The Dawn Of Sin

7

Like every morning, Greta Salimbeni entered the studio wearing one of her severe grey suits.

Dr. Salieri's assistant was able to change the general impression people made of her. Greta could appear icy, winking, surly, or sensual, all without being aware of it, as if the virtues and flaws were only in the eye of the beholder.

When she started working in the studio she was a young married woman, but disappointed by marriage. One recurring thought was that she would soon become the lover of her boss. But Salieri was in love with his wife. And a good marriage was a necessary balancing act for someone in the psychiatric profession.

Those who treated men's psyches had to maintain a private life without conflict and tension, or else they would dump their frustrations on their patients.

Greta was in love with the doctor, but she didn't want to be a second choice. This is why Salieri remained a pure and simple erotic fantasy.

Greta opened the door to let the patient in.

Adriano Magnoli entered and renewed his gaze on the porcelain that embellished the study.

"Hi, Adriano" greeted Salieri, raising an eyebrow, the concentrated expression of those who study the patient down to the smallest detail.

"I'm sorry about what happened” said quickly the boy.

"Yes. It wasn't a good time” Salieri said, crossing his arms and pushing his shoulders to the back of the chair to relieve the body, which had been immobile behind his desk for too many hours.

"You will tell me everything calmly. Sit down."

Adriano sat resting his elbows on the inlaid table. He nervously rubbed his hands, his expression full of guilt. The psychiatrist noticed some red bruises on the boy.

"I'm so sorry. But I'm better now."

"Your marks are left” noted Salieri pointing the pen at Adriano's wrists.

"If that's why, they're on my ankles too” said Adriano, raising one knee to lift the flap of his trousers and lowering one sock. The skin underneath showed a purplish bruise.

"During a crisis, it happens to attack people” noted the doctor scribbling a note with a nervous handwriting.

"I shouldn't have bitten him. But I wasn't myself."

"How long did they keep you in bed?" Salieri asked, turning on the computer.

"Two days. The straps on the bed were leather, and I got so nervous. That's why I was left with the marks."

"Three weeks in the psychiatric ward. Must have been tough, boy."

"When the pylon collapsed on the stage, I thought Daisy was impressed, too, and that's when I went out of my mind."

"Do you want to talk about it?" Salieri asked, sliding his mouse lightly over the mat, his eyes on the screen following the arrow pointing to a folder to open.

"I would, but I remember almost nothing about that night” Adriano clarified. "They say, however, that I went downstairs into the living room. Everyone was shouting about what was happening on television. At that point I became aggressive, but that's what they believe."

"So, why did you rage against the guests who were watching your sister on TV?"

"Because I saw bits of coal raining down in the room. Yes, I remember that. I threw myself at them to protect them. I wanted to prevent someone from getting hit."

"You also pushed your aunt, who fell on the floor, right?"

"Yes. Unfortunately, yes. She hit her head, but I swear I didn't want to hurt her."

"I know she wasn't hurt, except for a bump, and I know she defended you to the very last moment so you wouldn't be committed. She said you were very upset about the incident on stage."

"I don't know. I… I just know that I didn't mean to hurt anyone."

"The bite on the nurse, remember?"

"Not much. Again, I wasn't well. They wanted to take me away, but I didn't want to, and that's when the whole mess happened."

"I've seen the medication packs, you haven't been taking them regularly, Adriano. That's why the hallucinations came back."

Adriano, clumsy, nodded with an air of guilt.

"Tell me about Daisy, rather. How is she?" Salieri asked, opening the file he was looking for. He began to look at it with particular attention, half-closing his eyes and nudging his nose closer to the desktop.

"Daisy got scared. But she's strong, and she stood up for me. That's why what happened… what we saw on that stage. But I… well… God, I'm sorry, Doctor, I'm a bit nervous…"

"It's okay. We're among friends. Express what you want to say calmly" the psychiatrist exclaimed distractedly while typing with two fingers on the keyboard.

Adriano emitted a restless sound.

"I mean that man, Sebastian Monroe, should not have provoked him."

As Adriano spoke, Salieri clicked on the file that contained the boy's medical history. The man noticed something unusual. He smoothed his chin. He took a look at Adriano. He looked at the screen again and frowned at his eyebrows.

"The incident on stage. Maybe it was this thing” said Adriano, reclining his head to grab it in his hands. "This

thing that's here, inside my head. Maybe it doesn't just take root here, maybe it can take root anywhere. Maybe it's already everywhere."

Adriano talked, ignoring that he was no longer the center of Dr. Salieri's attention. The psychiatrist had put an earpiece in his ear and was completely absorbed by the computer, his fingers drumming nervously on the desk.

"Doctor, are you listening to me?" Adriano asked him with a moan.

"Sorry. I got distracted." Salieri replied to the boy as he removed his earpiece, his chest rising relaxed in a sigh of worry.

"So, you were telling me about this mysterious being” said the psychiatrist with apparent calm.

"He, the parasite, is looking for her. He's been looking for Daisy all his life… and now he's found her, you see, Doctor? Do you understand what's going to happen? No, he doesn't, because we're just getting started. Sebastian Monroe shouldn't have provoked her. That's why he ended up like that."

Adriano finished his speech shrugging his shoulders, as if to get something annoying off his chest, and put it aside. This was followed by another twenty-three minutes of conversation, in which the boy managed to put together some coherent, sometimes confused reasoning. Salieri pulled up his shirt cuff to look at the watch, a steel Rolex that needed reloading. He squeezed his thumb and index finger on the spring winding bezel, turned it in small, rapid movements until the hands moved, and said, "All right, Adriano. We're done for today. The hospitalization was a bad thing. I just wanted to see you just to see if you were feeling better. Tell your mother she doesn't owe me anything. But promise me you'll always take the medication. Keep on the five hundred milligram pills. I'll see you next week. Same time."

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