Meeting

I hate days like this. It’s terribly cold outside, and it gets dark much faster. Some people say that autumn is beautiful. Leaves fall from the trees, covering the damp earth with a rainbow quilt. However, for me, autumn is associated with only one thing - death. Plants die, and animals hide in tight corners, peacefully falling asleep. They probably don’t feel like watching everything around them slowly fade away. I envy them, I would like to close my eyes and not have to worry about anything too. Rain runs down my face. Water drips from strands of long blond hair, joining their companions. Together they flow down the paths, washing away all the dirt. Raindrops are never alone, there are billions of them, and each one has brothers and sisters. The bright lights of passing cars force me to keep squinting. I take step after step, watching the gusty wind tug at the bare branches of the trees. I take a deep breath before stepping into the dark forest separating me from home. Almost no one walks along these paths. I rarely meet other people here, besides, hardly anyone walks in the forest at this time of year, especially in weather like today. Still, I prefer to take a shortcut rather than waste an entire hour taking the lighted route along a wide sidewalk. I live at the end of the world. You could say beyond the seven mountains and seven forests. Until a year ago, I would have given up everything for moving to a big city, but now I enjoy every moment spent in peace and quiet… away from others. It was the death of my parents that changed everything. One damn evening ruined my whole life. It destroyed dreams and derailed previous plans, taking away every spark of hope from my joyful heart. It’s funny how quickly things can change. One second I was happy, and a wide smile wouldn´t leave my face. The next, I was drowning in sadness, feeling tears streaming down my cheeks, and I felt like disappearing. My perfect life collapsed in an instant and I would never come back. My parents were everything to me. I could talk to them about any topic, ask whatever I wanted. Mom even acted as my best friend. When something didn´t go my way, I could fearlessly complain to her and count on good advice. My friends always said that I was lucky to have such a good relationship with my parents. What’s true is true… I was a lucky girl. These two couldn´t be compared to anyone. No one could replace them. I have never met a more loving couple. Sometimes I had the impression that they were more and more in love with each other every day. I cannot fathom why exactly they had to leave. Why did two people with hearts filled with goodness have to die? I will never get over it. I curse those who took them from me. Furthermore, I dream of one day seeing their rotting, cold corpses. Let them suffer - for a long time, just as my parents suffered when their throats were slit, and they were left lying in the middle of nowhere. Without any hope of rescue. Almost every night I see the pale faces of my mother and father bathed in thick, red blood. I´m forced to look into their empty, dull eyes and see them reaching out to me, crying for help. Each time, I wake up with a scream, tears in my eyes, a sheet wet with sweat, and a clenched throat. Since their death, I live with my grandmother. Grandpa left when I wasn’t even in the world yet. At least I don’t have to miss him. Before my parents’ murder, I was about to start college. I always wanted to become a doctor, to save the lives of others. Unfortunately, this will never be given to me. For almost two years, I have been working as a waitress in a cafeteria owned by my mother’s friends. If I hadn’t started earning money and relied solely on my ailing grandmother, we would have lost our home long ago - a place I don’t want to leave at any cost. I grew up there and have the most beautiful memories connected with it. From my paycheck, we pay the bills, and my grandmother’s pension is enough to stock the fridge. I can’t complain, after all, I know that others have it worse. No matter how I look at it, I have a roof over my head and no shortage of friends. Unfortunately, since that tragic day, I´m not truly happy. My grandmother says I’ve built a wall around me because I don’t want anyone to get too close to me. She’s right, God forbid I start to care about someone, and that would have disastrous consequences. I don’t want to be hurt. It doesn’t matter how, any way would be painful. The very thought that I could lose someone a second time eats me from the inside like a deadly acid. I've become someone completely different. I trust few people and almost never talk about myself or my parents. After all, I can’t let anyone know more about me than necessary, I realize that most people see me as a smiling, happy girl who is always sincere and never refuses to help. In reality, I’m a closed-minded little frightened person. The mud sticks to my soaked shoes. Another five hundred meters or so and I’ll be able to take off my clothes, run warm water into the tub and plunge into it up to the tip of my nose, leaving everything behind. Like every day, I will grab one of the books and absorb another story that will never really happen. In my imagination, there will be more people I will never know and beings I will never meet in real gray life. I dream that one day someone will throw me into the world of one of my favorite books and lock it forever, hiding it in a tight safe, then throw the key into a deep lake where no one will be able to find it. Then I won’t have to think about problems, responsibilities and worries. I will forget everything that happened in the past, and I will finally be happy. Suddenly, I hear a male voice:

  “Burn,” he whispers, but his whisper is loud enough for me to understand him clearly.

