Wild and Violent. You Had Too Much Freedom

4. Freedom

What kind of question is that? I didn’t choose freedom.

It all just happened: first the orphanage, then the escape – better to run than endure abuse – then the streets … I’ve been living like this for three years now! What choice did I have?

At that moment, I tried to pretend that her question didn’t bother me at all, but deep down, a worry settled: what if she’s right?

“Better this than being a slave to the system and living through rose-colored glasses in a consumer society!” I muttered to the seat.

“Are you talking about me or something?”

Did I imagine it, or did she laugh? She’s definitely touched in the head.

As if suddenly remembering herself, she raised herself up on her hands, freeing me from underneath her, and took a seat next to me. I cautiously turned and sat upright, glancing warily at the cuffs hanging from the ceiling handle.

“Why do you need all this?” I finally asked hoarsely.

“I already told you – I want to help you.”

“What good will that do? You’ll help me if you just let me go and never come after me again.”

“That won’t work for me.”

I couldn’t remember how much time had passed since she chased me at the station, but her beautiful face seemed familiar. How curiously my brain works.

It suddenly dawned on me.

“I got it,” my lips curled into a smirk. “You want to work your guilt trip on me! For me,” I emphasized the word deliberately, mimicking her confident tone, “that won’t work.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“It couldn’t be simpler,” I retorted, hardly feeling confident, reigniting the conflict but wanting to expose the woman. “Better feed the birds or save the Bengal tigers – I have nothing to do with it. Don’t waste your time and energy – it won’t work.”

She looked at me carefully, and for the first time in many months I discerned not the usual disgust and disdain, but interest.

I was afraid to believe that she saw me as more than just a homeless kid stealing bags.

“You’re right about one thing: by letting yourself be helped, you’ll help me,” she said.

“You’re in the wrong place.”

“You’re not listening to me – it’s you I need.”

“You don’t know me at all.”

Indeed – I could be dangerous; I could, after all, do something to her – anything – from robbery to rape …!

“So let me get to know you.”

“You’re crazy,” I sighed resignedly, lowering my head, burying my face in my hair. “For the last time, I beg you – let me go.”

Until the very end, I resisted the growing urge to simply give in and let this freak do whatever she wanted. How bad could her conditions be – what if I, too, found pleasure in various perversions?

Maybe she’ll just ask me to urinate on her – I’ve already been offered pedophilic sodomy once … I, of course, refused – I ran away at the first opportunity – but now it’s a different matter.

My imagination was already running wild, and I caught myself thinking that, firstly, judging by everything, her proposal would have nothing in common with what I had pictured in my mind, and, secondly, for some reason this upset me.

“I’ll find you a home, you’ll be safe,” she began.

I shook my head in protest, “Don’t bother – I’m all right as I am.”

“I can buy you clothes.”

“I’m fine for now,” I shrugged.

I lied, but a pair of holey summer sneakers and an old hoodie aren’t rock bottom.

“I’ll give you money,” the stranger said with sadness in her voice.

What if I really did agree, nod, just take the cash and leave? Of course, I had no idea how much she could give a hobo, and I’ve never been good at saving anyway …

Wait! Can I just take her money?

I wouldn’t mind earning it – but I didn’t know how – or stealing it, but taking it seemed somehow unfair. Because there’s no point in her giving me money voluntarily … and I’m not a beggar.

Once upon a time, everything could have been different. Once, I couldn’t even imagine that I would be parasitizing on people like her.

“So where do we stand?” The woman in front of me pulled me out of my thoughts, staring intently at my face.

Come on, agree, agree! my inner voice kept repeating. I wanted to leave, but at the same time, I wanted to stay. What’s wrong with me?

Take the money and go! Like on TV – take the money and go.

“And you’ll leave me alone?”

How naive I looked at that moment! I was trying to fool her, but she might as well have fooled me!

I can’t trust anyone … Not even myself.

“Yes. If you take the money.”

“Deal,” I exhaled with feigned relief, watching her put her hands into the pockets of her soft, thin coat and pull out first a couple of bills, then a wad of a few more.

“Wait, just a moment …”

“Enough. That’s enough,” I said, for some reason, embarrassed.

