"I'm not going to tell you," Pirlo spat, mixing blood and words.
"You think that now, but in a while, you'll change your mind," Diego spoke calmly as he opened a toolbox. "We have a lot of time together ahead, no need to rush to talk," Diego continued as he took a pair of pliers from the box.
"Fucking white rat, you better kill me, because I will kill you when I can," Pirlo retorted with fury.
Diego approached calmly. With one hand, he took Pirlo's chin and, in a quick movement, grabbed his nose with the pliers and twisted it.
"Let go, damn it!" Pirlo screamed with all his might as Diego twisted his nose playfully.
"We're going to have a lot of fun, Pirlo," Diego expressed sympathetically.
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Diego opened his eyes, ending the dream, and fixed his gaze on the hospital ceiling. He exhaled calmly.
"Pirlo must be on the move. I need to hurry to make adjustments," he murmured calmly while still lying in the hospital bed.
He had spent the night under observation on the doctor's orders. Diego didn't resist or make things difficult; he was mentally exhausted and the rest would do him good. Moreover, visitors would be arriving soon.
Knocks on the door.
"Mr. Crosa, may I come in?" asked a voice from the other side.
Diego, distracted by the knocks and the question, responded calmly, "Yes, come in."
"Permission," said the nurse as she approached the bed. Her name was Romina and she had been in charge of monitoring Diego's health status and evolution since the early morning when the shift changed. It was the second time they spoke since on all her previous visits, Diego had been asleep.
"I just spoke with the general doctor. You will be discharged soon," Romina commented while reviewing some documents she had brought with her.
"Very well, I already feel better, so it's good news that I can leave," Diego said calmly while still lying down.
"I'm glad you're okay, but keep in mind to seek psychological help. You've just survived a traumatic event. I don't want to re-victimize you, but while you were sleeping, you seemed to be trapped in some nightmares," Romina expressed with concern. In her night visits, she had noticed how Diego slept uncomfortably, twisting and making noises; he was clearly having nightmares related to the attack.
"I will keep that in mind, miss. Thank you for your concern."
"There's nothing to thank, it's my job. I'll leave then. I hope you stay healthy, and if you can, take my advice seriously."
"Agreed," Diego responded as he watched Romina leave.
"Gallardo should be arriving soon," murmured Diego as the door opened again.
"Permission," Gallardo said as he entered the room. "Good morning, Mr. Crosa. It seems you're about to be discharged. I'm glad you didn't have any sequelae," Gallardo expressed cheerfully as he took a chair from the room and sat next to Diego.
"Good morning, sir," Diego responded calmly.
Gallardo, with his gaze fixed on the window, contemplated the buildings while silence reigned in the room. Time passed, and what were moments felt like hours as neither of them made a sound.
"I like the view from this room. You can see the congress building and Independence Square from here. It's a really nice view," Gallardo explained without taking his eyes off the window.
"Yes, it's a good view, sir," Diego responded, feigning discomfort and naivety.
Gallardo nodded, took his gaze away from the window, and fixed it on Diego's black eyes. Currently, everything in front of his eyes was nothing more than an ordinary civilian; his face was simple, decorated with a few wounds.
"382," Gallardo commented coldly while fixing his gaze even more on Diego.
"382? What's that number, sir?" Diego responded with doubt and naivety.
"It's the number of victims. 382 of the 383 people who were on that train," Gallardo explained as he brought his face closer to Diego's, stopping about 10 centimeters away. "Explain to me how it's possible that only you survived. Explain to me how it's possible that you have nothing more than simple wounds, while the remaining 382 people were destroyed. Explain this to me, Mr. Crosa," Gallardo demanded slowly and fluently, but with a cold and dark tone.