroe unsuitable for a protected band.

      "I warn you. Leave my son out of this" Sandra threatened to point the finger at the author.

      The bald young man knew full well how legitimate the woman's anger was. He couldn't blame her, but there was a lot of money at stake.

      If he listened to him again, he would have pocketed 20,000 euros. In fact, his name was the headline immediately after Sebastian Monroe's, and the young author had no intention of giving up such generous compensation. He warned the director to turn off the drone that was filming backstage, and had cameras six and seven, the ones on Sandra Magnoli, darkened. When he did so, he ordered the security man to escort the woman back to her family members' seats.

      Sandra reluctantly accepted, but without any intention of letting her guard down. If anyone tried to rage against her children, she would run to the stage to drag Daisy off, after insulting the judges and denouncing the program's producers live.

      "It's 14 and a half!!!!"

      The inscription flashed followed by a triumphant row of exclamation points.

      Daisy would have wanted to escape from the stage. But she was nailed there, unable to react. The jurors' questions became more and more precise, nasty and outrageous.

      There was a 30-second commercial break. The share dropped physiologically by two points.

      When the commercial ended, the ratings went up again.

      Daisy's clean face furrowed with tears leapt to the top of Twitter's topic trends.

      Sebastian looked at the display with a flash of euphoria.

      They were at fourteen and eight, two more points and the bonus of one hundred thousand euros would be triggered. With that money he could have bought top quality cocaine, and a gold piercing studded with diamonds that he already imagined dangling from the rosy nipple of Christine, his underage lover. Sebastian had fallen in love with the little girl when she was fifteen, and he never ceased to be surprised by the naturalness she showed in certain complicated erotic games.

      "Well. Here we are again in your company. We were talking about Adriano” Sebastian summed up, before adding, "Forgive me if I'm indelicate, but I was wondering how a mentally ill boy could compose such a fantastic song as I’m Rose.

      ʺNo, you're not indelicate, you're just a bastard, filthy dickhead thought Daisy, who replied by trying to keep her anger in check.

      "My brother is suffering from paranoid schizophrenia. It's a very serious illness. Besides, crazy or not crazy, I love my brother. I love him more than anything in the world. He is sensitive. He's sensitive. He's a good boy. And if I'm here, it's all because of him."

      An emotional sigh rose from the audience.

      Fourteen and nine.

      The audience was getting up again. Daisy's response, with those brief words dictated from the heart, had struck deep into the viewers.

      Jenny Lio and Isabella Larini took an enthusiastic look at Sebastian. On the monitor, the authors wrote more and more pressing messages.

      We're about to hit the big time. Come on, come on, come on! Let's make it round, so tonight we'll toast with Moet & Chandon surrounded by fancy sluts and faggots!

      Sebastian passed the palm of his hand over his sweaty brow. It was time to use the heavy artillery.

      Daisy felt his evil look on his face. She was frightened by the next question, which turned out to be a masterpiece of wickedness.

      "Did you love your father too, Daisy?"

      The girl became earthy. How could they do this to her? How could they afford to name her father?

      "Well, Daisy?"

      She didn't say anything. She tried to chase away the memory of her parent, but she couldn't. She'd never got over the trauma of suicide despite years and years of therapy.

      The show's judges, pressing her with no humanity at all, brought it all back, and Daisy relived the horror that stained her childhood. She saw her father again dangling from the tree with his eyes slit open staring into the void, his tongue dangling inert on the side of his lip, his neck stretched, his cervical vertebrae broken. He never really saw it, but he always imagined it that way.

      "Well, Daisy?"

      Daisy heard her mother screaming and calling someone a bastard. She distinctly heard Adiano's cry of pain, even though her brother wasn't there, and she thought she was going mad.

      "So? СКАЧАТЬ