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I am tangled in nightmares. I have never felt love. I have felt love so storngly it strangles me, I am Borgia. The Borgia are my enemies. I am Assassin. The Assassins are my enemies. Cesare is my father. Perotto is my father. Perotto. I am Perotto. I am Giovanni. I am lost.
I am drowning in a sea of letters. I must write. I have not learned how. Words I cannot understand cover every surface in blood red ink. I try to write over them with my quill. The blackness of my ink is lost in scarlet pools.
Papà strikes me with his blade! Cesare stabs me in the back! I cry. I fall. I want to be free of him. I want to kill him. I will get into trouble. I will cause trouble for Lucrezia. I must run to Zia. Everything for Lucrezia.
Men in white hoods surround me. Am I here to teach them? How? I am a child. Are they here to teach me? My students. My executioners. My future?
I know too much, but I know nothing. I am innocent, yet wracked by guilt.
I chase an object of power. I have no faith that it will work. I know how it works. It will heal him. It will heal me. It will remake me.
My dream threatens to burst. It is too much. Will I ever wake? Will I ever sleep again?