Wild and Violent. You Had Too Much Freedom

Maybe it’s not all that bad, and I really will find something good?

When she stopped at one of the typical four-story buildings, opposite a stone stoop with cast-iron railings leading to a tall semicircular door, and turned off the engine, I was reluctant to leave the car. I knew I had to keep following the stranger, but I didn’t even try to hide my unwillingness.

I couldn’t imagine what awaited me next: at the very least, the creepy guy with amber eyes, to whom I would have to justify myself … At the very most, the collapse of my controversial expectations.

The woman gently nudged me toward the entrance, holding my forearm and letting me pass slightly ahead. She opened the door, and I unwittingly held my breath, as if I were being led to execution.

Maybe it is so …?

“Stella, where have you been? I was starting to wor—”

But the man didn’t finish, staring at the duo who had just entered – a dirty street rat and his own wife in the blood-stained coat. He stood on the narrow staircase leading to the first floor of the apartment, as if towering above us, and I felt small and pathetic.

I wanted to disappear. I wanted to turn around and leave.

We gawked at each other for a few seconds; there was a pause, broken only by the sound of cautious breathing.

“Erik, this is Victor, he’s going to live with us now. Victor,” she said to me, squeezing my arm above the elbow tighter, still not letting go, “this is Erik.”

“What does all this mean?” asked that same Erik, dumbfounded, without moving from his place. “What happened? Is this … blood?!”

“I’ll explain everything to you later. Everything’s all right. It’s not my blood, don’t worry.”

Her voice was trustful and soft, and like a hypnotic suggestion, it was meant to calm the man who widened his eyes. Her words only partially worked – he kept studying our appearance with distrust.

“Are you insane?!” he finally blurted out, taking a step forward. “This is—”

“Yes, I know what it looks like. Trust me, this is how it has to be,” she insisted stubbornly, fearlessly meeting her husband’s eyes.

Then she walked forward a little, pulling me along with her, touching my shoulder to guide me as I walked by inertia up the steps past the ferocious strangler.

“And now we are in urgent need of the bathroom. I’ll take you there,” she said to me, and I just trailed like a ram.

When I turned back, having reached the first floor, before I had time to look around, I caught the man’s withering gaze – he continued to stand in place close to the end of the stairs, clenching his fists.

I couldn’t tell whether I’m glad or not that I’ve become the cause of discord between them at that moment.

9. Hot Chocolate

She led me to a half-empty room on the second floor. They live quite well, after all: a second bedroom given to a stranger boy picked up off the street – just like that!

“It will be your room,” the stranger said calmly. “For now, there’s only a bed and closets, but no one expected that— Anyway, if you need anything, just let me know.”

I nodded slightly, still not having time to come to my senses. I didn’t know how to react, and so I didn’t react at all.

“Now let’s go take a shower. I’ll wash your clothes, of course, but I don’t think you’ll need them. Tomorrow we’ll pick out everything you need—”

“No need,” I replied with an old saying.

“Don’t think about it, go to the bathroom.”

The woman opened the door leading to a spacious room, and I felt uneasy again. This can’t be …

“I’ll bring you some towels and clean clothes now – just until tomorrow. They’ll be a little too big for you, but—”

I sighed, suppressing the objections that were once again welling up inside me.

Just accept everything she gives you, my inner voice advised. I had no other choice.

“I’ll be quick. Feel free to look around.”

“Yeah, of course,” I nodded automatically, still not taking my eyes off the reflective marble floor.

As soon as she left the bathroom, hurrying away from the room reserved to me, I decided to raise my head and glance around.

Hmm, not bad – there’s a shower, a bathtub, and perfectly clean and shiny plumbing.

And I – so dirty and ugly. I was frightened by my reflection in the cabinet mirror – a bulging-eyed street rat with a green face, smeared here and there with dried blood, a purple bruise on his left cheek, and shadows around his transparent gray eyes and under his cheekbones.

Apparently, I was so lost in my own thoughts that I didn’t notice her appearance – I shuddered and didn’t immediately turn around to face the stranger standing a step away from me.

She no longer had her coat on, and she no longer looked like a victim of robbery, although fatigue had left its mark on her beautiful face.

