"Ty Drago - Bitter Reflections" - читать интересную книгу автора (Drago Ty)

He laughed softly; a grim chuckle. "By the time I was in my teens, mirrors had become my
obsession. Every free moment was spent in my room, seated on a stool by a mirror on my
wall, staring at my reflection, trying to understand it. My mother considered the whole thing
shamefully narcissistic. My father saw it merely as a waste of time. They lectured me
constantly, and on several occasions emptied my room of mirrors. But each time they did, I
would secretly collect them again."

Benedict's face darkened and he squeezed his eyes shut, as if to drive away a terrible
memory. "Then one day, alone in my room, I finally found the 'inside' of my reflection. Only, to
my horror, it was not a prize but a prison. It... stole me... the REAL me... away from my body
and trapped it in my reflection. What was left was pure intellect, without pity, without guilt...
without conscience."
He shook his head miserably.

"I can't tell you how many years I watched what 'he' did in my absence, this shell of a man I'd
left behind: the death of my parents, the ruining of countless people. For years I struggled to
get back to the surface of the mirror. Each time 'he' looked at his reflection... at me... I came
a little closer. It took years... years... but I finally made it."

His pressed his palm against his chest.
"Whole again," he said, his voice a whisper. "Finally."
Loretta listened, and tried to tell herself that she didn't believe. "What... happens now?"

A look of grim determination spread across Benedict's face. "Now there will be changes. I...
can never make full restitution for the crimes that were committed in my absence. But I have
money and I have time. I'll do what I can."
He looked back to Loretta. "I'm happy to say that I'm no longer in need of your services,
Doctor. Please forgive my previous threats. I have every confidence in your professional
ethics and your promise to keep this matter confidential."

"Yes..." she said hesitantly. "Yes... thank you."
"Please bill me for your time." He escorted her to the door. "You'll forgive me if I don't show
you out, but quite frankly I don't know this house very well. If you call for Dickerson, I'm sure
he'll help you."

He offered her his hand and she took it, noticing right away that something had changed
about his handshake. At first she took it to be his grip, which was suddenly firm and
confident. "I┬╖ I'm not sure I understand what's happened." she said.
He grinned. "Do you really want to?"
She blinked and then said: "No. Not really."

"Good night, Dr. Capinelli. Thank you."

"Good night, Mr. Benedict."
He winked; a quick, conspiratorial gesture. "Call me Larry."

Then she left him.

Dickerson returned her make-up mirror and showed her out. She had to dash through the
rain across the driveway to her car. It wasn't until she was maneuvering her way down the