Merryweather"s exit left a ghost of a conscience in the room.
“You"ve done it again,” it seemed to say.
You"ve done it again“When will you learn?” it whispered.
When will you learn“What a disappointment,” it hissed.
What a disappointment“What a disappointment you are, my boy.”
What a disappointment you are, my boyThe voice was so like Merryweather"s, but not. Despite the spectral tones, there was only one man who could say so little, yet hurt so much: my father. I searched about expecting him to reveal himself at any moment. The bruised room remained empty, though, and that was how I wished it to stay.
I dressed at speed and vacated Violante"s room quicker still. Once stood outside in the silent corridor, free of the claustrophobic purple decor, I contemplated hunting her down and ap