“I’ll leave the clothes here,” she quickly placed the things she’d brought on the shelf by the wall. “I won’t disturb you … I’ll visit the room a little later.”

Was it just me, or is she a little nervous?

“It’s all right,” I assured her, still standing motionless in the middle of the bathroom.

She seemed to want to ask something, but hesitated.

“I’ll be either in the room on the other side of the stairs or in the study next door,” she said, waving her hand in that direction, and I nodded.

I quickly memorized the layout of the corridors – at least briefly – wherever I managed to pass, habitually preparing my escape routes in advance. I hoped the information would be useful only for good purposes, but who knows …

“If you’re worried about me being able to handle it, don’t be. I’m not a savage, I know what shampoo and soap are, I know how to turn on the water,” I said indifferently.

She ran her hand over her face, clearly embarrassed.

“That’s not what I meant, but … yes, good. I won’t bother you,” she repeated, and it even seemed to me, she was trying to convince herself not to take any further action.

“Uh-huh,” I nodded, watching out of the corner of my eye as she quickly left me, closing the door behind her.

Yeah, now was the hardest part.

In the bright electric light, I saw the real state of my clothes. Having thrown the dirty laundry into a pile, I eagerly climbed into the bathtub under the hot stream of water, mercilessly trying to wash away the self-loathing along with the top layer of skin. My body was sore and aching, but with masochistic pleasure I scrubbed myself with a prepared washcloth, making everything squeak.

It took a long time, but it was worth it.

I washed my hair three times before I was sure it would no longer look like a dirty mess.

But I still felt uneasy: I dried myself with a white towel, hesitantly – and with discomfort – and put on clean clothes that smelled faintly of fabric softener. The shirt and pants were indeed too big, but not so big that I’d drown.

I realized with surprise that Erik – the stranger’s yellow-eyed husband – was almost as thin as me. Only perhaps a little broader in the shoulders and a little taller – I had to fold up my jeans. The man was over six feet tall, and I barely reached his chin.

Just like my stranger.

For some reason, thinking about her made me smile. Shyly, as if hiding from myself.

I thought I wouldn’t mind being friends with her – simply because I’m tired of not trusting anyone.

Yeah, for that reason alone.

Carefully opening the door fogged up from the inside, I stepped into the room. Feeling the smooth parquet floor beneath my bare feet, I slowly approached the bed, already made with fresh linens.

I sat down on the edge of the bed, turning my whole body towards the window, fighting the urge to close my eyes.

“… of course, I understand everything,” the voice of the one whose shirt was now on my shoulders came from the floor below, “you wanted to get a cat, but this isn’t even a homeless cat!”

“What kind of comparisons are you making!”

“I couldn’t even imagine that— Dark Heavens, you brought a boy from the train station who tried to steal your bag to our home!”

“Everyone sees what they want to see – he’s not just a boy from the train station!”

“Really? What am I missing? You’re hiding something – so tell me.”

A pause. Even I found it painful.

“You know perfectly well that I won’t hide anything from you. I’ve already explained it to you – it’s intuition, fate, whatever!”

“You’re crazy.”

“Maybe,” she responded, her tone lower. “Maybe.”

“And how do you expect me to react to all this? ‘Yes, of course, some kid will be living in my home now – go ahead, I don’t mind’?!”

“Erik—”

He snorted angrily, taking a few steps – I could practically feel his abrupt, tense movements with my skin.

“Do you remember what I told him? Do you remember how I promised that if I saw him again, I’d kill him?!”

Well … She seemed to be playing some kind of game, absolutely not taking into account the tense situation. Who could guarantee he wouldn’t rush up here to the second floor and strangle me?

He has one more reason now.

“First of all,” she began in a calm voice, “everything is different now. Secondly, forgive me for reminding you, but you know perfectly well what it’s like … And thirdly, you don’t have to keep your word – it won’t be the first time.”

He nearly choked on his indignation, nearly swallowed his protest that was threatening to burst forth.

As indifferent as I was to their relationship, it felt like an unfair blow to the gut.

“Erik,” she spoke quietly – as if she were standing right next to him, “just trust me. It has to be this way. For my sake, please, just believe me.”

He didn’t reply right away.