I stand as if I’m struck, and I feel a cold shiver on my back. After a moment, I’m pierced by shrill screams, lamentations and pleas for mercy. I’m unable to move from my seat. My legs decide to turn into two tree trunks rooted deep in the ground. I reflexively turn my head, looking behind me. My heart is pounding like crazy. I cover my mouth with my hands when I realize what is really happening. Just a few meters away from me stands a tall boy dressed in black. Around him kneels five people reeling in pain, their bodies on fire. Each of them is groaning horribly and asking for mercy. I direct my gaze to the boy’s hands. I rub my eyes and shake my head vigorously to make sure I’m not dreaming. His hands are bathed in blue glowing flames. I swallow my saliva and quickly drop to my knees, hiding behind a large tree. I desperately cling to the hope that he hasn’t noticed me. The next moment, I heard a loud gunshot. A woman of medium height emerges from the darkness. The bullet pierces the shoulder of the boy, who does not move from his position, as if he had deliberately let himself be shot. Blood slowly begins to soak into the fabric of his shirt. Thick drops join the rain and drip onto the soft ground. With Stoic calm, he turns his head toward the woman who attacked him. The poor woman struggles to hold the weapon in her hands. Her limbs shake like the wings of a frightened butterfly. She keeps aiming at the boy, apparently amused by the whole situation, and he smiles crookedly. He sighs and extends his hand, forming his palm into a gun - two slender fingers pointing straight at the girl’s head. He squints his left eye gently and jerks his hand upward.

  “Boom!” he mumbles under his breath, and his face remains impassive.

The stranger stands in bright blue flames, and I cover my ears to avoid hearing her chilling screams. I clench my teeth so hard that my jaw starts to hurt. I take a deep breath and carefully reach for my cell phone tucked in my coat pocket. I blissfully dialed the number for the police, then put the phone to my ear. I bite the tip of my thumb. I hear the rustling of approaching footsteps. He has noticed me, he has definitely noticed me. Without much thought, I jumped up on my feet.

  “Don’t come near me!” I order desperately, waving the phone in front of his eyes. “I called the police, they will be here soon!” I lie, praying that someone will answer quickly, hear us, locate the place from which I´m calling, and send reinforcements.

The stranger makes a quiet sound that could be likened to muffled laughter. Dark hair obscures his eyes of a unique blue-purple color. He theatrically yawns, taking no notice of my threats.

  “I’m not sure, but in my opinion, you can’t call the police without carrying a phone,” he states, shrugging his shoulders.

In response, I raise my eyebrows, wrinkling my forehead. I already want to protest, when I feel a strange tingling in the hand in which I hold my cell phone. Oh, God!!! In one swift motion, I throw the burning piece of plastic as far away from me as possible and take two steps back, ready to run away.

  “It looks like you’ll have to get a new one. This one won’t be of any use anymore,” he says, shrugging his shoulders again, then tucks his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

Why the hell am I still standing here? Run away, Alex! Run as hard as you can, I command myself in my mind. However, my legs are so soft that I can barely keep my balance. I’m breathing far too fast, but I can’t control myself. I’m terrified, so terrified.

  “It was nice to meet you,” he chuckles sounding at the same time as he is talking with a newly met girl, not with a future victim.

He turns around and gets on a cross standing nearby. The motorcycle makes a loud, rattling sound and then drives away. I don’t know what to think. I look around nervously. No corpse, no sign of fire. I don’t understand any of this anymore. Am I losing my mind? Is it possible that everything was happening only in my head? I take a few deep breaths. I rub my eyes and once again run my eyes over the surrounding space. Nothing has changed. I´m alone here. No one has died… I need a few minutes to pull myself together and move towards home. I must be exhausted if I’m starting to daydream.

