World-Wolf - (ENGLISH)

Chapter 2

It's the trauma that bothers you, the attempt to try imaging that Russovski Oilman was going Away. Away to his country.

I will go through that, I will. Boys, why am I try to deceive my mind? Who did go through a traumatic trauma? No one. Otherwise it wouldn't be called traumatic trauma.

Returning to ours tell, Sergio had revealed to me his big plan to go away from the county. Even though he didn't know, Sergio had made a scar on my skin. Fucking bastard! I would have told to him, "Sergio, you're an asshole and a selfish".

But I didn't because I couldn't know what would have happened after the meeting with him. It would be too easy to know when you're going to die and all. Thanks to someone, events don't happen into this timeline. I know, you are getting nothing from the start of the chapter. I can feel it. But I know I should go on with Russovski Oilman's account because we are just at the beginning and I suppose it's unkind reveal everything to you.

The news of the Russovski Oilman's departure aroused interest among the Crew for a fraction of second. After that fraction, Patrick, Cesare and Claudio went on talking about sexual scum. My trauma had been weighted by a new plot turn. The calloused pervert old man kicked Sergio's mother out of the house. She had to come back in Russia – Do you remember that in the county Russia meant only Siberia and cold?

So, in brief, Sergio came to say goodbye but not everybody understood his human act. No one, except me. I didn't just comprehend it. I acquired a wide angle view of the world: a shitty and unfair hole. I just pretended one week of notice. That's it.

That night ended in that way. Yes, ended. I can't find any synonym for that. I greeted Sergio. He was low-spirited. Boys, he was really depressed. It looks like he was going into one of the hellish circle created by that pervert of Dante. Then his face: he knew he was going towards the war but he couldn't do nothing to elude that. An experience you must live to get it, I swear. In the County people were accustomed to swear for any bullshit. If there's a thing that I hate that is swearing. It isn't too difficult to say 'I swear on God' while in your mind you know the thing you are swearing on is not true.

I have already admitted that I had a problematic trauma by the revelation - terms stolen from the Bible - of Russovski Oilman's departure. The fact is, I didn't get why I was caught up. Mind is a black hole, boys. A black hole.

As every goodbye, I had to greet Sergio. And I did even though I forced myself not to do that. However, custom tells you to do it. Who dares to rebel against it? Who does, it is an unbalanced person.

Boys, I can describe the moment, literally: Sergio trembled not because he was on a Mountain Bike at minus three degrees with just a jacket. No! Sergio trembled because he didn't want to leave the lousy County; he found his place in the world. I would like to see you in his shoes. I don't know what I would do. Besides, I'm still looking for my shitty place in the world.

I greeted him, I grabbed his hand, I hugged him even though he smelled of damp. Do you know the typical smell of those houses which have never been irradiated by the sun? Sergio's scent wasn't too nice, but he was still Russovski Oilman for me.

This is what happened: A normal night fucked up my mind. It wasn't too normal, to be honest.

About the tough woman who I have talked about. That night she had been waiting for me. That rapacious was convinced that I hand't noticed her right eye opened into the darkness.

I just made a run towards my bed but I didn't sleep for the whole night. Boys, it was impossible. Just when I was about to close my right eye, you see the badassest accounts about Russovski Oilman. Now he was a homeless with long dirty hair. In another now, instead, he was an outlaw who took part of communist affairs and all this kind of stuff; after that he was a skeleton.

When I told you I didn't sleep the whole night, it was a lie. I slept sort of one hour but I ended up at school, anyway. I needed distractions.

Back at that time, when I used the metro I had an aversion towards human race. I didn't want anyone to walk up to me, but more important I wasn't willing at all to meet up some acquaintances. If that had happened I would have been forced to take my headphones off. Those gadgets can do the difference between be a loser or a badass in the County. After , shaking off from you shoulders the loser reputation can be very changeling. I don't care too much about the topic, though.

But look at Stan Duffy Duck, Topped Head or whatever nickname chosen by society to remind him how he was an insignificant nobody. It was risky to be caught in an intimate moment. You gotta be always in alert.

Focusing on Russovski Oilman: he would have come back in his motherland. Among the Crew the concept of being in alert was amplified. You know how? How the shark's sense of smell: up to one km of distance for detecting a tear of blood.

Anyways, the high school in that lousy county was a mixed between a herd of chimpanzees and a herd of howler monkeys. Boys were proud to stand for the first herd, and girls, instead, loved howled from the men bathroom. In my class, there was a girl, Louise Shepard. She loved entertain my trinket.

Actually, I didn't like her too much; we were only friends. We used to tell each other everything, like everything. For instance, once Louise had gone into a disco and you know when you go into places like that you finish to swallow several litre of alcohol; so this Louise had met a dude which she liked. He had offered her a ride and she had accepted. Would like to know the happy ending? The dude had pulled over the car on a fucking motorway and Louise had sucked his dick.  You might call her whore, boys, but Louise wasn't a phony. She just admitted that her main hobby was the dick.

"You look down". Louise told me. She was a genius of the empathy art subject. And me, I have always been a little fox at covering my weakness, but with Louise Shepard even the President of United State couldn't get away. Hers sentimental moment was included into pre-messaging testicles part. At the head of the class, the teacher went on explaining something.

"Nothing, Louise. Same bullshits." I said, but I had never fucked with her. She carried the-blonde-hair-and-blue-eyes girl flag. She personified that stereotype and she enjoyed being it as well. I gotta admit that she was too stubborn and I was already sick because she was insisting to ask me what was wrong.

"I said nothing!" The teacher scolded me. And do you want know what I did? I told her to go right to the hell. Everyone started laughing. She, though, the teacher - famous also among us as Carroty because of her reddish hairs - reported me on her file. Whereupon I told her I didn't give a shit about the reporting. Boys, was she upset now. She yelled like a cartoon character. The whole class kept laughing in front of her face and then she shot nice prejudices-teacher thoughts at every single head. The conclusion: the lesson had been interrupted, Carroty left the room repeating that we were abomination and Louise ended her hand job for my only pleasure.

But neither a hand job helped me to eradicate Russovski Oilman from my mind. I was getting addicted to him. Sex was always sex, but if I have to say the truth, I'm still a virgin. If you live in the County, you can't confess you're a virgin at sixteen years old. It means throwing yourself out from the top of the Everest. Boys, neither your brother needs to know the truth. Have you had sex? You're an alfa man, you saw more pussies than dudes who participate at shitty reality TV. This is the version to memorize. I memorized it.

AUTHOR'S SPACE

Chapter two. This translation can be better, but it is an attempt to master the language

Luca 💙