“I hope you know what you’re asking for,” he said, his voice much more humble. “Okay.”

After a while, she came up to my room, and for a moment her footsteps fell silent in front of the closed door. I imagined her taking a deep breath before knocking.

How strange – after all, I’m the guest in this home … And she’s asking permission to enter the room.

“Yes,” I responded hoarsely, sitting motionless on the bed, still in the same position.

“How are you?” she asked with a curious smile, finding herself inside, seeing me, pretty refreshed after my shower.

“Fine.”

I wouldn’t say it was great – I was worried about both their recent conversation and the uncertainty of what would happen next.

“Should I get you a hairdryer?”

I shook my head, pushing my damp hair off my forehead.

“Nope.”

Come on, talk me into it. I suddenly developed a taste for this unusual game, where I run away from her care, and she, as the saying about harm goes, forcefully causes love to me.

“Sure?” she narrowed her eyes, and the barely noticeable smile on her beautiful face made me chuckle.

I’m playing with fire.

The hairdryer would have been just right – I was getting cold again, and I was unable to dry my hair thoroughly.

“I’ll go get it, and then you decide,” she said, turning on her heels to leave, but then, as if remembering something, she looked back at me. “Ah yes … Do you like hot chocolate?”

I blorted nervously, but then, more reservedly, I replied curtly, “Yes.”

And she disappeared through the door.

When the stranger brought the hairdryer – less than half a minute had passed – I humbly thanked her, and as soon as she left, I got to work.

The warm air and the dull buzzing in my ear made me sleepy, and when I finished, I lay down on the bed, face down in the pillow, pulling my legs up to my stomach.

Stella – I remembered her name through my half-sleep before I realized she was in the room – walked carefully to the nightstand, placing something that sounded like a mug on the surface.

“Are you asleep?” she asked quietly, but I decided not to answer.

I wanted her to think I really was asleep. Or maybe I was, and this was all a dream …?

Even without seeing her face – she was standing behind me – I felt her smiling, barely audibly letting out air through her nose.

She turned off the light and covered my back with the edge of the blanket, on top of which I curled up in the fetal position.

For a few minutes after she left, I lay motionless with my eyes closed, afraid to frighten away the unusual and strange moment: I’m warm, I’m safe, I’m … home.

Maybe not in my own home, but—

I untangled myself from the blanket, sat cross-legged on the bed, and then drank the hot chocolate Stella had brought me. It wasn’t as hot anymore, but somehow the warmth still spread from my stomach throughout my body.

Then I curled up in the corner of the blanket as if nothing had changed and closed my eyes.

Somewhere in the distance, the avenue, parallel to the street where the apartment was located, was humming, the wind was lightly hitting the glass, the man and the woman on the opposite side of the floor were peacefully discussing some of their affairs, and I, indeed, without noticing it, fell into a peaceful sleep.

For some reason, I dreamed I was a tabby cat, who, like all cats, had four paws, ears, whiskers, and a tail. I couldn’t learn to burp hairballs, and the amber-eyed man chased me off the chair, but I still – out of spite – climbed onto the brocade cushions, ripping out threads with my claws and leaving traces of my presence.

Then someone lifted me into their arms – so much so that my head spun – but the warm, cozy embrace was my favorite cradle. I hid my sharp claws and purred, inhaling the scent of familiar perfume, tickling the woman’s neck with my whiskers.

Deep down, I knew I was not a cat at all, but I had to play the part to stay in her arms a little longer.

10. Story of My Life

I woke up not from the cold, as usual, but from the glare of the sun on the opposite wall that fell through the wide window.

I instantly realized where I was; I immediately remembered what had happened.

My body insistently demanded movement, throwing off the blanket as if forgetting yesterday’s beating. First, I went to the bathroom – to use the toilet – washed myself, and soon I was opening the door, intending to go down to the first floor.

I had no idea what time it was, but judging by the sounds, the day had long since begun for those who had taken me in.

I bumped into the yellow-eyed man emerging from one of the wide openings into the living room, opposite the stairs leading up. To my surprise, he reacted calmly to me, but didn’t miss the opportunity to look me up and down with an appraising gaze.

“Want breakfast?” he asked.

A lump stuck in my throat, and I just nodded.