I looked into her eyes, confused, and all my resolve vanished, leaving no trace. Where is the catch, where is it?

She thrust the money into my hands. Her palms trembled slightly – I felt it in the quick touch.

As soon as I realized it was time to leave, I swung the door open, awkwardly stumbling out onto the roadway, choosing a moment of increased traffic on the road.

So that, having chased after me, she would not have time to cross the street, waiting for the flow of cars to die down, and I would be able to get away.

Giving in to a fleeting desire to do some last shit, out of the corner of my eye seeing the woman standing next to the car on the opposite side of the road, I demonstratively extended my hand forward, and white and green pieces of paper flew out of my open hand one after another.

I immediately regretted my actions, but the little bastard inside me triumphed.

I don’t care that I risk going hungry again today if I don’t find something to eat …

Well, it was stupid, though. I shouldn’t have done it. I shouldn’t have.

5. I Want to Be Alone

Naturally, I returned to the spot a couple of hours later, having first made sure the stranger had vanished without a trace. I was lucky: one bill, unnoticed by passers-by and not caught in the wind, remained in the flowerbed among the branches of a frozen cypress.

I bought a huge burrito with it, and still had a ton of change left over. I certainly couldn’t finish the entire tortilla with all the filling, but I was incredibly greedy and hungry in front of the street food window.

And so, by the middle of the meal, I was already having trouble working my jaws, but I still shoved the food down. Just in case – who knows what might happen to me tomorrow?

It didn’t bother me that the bench in the park between West 33rd and 34th Streets – the very same one I run through time and again, getting myself in trouble – was cold and unsuitable for sitting. I sank contentedly into my inner silence – free of unnecessary thoughts and worries – mindlessly gazing at the multicolored garlands of holiday lights ahead and above me.

The burrito had already cooled, and my body began to feel the chill again: that’s how I realized it was evening. The hood pulled over my head didn’t provide any warmth, it merely obscured my vision.

It was probably because of it that I only saw someone sit down on the bench to my left at the very last moment.

That someone was the stranger.

“My other offers still stand,” she said peacefully.

I remained silent and chewed my tortilla, glancing sideways at the woman in the gray coat.

Maybe if I pretended not to notice her, she’d go away …? I unwittingly hunched my shoulders, wishing I could become invisible.

“Look at it this way. There’s probably something you truly want.”

“I want you to leave.”

Did I even say that out loud?

She sighed, but moved closer. I caught the scent of her perfume – for these past few hours, the memory of her had occasionally troubled me. I myself seemed saturated with perfume, with memories, and now I constantly felt her subtle presence.

How could I get rid of her? She no longer angered me, but her company didn’t bring me any joy either.

“What should I do to make you leave me alone?” I turned my head towards her, throwing back my hood. “You didn’t even let me eat in peace.”

“Sorry,” the stranger replied.

She said it without any pretense. Wow!

“I want to be alone,” I muttered through clenched teeth.

Or rather, not alone – I’ve always been alone – but free from strangers’ intrusive attention. I thought I wasn’t risking anything: whether she’d be offended or upset – I couldn’t care less. The main thing was to make sure she didn’t come here again – to the train station, the park, the construction site; otherwise, if she left today, she’d be ambushing me again tomorrow.

“I already told you – I don’t need anything. Thanks for lunch – but that’s all.”

“You’re cold.”

There was no question in her tone – it was an assertion, a statement of fact. I didn’t want to agree with her, even though I was visibly shaking all over, and the paper around the half-eaten tortilla was fluttering, not from the wind.

“Not at all,” I stubbornly objected.

I saw her roll her eyes and then wrap herself in the coat tighter, crossing her arms over the chest. She wasn’t wearing gloves, and in fact, she wasn’t dressed for the weather today: yesterday’s lynx coat and gloves were far more appropriate for early winter.

“Well, I’m cold. I can’t imagine spending the whole day outside in this weather,” she said gloomily, and I didn’t hear any mockery or boasting in her words.

Maybe I just didn’t want to hear it …?

“Let’s go, okay? Finish your taco burrito – or whatever you have – in the car, and I’ll buy you some hot coffee?” she offered amiably.

But I interrupted her, “No need. I don’t need anything. Just go. Or I’ll go myself.”

