Chapter 60

When Neguinho started with the car, the music on the radio turned on, and the sound was of an extremely aggressive funk, but I'd rather listen to that than feel that silence hovering over us. He accelerated absurdly, and I thought it was for me to feel afraid.

But I didn't even care. My eyes were focused on my fingers crossed on my lap. Both hands were injured, and a little blood flowed from my own skin. But most of that blood that stained the palm wasn't mine.

I leaned my head on the bench, closing my eyes to try to deal with that terrible feeling of losing my head slowly. I didn't like that. I didn't want to have lost patience with a teenager, when I had put up with everything with wisdom and caution. It wouldn't take long for the outbreak to reach the ears of the police.

At least he would stop thinking that I was Ravenna, since the shooter of the owner of the favela was much more agile and precise, than a police officer in an outbre