He probably thinks I can’t even talk.

The stranger named Stella emerged from the kitchen – I had correctly guessed the direction when I first got in this home – with a laptop in her hands.

“Good morning, Victor,” she said, smiling so that my palms sweated in a fluster. “How are you?”

“Hi,” I replied, glancing sideways at her husband.

Either he was replaced, or he really did change his mind during the night, since I don’t see mortal danger in his face.

Erik, in his turn, moved from his place, heading towards her, and when they found themselves on the same level, they exchanged meaningful glances, barely touching shoulders, lingering their gazes on each other a little longer than usual, and then he walked on without turning around.

He loves her. They’re a very beautiful couple.

“Just a few more minutes, and we’ll go to the kitchen,” the woman said, looking at me.

“As you say,” I shrugged, following close behind her.

We found ourselves in the living room; as I recalled the image I had glimpsed earlier, I noted how perfect everything was in their home, down to the last detail.

Even a book of an unfamiliar writer, carelessly left on the coffee table, a cushion leaning aslant against the back of the L-shaped sofa … Apart from that, I was left to silently marvel at the spacious room with its tall windows, the TV panel that took up the entire wall between the two openings, and, of course, the main object of the living room space – the black lacquered grand piano at the right wall.

It seemed minimalistic, but life-affirming.

Stella put the computer on the sofa, turning to leave, but noticing my interest in the musical instrument.

“Can you play?” she asked.

“No, of course not,” I replied, confused. “I never had a chance.”

However, I spent hours watching the pianist in the waiting room – this was at Grand Central – dreaming that someday I would repeat everything he did live, and not just in my head.

“But I can play the guitar,” I blurted out after a pause, not wanting to lose face.

It came out kind of awkward. Whatever.

“Great. Erik has a guitar – if you want, you can play for us.”

It seems to me, that same Erik has everything – perhaps, I’m starting to envy him.

“Shall we go?” Stella lightly touched my elbow, and I obeyed, walking back into the corridor and into the kitchen.

The smell of fresh toast, fried bacon, and a bunch of other edibles whetted my appetite, and I involuntarily swallowed. The woman sat down on a high stool at the bar table, encouraging me to follow her example, and I eagerly settled in opposite, glancing at her husband, who was doing some witchcraft over the coffee in a cezve.

“See, I’m a lazy bum, and he’s making me breakfast,” the stranger chuckled, propping her chin on her hand.

“You mean, when you cook for me, I’m a lazy bum?”

Erik’s eyes widened as he turned to look at her, and his feigned sternness still wasn’t convincing.

“That’s not what I meant,” she spread her hands, and he smiled, turning away.

What an idyll! I lowered my head, hiding my eyes in the hair that had fallen across my forehead – to my shame, I was beginning to resent their well-being.

“What are your plans for the day?”

I didn’t immediately realize she was addressing me and shrugged, confused.

“Plans? I hadn’t thought about that.”

Erik, meanwhile, had served almost everything on the table, and silence hung in the air, broken only by the sound of plates being placed on the counter.

The stranger clearly wanted to say something, but played it safe, and I kept staring at the wooden napkin stand.

She took a sip of coffee, and I copied her.

“Why did you—” she suddenly lifted her chin, looking up at her husband, who was sipping coffee but not even bothering to take the seat next to us, “… cook for two?”

“I’m not hungry,” he shrugged, just like I had a minute ago.

“Erik.”

“I won’t have time, don’t start,” he protested peacefully.

“You’re incorrigible.”

“Yes, I am,” he grinned wryly.

And then he leaned towards her, kissing her on the lips, but only with a short touch, taking her attention to himself, wrapping one arm around her waist. The stranger’s breath caught in his seemingly innocent gesture.

“I love you,” he said in a velvety voice in her ear, obviously reserving the intimate phrase only for the two of them, but I have a very good ear.

I might not have wanted to hear it, but I had to.

“I love you too,” she smiled at him, lifting her head, but he had already pulled away.

“I have to go,” he responded, devouring her with his eyes, taking a few steps aside. “See you later.”

He addressed the latter, surprisingly good-naturedly, to me. I nodded, and a moment later the man was already out of the kitchen, quickly putting on his coat and heading down the stairs to the exit.