“Victor …”

The sound of my name in her voice literally turned everything inside me upside down. My heart suddenly felt like it was about to jump out of my chest, and, even more terrified of such a reaction, I scowled like a hedgehog.

“It won’t work.”

“Victor,” she called again, but I didn’t dare look at her – I was staring at the pavement beneath my feet.

Then I jumped to my feet, gasping for icy air.

“Will you quit it?!” I snapped at her, and she just widened her dark eyes. “I’m telling you for the last time: go away, leave me alone, or I’ll leave myself! And don’t you dare follow me!”

We were starting to attract attention again – my indignant cries had already drawn several onlookers – and, thoroughly annoyed, I threw the rest of my burrito in the trash.

Screw it, I wouldn’t have taken it with me anyway.

“Are you happy? I’m leaving! I can’t say it was nice meeting you,” I bowed clownishly, my gaze flashing angrily, noting how her beautiful face was turning pale.

What’s wrong with her?!

“Wait! Stop!” she blurted, but I had already turned on my heels, striding away.

I breathed a sigh of relief when I realized she wasn’t following.

I won!

6. Dead End

I had no more than half a mile to go down 8th Avenue, but out of habit, I took a circuitous route rather than a direct one. After passing the parking lot, I found myself in the backyard, already imagining myself curled up in the fetal position in my corner and falling into a cold, dreamless oblivion.

But my plans were not destined to come true – in one of the back alleyways on the final stretch of the route, I was surrounded by those same thugs, unhappy with my presence on their territory.

Having driven me into a dead-end street of trash bins with a chain-link fence on the opposite side, which was impossible to get over – I tried, and once, in that very same place, I was beaten unconscious by random gangsters who simply didn’t like me – they were already mocking me with all their might, anticipating the pleasure of someone else’s humiliation.

“Hey, weakling! Where’s your mommy?” one of them mumbled nasal. “It’s a shame she won’t see you now, giving head!”

They were cackling, there were four of them, and I just backed toward the chain-link fence, looking around uselessly for a way out.

There was no way out.

I wish I had that makeshift knife right now …!

“You shouldn’t have been showing off – it wouldn’t have hurt so much! Two dicks in the ass isn’t as four at once! Just look at him – he’s gone completely white!” they laughed. “All the blood went where it needed to go!”

My butt really did clench in terror; when I felt the fence at my back, I was ready to scream – out of despair. Every time I found myself in a situation where the opposing group was physically superior, I could not come to terms with the universal injustice.

“The main thing is, don’t struggle – or you’ll kick it from the strain, and fucking a corpse isn’t our thing!” one of them spat, coming closer.

He wanted to punch me in the face, but I managed to dodge it, blocking it. I couldn’t parry the second blow – his two other accomplices grabbed my arms, giving him room to get creative.

Then he hit me in the stomach with all his might, knocking the air out of my lungs, and I began to slide down the fence to the ground with a wheeze.

They lifted me up – just as roughly, to stop me from struggling – but I was no longer able to do anything. I didn’t count the blows, couldn’t tell if it was the same one hitting me or each one in turn.

As I lay on the pavement by the fence, having lost my balance yet again, someone’s boot kicked me in the ribs. I hoped that would be the end of it … Oh, how naive I was.

Buckles jingled and clothes rustled.

“Okay, kiddo, now take your pants down.”

I squeezed my eyes shut. Rough hands shook me, lifting me by my hair, pushing my face into the fence, turning my back to my tormentors. The jeans were several sizes too big – they pulled them off without any effort.

I choked on silent cries, clutching the fence with numb fingers, mentally praying for this whole nightmare to end quickly.

I’d never been fucked in the ass before – and, like a fool, I naively believed that such a thing would never happen to me.

How wrong I was …

Suddenly their mocking laughter died down, and even the one who had pinned me against the fence, before he could even begin his evil deed, turned around.

I just pressed myself against the fence, with my eyes tightly closed, hearing strange squeals and wheezing, the sounds of falling bodies.

“What the heck?!” the thug standing behind me boomed, letting me go. “Who the hell are you?”

There was no answer – I only made out the momentary sounds of a struggle behind me, and a similar gurgling sound of a cut throat followed by the sound of a fallen body.