                                                                                   ***

  “Alex?” I hear the warm voice of my grandmother. As usual, she is sitting in a rocking chair and watching TV. She leaves the house less and less often, and her condition is getting worse every day. I can only hope that she will stay with me as long as possible. I close the door behind me and turn the key in the lock twice. I cautiously approached my grandmother and put my hand on her shoulder. She smiles gently, looking at me from behind the lenses of her glasses. “Are you all right?” She asks. “You came back later than usual. I was slowly starting to worry,” she states concernedly.

  “In this rain it took me a little longer to get back,” I lie, because I have no intention of recounting what I thought I saw.

I have enough problems on my mind. What’s still missing is that my grandmother thinks I’m crazy.

  “I understand,” she nods.

She pulls the thick blanket up to her chest, trying to cover herself more. I helped her, placing a kiss on her wrinkled forehead.

“If you need anything, I’m at my place,” I announce and move toward my room.

I throw myself on the bed and look up at the ceiling decorated with fluorescent stars. I remember how we used to glue them together with my mother. I smile as I replay the scene in my head. My room hasn’t changed much since their deaths. In the middle is a small table, and on it is a bowl filled to the brim with chocolate chip cookies that I bake myself. To the left is the desk where I used to do my homework every day, but now I practically don’t use it. Above it hangs a multitude of photo frames - each of which awakens in me pleasant, but at the same time painful memories. The entire right wall is occupied by a wooden bookcase filled with dozens of books. Most of them I've read at least twice, and some I´m able to quote from memory. It was thanks to my parents that I fell in love with this world full of magic. Every evening, one of them would sit on the edge of the bed and start reading to me. The first book I’m able to recall is The Little Prince. I remember this sentence: among people, one is also lonely. How true it is. It’s funny how clever a children’s book can be. How much can be learned from it and how much useful advice can be found in it. I close my eyelids and lie down on my side, covering my frozen body with a fresh, fragrant quilt. I love the smell of lavender. I associate it with happiness, a sense of security, love… with my mother. I don’t have the strength or desire to go to the bathroom and take a bath. Today, or more precisely the evening, has completely depleted my energy reserves. After a dozen minutes or so, I notice that I keep rolling from side to side. I think about the blue of the flickering flames, instead of relaxing and falling asleep. There are thousands of questions swirling around in my head, and every time I close my eyelids I see the same thing - a boy standing among burning and screaming people. I bite my lower lip. I read far too many books. That’s the only explanation. But my phone… Is it possible that I just lost it somewhere along the way? I’ve never been in such a strange situation before. I glance at the watch standing on the cabinet next to the bed. Three o’clock in the morning, and I still can’t fall asleep. Those blue flames… on the one hand unprecedentedly beautiful, on the other deadly. What if it wasn’t a hallucination at all? What if what happened to me today was real? What if six people were actually murdered before my eyes? No, it couldn’t have happened. Something like that was practically impossible. But those eyes… They don’t give me a break. I’ve never encountered such a color before. Suddenly I realize how many details have stuck in my mind. I’m almost sure that, having met him again, I would recognize him immediately. Such a type is impossible to forget, even if you’ve only seen him for a few minutes. I snuggle into a soft pillow, trying not to think about him. I glance again at the hands of the clock. Five o’clock in the morning. Beautifully, I only have an hour of sleep left, if you can call it sleep. In sixty minutes I’ll be forced to get up, shower, get myself cleaned up, and go downstairs to prepare breakfast. In less than two hours, my shift at work begins. When it dawns on me that I won’t be getting any more sleep, I bolt out of bed. It’s still dark, and a light fog is visible outside the window. At least the rain has stopped. I pull fresh clothes and underwear out of the closet. I throw everything on the bed and go to the bathroom located across from my room. In the shower, drops of water run down me, washing away the traces of yesterday. After a while, I dry myself with a towel and do minimal makeup to camouflage the signs of sleeplessness. I don’t dry my hair. By the time I get dressed and have breakfast, it won’t be wet anymore. I remember how my mother used to braid my hair while I was busy absorbing breakfast. In the kitchen, I prepare myself two toasts with Nutella and make a small coffee with milk. After eating my meal and drinking the necessary dose of caffeine, I throw on my coat and slip into my black leather boots. Another boring day lies ahead of me…