Raven
@Raveneanias
Kendi halinde kendince kitaplarına âşık bir okurum sadece
Edmond Jabes'in dediği gibi: Umut belki de gelecek sayfadadır. Kapatma kitabı.
In libris libertas
Reklam
The work lights burned back to life overhead. The first- and second-years shrank away from Colborne’s unfamiliar face. He came slowly forward from his place beside the line sets, watching James as if there were nobody else in the world. “Well,” he said. “We couldn’t play make-believe forever. Are you ready to tell me the truth?”
James wavered beside me, opened his mouth to speak. Before he could make a sound I moved forward, the decision already made, made in the same instant it flashed into existence.
“Yes,” I said. Colborne turned toward me in disbelief. “Yes,” I said again. “I am.”
In that one brief moment, I actually wondered if “okay” or something like it might still be possible. But that is how a tragedy like ours or King Lear breaks your heart—by making you believe that the ending might still be happy, until the very last minute.
“Tell me you didn’t do it.” I risked a step closer, afraid to raise my voice above a whisper. “Tell me you didn’t kill Richard.”
He closed his eyes, swallowed, and said, “I didn’t mean to.”
A steel fist clenched in my chest, crushing the air out of me. My blood felt cold, crawling through my veins like morphine. “Oh, God, James, no.” My voice cracked. Snapped in half. No sound left.
His bravado sounded suddenly false. He knew what I knew. For the moment, that was enough. The play would falter on.
Reklam