I found the strength to shake off my stupor, overturning and sliding down the fence, no longer clinging to the wire mesh. With my pants down, I sat down on my butt, gasping for breath from shock and pain.

The woman in the soft gray coat, stained with fresh blood, stood opposite me, looking down at me. Her dark eyes glistened in her pale face, and she looked more like a she-devil than a spoiled New York fashionista.

“I was just about to give you a few tips on self-defense,” she cleared her throat, smiling unnaturally.

I moved my lips, but couldn’t immediately say, “Did you—”

She threw something that looked like the knife I had threatened her with in the afternoon onto the ground next to the body of my attacker with his fly unzipped.

“It was long overdue. Pricks. Those two are definitely still alive, but if one doesn’t call a doctor, they’ll kick it in a couple of hours.”

“How did you—”

“How did I find you? How did I manage to deal with them?” She got even closer, leaning towards me, and I instinctively recoiled, pressing myself against the fence. “Don’t think about it. Don’t think about anything.”

I suddenly burst into tears. Bitterly, without embarrassment. I smeared salty tears and blood across my face, swallowing metallic-tasting saliva, and howled at the top of my lungs.

I felt her stroking my hair, lifting me by the shoulders, but seeing my unwillingness to get up, she allowed me to sit back down onto the pavement.

I cried, both from hurt and relief, and simply because it was allowed to cry.

“Everything will be okay,” I heard the gentle voice at my temple. “Listen to me, everything is okay. You’re not alone. You’re not alone.”

I grabbed her coat with my fingers, not realizing why I was pulling her down, and the woman was forced to kneel next to me to keep her balance.

As soon as my sobs stopped being so frequent, she carefully removed her fingers from my head and ran her palms over my shoulders, going lower to my waist.

“Come on, don’t sit around without pants – you’ll catch a cold.”

I came to my senses, half-conscious, and couldn’t immediately figure out what to do. Pants? What pants?

But the stranger was already lifting me up, supporting me under the arms, and I, pushing my feet into the ground, not without effort, stood upright.

She quickly put the missing piece of clothing back on me, and I didn’t even bother to help her. I had no time for embarrassment at that moment.

“Can you walk?” she asked, looking into my eyes.

I wasn’t sure, but I nodded.

“Hold on to me,” she commanded, taking my arm, but her gaze immediately returned to my face. “Hey, just don’t pass out.”

I nodded again, feeling nausea rising in my throat: the smell of fresh blood, the near-rape, the pain from the hematomas that had surged with renewed intensity …

“Victor, if you’re going to throw up, you better warn me—”

But I couldn’t get a word out: my stomach had decided to push out all its contents. Barely having time to turn to the right, I, supported by the stranger, bent over and vomited onto the pavement, while she carefully brushed my hair away from my face, which was covered in cold sweat.

Surprisingly, I got better quickly, and straightening up, I leaned my back against the ill-fated fence, closing my eyes for a few seconds.

I was about to start demanding that she leave me alone again, but I changed my mind. For some reason, I didn’t want to part with her. Not yet.

“I’m sorry about your coat,” I muttered hoarsely, opening one eye.

She chuckled, dabbing my face with a napkin. I grabbed her hand, continuing to do the same, but this time on my own.

“Well, yeah, its designer couldn’t have imagined something like that.”

Soon the napkin had turned into a shapeless, scarlet lump, and I tossed it into the far corner.

“We have to go. I have ice in the car. And more napkins,” the woman smiled faintly, gently touching my elbow.

It was excruciatingly painful for me to move, but I tried not to show it.

7. Thank You

Again the streets, again the stares of uncomprehending passers-by, hurrying about their business in the deepening dusk and city lights – her car was within walking distance.

She was following me after all!

When we reached the car, I silently climbed inside and lay down on my side on the back seat sofa, taking the least painful position.

Even if I didn’t have broken ribs, I was pretty bruised.

The stranger sat in the driver’s seat, rummaging through the first aid kit, the engine running and purring pleasantly in my ear.

“Apply cold. To your face and wherever else it hurts.”

“It’s alright,” I said hoarsely, not moving.

She sighed, leaning over the back of the seat, finding herself waist-deep in the gap between the chairs.

