"How are you now?" Mrs. Agosti's was suspiciously soft as she materialized out of nowhere in the evening.
"Fine," I answered, ignoring her the best I could.
"Father sent his condolence," She said. "Your cheek isn't swollen anymore,"
"Leo tended to it last night," I replied, unbiddenly remembering how stressed he was about seeing me in pain.
He can't see me in pain, isn't that what he said? Why? Seriously, why? He held me in his arms the entire night so that I wasn't scared again. How ironic was it that he was the very reason for that one recurring dream that knocked the s**t out of me? That he was the person I keep seeing? He was the one who kept coming at me. Or at least I think it's him. The person doesn't have a face. He was enshrouded in darkness. Leonardo was trying to cease t
