The day finally arrives—Day X.
Friday. It looms over me like a dark thread, hiding something mysterious, both frightening and alluring. What has Katrin been hiding from me all these days? Why does it have to be a surprise? Is she afraid of my reaction? Or is it really something that could scare me?
But strangely, fear isn't the main feeling. What surprises me most is Rebel Girl. Or rather, her choice of outfit. She usually prefers short dresses and shorts that accentuate her slender legs, but today is different.
She stands in front of me in tight jeans, a short crimson t-shirt, a leather jacket, and black fingerless gloves. On her feet are those same red sneakers that were there on the day we first met.
This combination unsettles me more than her silence about what awaits us.
We take a taxi and head to the outskirts of the city. Outside the window, dim streetlights flicker, casting a muted glow on the streets. The clock shows almost midnight. When we get out, the air is cold, permeated with the smell of cigarettes.
Katrin walks with confident steps, and I follow her, feeling a growing unease inside.
The streets grow narrower and darker. And then we find ourselves in a noisy place. A crowd, people, cars, music blasting from speakers—it all feels like a separate world. Tension fills me.
"Why did you bring me here?" I want to ask, but I don't get the chance.
Katrin turns around. A mysterious spark flickers in her eyes. She pauses for a moment, studying my face as if gauging my state, then takes my hand. Her palm is warm, firm, and resolute. And before I can say anything, she leads me deeper into the crowd.
People stand close together, move to the rhythm of the music, laugh, and chat. We push through them until the rest of the world remains somewhere behind.
I don't know what awaits me ahead. But for some reason, my heart is beating too fast.
"Baby girl! How glad I am to see you!" someone shouts in the crowd.
People around us part, and a giant steps out to meet us. He is bald, nearly two meters tall, with tattoos covering his body. His muscles bulge even through the fabric of his clothes, and his face twists into a sinister smile. I look at him and think about our chances.
Would we be able to run away from here? Would I have to fight him if he tried to touch my girl? Would I be able to win?
Yes, Ivan is clearly of a smaller build than this pumped-up brute.
The girl tries to take a step forward, letting go of my hand, but I don't allow it. I hold her firmly. Was she crazy — to walk up to this Neanderthal?
Rebel Girl turns to me and smiles.
"Everything will be fine, don't be afraid," her words sound soft, but in them, I feel an unshakable confidence.
I want to believe her. I want it to be true. But my heart, beating like crazy, suggests that everything could go not as we expect. And when the girl turns to him again, I feel how my hand involuntarily clenches into a fist.
A fight is coming today. And I am ready.
I am terrified to the point of grinding my teeth. Not for myself, but for her. My heart squeezes with anxiety at the thought that she could end up in tears again, that she would suffer again. I can't allow that. My hand, gripping hers, trembles, but I don't let go.
It is as if, if I unclasp my fingers, she would disappear, dissolve into this world full of dangers.
"Let go, this is an old acquaintance of mine. He won't do me any harm, believe me," I see how she tries to comfort me, but her words can't dispel my anxiety.
With bitterness, I slowly unclasp my fingers, letting her go. Katrin smiles at me, but a slight sadness can be read in her eyes, as if she understands how hard it is for me.
The girl runs to that man, and they hug. My heart squeezes even tighter. I feel a wave of jealousy mixed with anger rising inside me.
His voice, loud and joyful, rings out in the air:
"It's been so long. I already thought you had forgotten about me!"
He shouts with happiness, and I realize that if I were in his place, I probably wouldn't have been able to hold back my emotions either. But it isn't me. It is him.
"I missed you too. Well, how could I have forgotten about Grandpa Vi?" her words sound warm, but to me, they are like a punch to the chest.
Grandpa? This hulk with his broad shoulders and stern look is clearly not a grandpa. Not by age, not by appearance. A grandpa is someone kind, soft, but this one... this one is more like a scary old geezer, as I have already mentally dubbed him.
"And who is this you brought with you, baby girl?" his gaze falls on me, and I feel how rage boils inside me.
His tone, his words addressed to her — all of this stirs in me the desire to throw myself at him, to hit, to push away. Baby girl? How dare he call her that? My fists clench, but I hold back, although everything inside me is screaming: "Get away from her! Take your hands off her!"
They finally stop hugging, but his hand is still resting on her shoulder. It is unbearable. I feel my jealousy turning into hatred.
This person, this Grandpa Vi, seems to me a threat, an intrusion into our lives. And I can't just stand and watch how he touches her, smiles at her, how he tries to take a place that should have been only mine.
"Scum!" flashes in my head, but I stay silent, clenching my teeth.
I know I can't let emotions take the upper hand. But a storm is raging inside me, and I don't know how long I will be able to hold it back.
"This is my friend, Max! You don't mind that I brought him, do you? I want him to be my partner today."
Friend? Just a friend? These words seem to pierce me, leaving a bitter taste on my tongue. But I can't show my feelings, can't let her see how much it hurts me.
The guy sternly looks me over from head to toe. His eyes, cold and assessing, seem to try to penetrate into the very essence, to measure how worthy I am to be by her side.
But then he turns to her, and his face instantly transforms. The smile that appears on his face is so soft and warm that I barely believe it is the same person.
"Well, of course not. I am sure that you will win today, as always, Katrinka," his words sound with such tenderness that I feel physically ill.
He hugs her, and I feel how my anger, like molten lava, begins to rise from the depths of my soul. Katrinka? This nickname, this sweet address he uses, causes disgust in me.
I literally start to feel sick from him, from his behavior, from how he looks at her, how he touches her. My anger, which I am barely holding back, is ready to break out at any moment. I don't care that the girl has called me just a friend.