“Don’t act brave in front of me. Take it, please.”

I took two hypothermic packs from her hands. One went straight to my cheekbone.

“Did I understand correctly – the right side?”

I had no choice but to nod, hiding under the corner of the cold pack.

“Just lie down on it. Can you do it?”

“Uh-huh.”

Huffing with concentration, I stuffed the cold under my side, casually adjusting my hoodie and T-shirt over my sunken stomach.

I realized that my previous bruises, which had not yet healed but no longer caused discomfort, had become a source of concern for the stranger.

“If I suggest going to a doctor, you certainly won’t agree, will you?” she asked, biting her lip.

“I won’t. It’ll pass quickly. Everything’s fine.”

I really wasn’t worried. Maybe just a little … And that’s because I’d taken up her anxiety.

“I’ll take you to my place,” she informed me.

“No.”

“Pardon me, but I’m not asking you now,” the woman said, returning to the usual position in the seat.

“I’ll run away,” I responded halfheartedly.

“Of course,” she sighed, turning around. “Just get better first.”

“I’m fine!” I flared stubbornly, raising my head and glaring at her. “Don’t start this conversation. It’s pointless. Or I’ll think you staged this on purpose to get me into your car.”

She had no answer to that – she looked at me, bewildered, for a few seconds, and then turned away.

“Excuse you!” the stranger snorted.

“You’re probably expecting words of gratitude from me—”

“I’m not – I didn’t do it for your ‘thank you,’” she shrugged, completely naturally, as if it were for a hankie or a cigarette.

“Thank you.”

She turned her head in my direction, looking at me with that strange gaze, and smiled.

I couldn’t help but smile back.

My jaw immediately hurt, but I barely noticed.

“I’m offering you a deal. You live with me for a week – do whatever you want, use whatever you want, no one will chain you to a radiator. And if you don’t like it, if you want to leave – you go back to your gangsters.”

I blinked silently, unable to believe my ears, and my first thought was an absolute refusal. How could this be? I wasn’t planning on going to someone’s apartment, especially since—

“Does your husband know what you’re doing?” I suddenly quipped.

Her yellow-eyed strangler, by the way, promised to finish me off.

“No. But he’ll understand. I’ll explain everything to him.”

“I somehow doubt it …”

“Don’t doubt it,” she assured me, looking ahead through the windshield. “You’ll even become friends, you’ll see.”

“Pfft! I have no desire to make an appearance – much less be friends.”

She turned to face me again.

“So where do we stand?”

Two forces warred within me: one, perpetually paranoid and distrustful, muttered that no one – especially her, this beautiful stranger – could be trusted; the other, either wanting to finally fall asleep in a warm place or, despite everything, believed in human kindness. I had to choose which side to listen to – my life depended on it.

“I promise you,” the woman said softly, “if you agree, no one will restrict you. If you want freedom, go ahead … Just come back for the night.”

My side – and even my cheek – started to sting from the cold, and I dropped the bag onto the seat, propping myself up on my elbow and pulling out the other I’d been hiding under my clothes.

Before answering, I sighed heavily.

“I agree,” I said, as if I were diving headfirst into a pool.

Maybe that’s true – but until I start, I’ll never know.

8. It Has to Be

We pulled into the Brooklyn Bridge interchange, and I, having recovered somewhat, sat up straight, my head slightly tilted back on the seat’s headrest.

“Ugh, Brooklyn,” I said. “I thought you lived somewhere in Soho.”

I hoped she’d realize I was just making a goofy joke, and when I caught her gaze in the rearview mirror, I curled my lips into a semblance of a smile.

It didn’t work out very well, but she giggled, probably out of sympathy.

“We moved from the East Village not long ago. It’s certainly the busiest place, but Bed-Stuy is more spacious. Much more spacious,” she emphasized the last sentence, glancing at me through the mirror again.

I had nothing to say in response – I was going with the flow, distracted by the colorful lights of the city’s nighttime signs. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been a detached, independent observer, simply carefree as I moved through the streets in the car.

Perhaps, I’d never been at all.

The stranger drove confidently, not bothering me with conversation, and for some reason I wished this weird ride would last forever.

So simple – calm, warm, safe.

For the first time in a long time, I caught this almost forgotten feeling.