Dante
I got up early, as always when I have an important assignment, at five in the morning. I never slept that much anyway, I was getting used to only sleeping four or five hours, as far as my nightmares would allow.
I opened the window, felt the cold penetrating my lungs and so I cleared all the whiskey I drank the night before.
Since the death of my parents my dreams turned into nightmares, making me constantly fight with my inner and outer demons that had murdered my parents.
And not only because of that they had become nightmares, but because of the way they had killed them. What had left me most scarred was having witnessed it all and not having done anything to help them. It was something that I had never forgiven myself and that I carried in my conscience. Even after eight year
