Chapter 22Armageddon
I have no reason to go back the way I came. I descend the stairs and walk directly through the cloister, visibly battle-tested. My front door is thrown open by men with eyes swollen with anger and tears. My passage is not hindered in any way. It is evident that the order not to attack me must have arrived here as well. The only act of contempt comes from the last man I pass: he spits in my face. A gesture that contains a promise of revenge for his dead friends. I don't look for excuses, but I also know that it's not all my fault, so I return the insult by ignoring it.
I walk without looking back as I leave like an exile from those walls that had once given me hospitality and a listening ear. I feel their glances thrown at me like poisoned darts, many small nails soak
