I come to my senses on a soft bed. I don't get up, running my hands over the fabric beneath me and feeling the familiar texture of the blanket. I'm in Vlad's apartment. I exhale in relief. This is uplifting. Because my memory is failing me. All I can recall is the drunkenness and nausea. And that disgusting kiss with Anton. I don't even try to understand why I did it, because I know the answer - I wanted to get back at Sviatyi. To make him understand - I won't disappear. But what is the point of this little protest if Vlad doesn't know what happened? He doesn't know that his wife kissed a classmate...
I open my eyes. It's dark around me. So, it's still night. I slowly sit up. Immediately, I feel a throb in my head. It feels like someone is sticking blades into my temples, twisting them, and mocking clumsy Yulianna. I stop. No. I'm not that way anymore. I won't fall under the influence of the Wild anymore. I won't allow it. I agreed to everything to save my mom and Timur, and... if it works out, myself. If I have the strength... And thanks to Vlad, I know - I should have enough. I can't stay silent forever, apologizing for everything, enduring. I can't allow myself to be hurt because someone enjoys it… The truth is, I need to not only recognize this simple truth but also follow it. So far, I can't… For now, I'm ready to forgive Sviatyi, to play his game as long as needed and secretly rejoice that it's not all over yet since that means he will be nearby. Just a little longer he'll be with me... I will at least be able to see him. I will be able to drown in his blue eyes. I will be able to… breathe in his scent of danger and strength and believe that someday I will be strong enough that the bandages will save…
Laughter and shouts outside the door are shocking. They burst into my consciousness so unexpectedly that I can't even pinpoint whose they are. I slowly get out of bed and walk to the bedroom door. I open them and see Mark, Anton, and Katrin in the living room. They are sitting right on the floor, surrounded by bottles of alcohol - I suspect from Sviatyi's bar - and continue to have fun.
“What’s going on?” I ask hoarsely.
“Zirka!” Katrin quickly jumps to her feet. “We brought you back, you invited me to stay overnight… But you were so drunk that the guys decided to stay too.”
“I invited you,” I assert firmly. “Not them.”
“Hey, stop. We didn't touch anything,” Anton shouts. “Come to us. You have a cool apartment. What, are you the daughter of a magnate?”
“She’s Sviatyi’s fiancée, Vlad’s. Heard of him? He’s an artist too.”
“Really? Fiancée?” Mark smiles and gives Anton a significant look. “And you kissed him?”
“It was an accident,” I defend myself.
“I'll show you the paintings,” Katrin interrupts, “let’s go.”
“No!” I roar as if she’s leading me to view my canvases. “No!” I add more calmly.
“Why not? He’s not here,” my classmate wonders.
“It’s not allowed,” I swallow a lump in my throat.
I don’t want them to mess everything up… In my studio are my memories with Vlad. There, I kissed him for the first time. There, I painted with him. There, I learned to paint from life. No. I don’t want them to even peek with one eye.
“Where is Sasha?” I change the subject.
“At home,” Mark brushes off. “If you won't let us see the paintings, then we’re playing spin the bottle. Point at someone among us - you kiss them, if you miss, then you drink. How about that?”
“Agree,” Katrin smiles. “We won’t go to the studio, I promise.”
“Come on,” Anton waves his hand invitingly.
I don’t like this. I don’t like any of this. I want them to leave. I want them to leave me alone. But, I walk over to them. My head is splitting, and the inner “me” hasn’t disappeared. It’s still there. It doesn’t give me the strength to chase them off because that would be rude. That would be unseemly.
I sit in the circle. I cast a glance at the empty wine bottle. I was right - it's Vlad's alcohol.
“Spin it,” Mark commands.
And I spin the bottle. I watch, secretly praying to God that it doesn’t point at any of my classmates. But God lets me down, the bottle points to Mark. I don’t want to kiss him. I don’t want anything at all, except for them to leave. But the reality is different. Three pairs of eyes are focused on me, looking at me expectantly and… something resonates in my soul that I can’t refuse.
I lean towards Mark and leave a kiss on his cheek. No one specified how it should be. The guys hoot, as if I tricked them, but I don’t care.
Time passes unnoticed. Next, I get lucky, the bottle doesn’t point at anyone else, so I have to drink. My brain, for the second time that night, finds itself in a fog. But this time, I like it. One of my classmates finds where to turn on the music, and now the four of us are dancing to its rhythm.
After a while, I glance at the window; dawn is flickering outside. Katrin is watching me and, realizing perhaps that it’s time to go, loudly announces it. Anton tries to stay, but the girl takes him and Mark with her. Everything happens quickly; one moment we were dancing, and the next we’re saying goodbye at the door.
Katrin hugs me and whispers in my ear:
“I’ll stay over next time, okay?” - she kisses me on the cheek and drags the boys away.
I don't respond. I lock the door and stay alone. With a heavy gaze, I survey the empty bottles and sigh, heading to the bedroom. I don’t have the strength to clean.
As soon as I lie down on the soft mattress, I instantly fall asleep. The last thing echoing in my thoughts is that I still haven’t figured out whether I liked it or not…
***
A new day should have started with classes, but I have no motivation to get up three hours after I went to bed. I turn off the alarm, roll over to the other side, and mumble under my breath that once in a lifetime, I can relax. Finally, no one is controlling me, no one is yelling, no one is causing pain. Even yesterday and last night went relatively well. I haven’t disappeared, I didn’t get into trouble, so I can live on my own.
“I thought you were a well-mannered girl,” suddenly sounds from somewhere nearby.
I sit up sharply. My head is pounding, and nausea rises in my throat. I see Vlad immediately; he’s sitting at the edge of the bed, looking at me mockingly. His eyebrows are raised questioningly, his blue eyes piercing and stern. Yet a smile lingers on his lips. His shirt is partially unbuttoned, and the sleeves are rolled up to his elbows.
“You’re back,” I whisper hoarsely.
“An hour ago, and I definitely wasn’t expecting to find dirt and my drunk wife,” he replies in a tone that leaves me unsure if he’s scolding, angry, or approving.