As soon as the door slammed behind him, Stella sighed and bit into a piece of toast with a loud crunch.

“Story of my life,” she said, the corners of her lips lifting slightly, but I couldn’t tell if she was in a good or bad mood. “Enjoy your meal, have at it, otherwise everything will get cold.”

11. Doll

I quickly forgot about her husband and the nightmarish events of the previous day – we were simply chatting, sitting in the spacious kitchen, gobbling up breakfast, discussing various little things.

Yes, at first, I only cautiously glanced at her beautiful face from under my bangs, but she made it clear to me that I could relax and not wait for permission to take this or that dish from the table.

Soon I was no longer so convinced that we had nothing in common – sometimes it seemed to me that I had known her for a very long time.

Moreover, I was amused by how happy she was when I ate two candies from the glass bowl on the counter – my stomach simply wasn’t capable of more after a full breakfast.

And to my own surprise, I agreed to the offer to buy me clothes. I knew she probably saw me as a doll to dress up and take out for walks, but selfish interests prevailed.

What’s so bad about letting her play parent?

I answered my own question – I didn’t like the answer – but still, the pros outweighed the cons.

Naturally, I would have preferred not to participate at all, but Stella insisted I go with her.

As she claimed, I still have to choose the shoes myself … I am sure that this is another of her tricks, and I was prepared for the fact that she is taking me along with her to buy my favor.

Why she needs this – I have no idea … But who can understand her, this strange woman?

I was afraid that she would drag me by force into the brand-name boutiques at which the car stopped, and when once again I refused to get out of the car, hugging myself and frowning, the stranger leaned slightly towards me sitting in the front seat.

“What’s bothering you?”

Well, I couldn’t tell her I’d feel out of place under the salespeople’s gaze. I think I overestimated my courage.

“Just give it a try. Play a role, have a good time, let loose. Come on, it’ll be fun. You have a good imagination – think of something that will be enjoyable.”

Oddly enough, it worked on me.

Who would dare judge a rich mom’s capricious brat who came with the sole purpose of humiliating everyone in the sales floor?

“Your clothes are complete crap!” I drawled, making a dismissive gesture with my hand, and the stranger burst out laughing.

“That’s a different story!” she exclaimed, smiling broadly. “And most importantly, stay yourself. You’re beautiful,” she concluded, and before I could respond, she swung the door open and left the car.

I followed her, already focused on the upcoming amusement, but her words stuck deep in my head.

I couldn’t tell if she was serious or joking.

It wasn’t immediately clear where to start. I tried on basic items – jeans, T-shirts, hoodies, solid colors but nice to the touch – with pleasure. For some reason, I didn’t feel like racking my brains, so I chose almost everything black.

The clothes were well-made, the size was right, and they fit perfectly – I didn’t look like a ragamuffin. Yes, I didn’t believe the reflection: the only thing it showed reliably was the bruise on my face. The rest – the glowing eyes and the strangely smiling mouth – were clearly someone else’s.

I myself was amazed at how quickly enthusiasm and courage took over from the eternally hunted state and agitation.

“Don’t you want other jeans?” Stella asked me, standing on the other side of the curtain – I wouldn’t let her into the fitting room.

“Nope,” I blurted out capriciously, and I realized too late that it would be exactly like with the hairdryer.

“But come to think of it?”

I zipped up my fly and pulled down my T-shirt. No, my arms might be skinny and bruised – but apart from that, there’s definitely something to it!

A hand suddenly appeared through a gap in the curtain, holding a pair of jeans.

“Try them on!”

As soon as I took the clothing from her fingers, accidentally touching her skin, her hand disappeared, and her hurried, retreating steps were the sign that I had no one to complain to.

Okay, so let it be these …

Stella handled the consultants who sensed fertile ground and obligingly carried out all instructions so briskly that I began to think: I don’t even know what she does for a living … She’s definitely dominating someone!

“Psst, can I take a look?” she whispered through the curtain, already returning to me, and I barely held back a chuckle.

“Just a second,” I breathed out, for some reason starting to feel embarrassed by my bare arms, straightening my back to look at least a little more presentable. “Now you can.”