I don't care about the fact that something is supposed to happen today, about their talk about winning, about some participation, about the fact that I will be her partner. All of this seems to me now unimportant, petty against the background of what is happening right now.
The only thing I want — is to hit him. Hard, so that he will remember it for his whole life. Even if it has consequences. I am ready for anything. Even if it leads to me ending up in the intensive care unit.
A fight is inevitable today if he doesn't get off her. She is only mine. And let him keep his hands to himself. I feel how my breathing becomes heavier, how my fists clench even tighter. I can't endure it anymore.
"Katrinka," he says again, and I feel how my patience is coming to an end.
Everything will end today. Either he will get off her, or I will make it so that he will never be able to touch her again.
"Look who is here! You even dragged your little puppy here. Or did he run after you himself, like a true stray dog?" a mocking voice rings out, filled with venom and contempt. Every word hits my nerves, causing a flash of anger and irritation inside.
It is Ivan. His face, twisted in a self-satisfied grin, causes disgust. What else has he forgotten here? Why did he even appear? Questions swirl in my head, but there is no answer to them.
Although, to be honest, I don't care anymore. My mood is so disgusting that I feel how every cell of my body craves an outburst of aggression. My fists clench by themselves, as if they are asking to hit someone.
"Watch your mouth, Vanya. Or you will leave here exactly like a dog, on all fours," suddenly calmly, but with a clear threat in his voice, answers Grandpa.
His words sound like a threat; in them, one can feel strength, confidence, and even some kind of wisdom that forces me to think for a moment. And do you know what the most interesting thing is? After this phrase, I start to like him.
The enemy of my enemy is my friend, as they say. Inside, a strange feeling of respect for this person begins to arise, who, it seems, is afraid of no one and nothing. But my Rebel Girl, as always, is restless. She seems to live to justify her nickname. Her eyes light up with excitement, and I feel how the tension is growing in the air.
"I don't know if you know, but I have lately liked making different bets. Shall I make one with you, too?"
"Hm, and I like this idea. I already know what I will get after the victory," answers her Ivan, and I don't like his look.
I run up to Katrin and sharply turn her to me. My hands are trembling from tension, and in my chest, a hurricane of emotions is raging — fear, anger, anxiety.
"Are you in your right mind? You yourself know what he will ask for if you lose. How can you bet then?" I blurt out in an attempt to get through to her.
My words sound sharp, almost desperate, but in her eyes, I see only stubbornness and excitement.
The girl doesn't seem to understand what she is getting involved in, or simply doesn't want to understand.
"And you don't butt in, mutt, into the conversations of adults," the guy throws at me, as if swatting away an annoying fly. His voice is cold, but I don't care about him. "So, what, do we have a bet?" he turns again to Katrin, raising his head and looking her straight in the eyes. In her look, a challenge can be read, but I also see a shadow of doubt that she is painstakingly hiding.
"Yes. A bet on a wish," stubbornly continues Katrin, as if playing some dangerous game where the stakes are too high.
"If I win, then you will get off me once and for all, and if you..." the girl goes silent, as if not daring to finish.
"Then you will sleep with me," in his words, there is impudence, confidence, and something disgustingly predatory. My blood boils, and I feel how everything inside me squeezes from fury.
"No, I am against it," I butt in again into their conversation, trying to stop this madness. My words sound rude, but in them, helplessness can be felt. I understand that I can't just take and stop this, but I also can't stand on the sidelines.
"Don't worry, I will be gentle with her, just like then. Well, you saw it yourself," adds Ivan, and his words sound like a spit in my face.
In his voice, there is some kind of vile self-assurance that makes me shudder. Moments are recalled which I tried to erase from memory, and now they are surfacing again, causing a wave of anger and disgust. I can't withstand it.
My body rushes forward on its own, my fists clench, and I am already ready to hit him, to knock that impudent grin off. But at the last moment, someone's strong hand grabs me by the shoulder, stopping my impulse.
"Calm down, kid. He has no chance of winning this race," a calm but firm voice rings out.
It is Grandpa Vi. His words sound like an order, but in them, there is confidence that calms me down a little. He stands nearby like a rock, and his presence gives some hope. I deeply sigh, trying to calm down, but inside, a storm is still raging.
Katrin, Ivan, Grandpa Vi — all of them seem like part of some insane play in which I don't want to participate, but also can't exit.
Wait, did he say "race"? A race? What? Are they going to participate in a race? Has she completely lost her mind? Katrin, this fearless but such reckless girl, has decided to risk her life? And, judging by everything, I would be her partner.
No, no, and no again! I will never get into a car with her! This is madness, and I won't allow this to happen. Fear and anger mix in me, squeezing my throat.
"You didn't know? Today there will be a race, and Katrinka is taking part in it, just like Ivan. This is their first joint race," pronounces the man, as if it were something ordinary.
I stand, stunned, trying to comprehend what I have heard. How to stop this? How to prevent that which could end in a catastrophe? Thoughts are spinning in my head, but not a single one of them gives an answer.
"What do I need to do so that this race does not take place?" I ask, hoping that he knows a way out.
"Excuse me, but you cannot stop it," he answers with sadness in his voice, as if understanding my worries, but not having the possibility to help.
Ivan leaves, leaving me alone with disturbing thoughts. And then she returns — Katrin. Her eyes are burning with excitement, but a shadow of doubt can also be read in them.
She knows that I would be against it, but, apparently, decided that it was worth it. I look at her, feeling how the fear for her is mixing with disappointment and anger.
How could she be so reckless? And how could I stop her?