A few hours later, Katrin calls me. The phone screen lights up with her name—brightly, like an electric shock. Inside, everything tightens, chills. It's as if someone suddenly opened a hatch right into my heart—and a cold, prickly, merciless wind rushes in, piercing to the bone. My heart skips a beat and then jerks painfully, as if startled. I freeze, unable to breathe in or out. A thousand thoughts race through my mind, but none can settle—they all scatter like snowflakes in a blizzard.
"Darling, nothing particularly new…" I start, trying to speak softly, cautiously, as if afraid to hurt her with my voice. The words hide behind silence, as if I'm walking on fragile glass, afraid to break it.
"Listen carefully," Katrin says sharply.
Her voice is firm, unusually harsh and tense, as if every word is forced. Another person seems to speak through her voice—a strong, determined one, ready to go all the way, no matter what.
"You have to track the location of my phone."
"Why?" I don't understand at once. My heart skips; the question escapes on its own, though I'm already starting to guess. I just don't want to believe what I feel.
"So you can find me and Mary. I love you, Maxim," and then the line goes dead.
Her voice is gone. Only emptiness, cold, and silence remain, like a sharp knife plunged into the soul. It feels as if I'm pulled out of my body and left to wander in shadows, lost and helpless.
I freeze. My heart pounds as if a drummer has taken residence in my chest, racing without mercy. Fear overtakes me—the fear that my beloved decided to do something reckless—and I hope it won't cost her everything. My Katrin… she does this for us, for Mary, for the one chance. But the price could be too high, unbearable.
"Here's the number, track its location," I order my friend, handing over the information with trembling hands. "Right now, it's important."
My nerves are at their limit; I barely hold myself together. Every word sounds like a battle command—sharp, firm, leaving no choice.
"It's out of town. Here's the address," he says five minutes later, which feels like an eternity.
I pace the room like a trapped animal, bumping into walls, unable to find my place. Anxiety clamps my chest like a steel hoop. Everything inside churns, like before a storm. One single, piercing question doesn't leave my mind:
"Will we make it?"
When we finally arrive, the place feels deserted. There's no one there. Only the broken phone of Rebel Girl lies on the cracked ground, like the last remnant of her world. It looks almost alive, discarded in haste or fear—but at the same time hopelessly dead. Broken connection between worlds. Between us and her. It doesn't ring, doesn't light up, doesn't vibrate—just lies there silently.
Silently reproaching.
Silently accusing.
It's a sign—harsh, yet clear: we are late again. Hope slips away like warm air through fingers in winter cold. Only ringing emptiness remains… and pain. The kind that makes you clench your fists and stare into the void, where she was just moments ago.
"Bitch!" a sharp, piercing scream bursts from my chest, like the cry of a trapped, wounded animal.
Pain clamps my chest in a cold, hard, relentless ring, stealing my breath, forcing me to gasp for air. Where hope might have flickered, there is now yawning emptiness—cold and lifeless.
Now he has more of my loved ones—Katrin and my son. And this seems to weigh down my soul, squeezing it to the limit.
Suddenly, the phone rings again. I pick it up, even though I expect nothing good. The voice on the other end is hollow, burnt out from the inside—as if someone erased all warmth and light from the words, leaving only emptiness. Every vibration of the phone feels like a painful jab straight into the heart—a reminder that the terror is not over, and far too much unknown and pain lie ahead. → lies ahead
"Max, Katrin is gone," Grandpa Vi reports, voice trembling, silence between words screaming.
"I know, she's with him," I say with cold certainty, as if I read it with my heart. It's not knowledge—it's instinct, painful and alive.
"Goddammit!" curses the usually calm man. His loss of composure sounds almost terrifying. The world seems to shift, even the stones crack. "By the way, she left you a letter."
"I'm on my way," I answer.
On the drive, I tell Tim all the details. The car speeds along the highway, headlights tearing pieces of asphalt from the darkness like sharp blades slicing the night. The light cuts the gloom, and I speak fast, clearly, with no extra words—Tim and his team must get there and try to find something. We have to act, not waste a second—every one could be the last, fateful one.
Arriving home, I feel the weight of exhaustion crash onto my shoulders—as if all strength suddenly evaporates, and every muscle demands rest. But the moment I want to sink onto the couch and close my eyes, a thick envelope is handed to me—as if it holds something important, inevitable, something that could turn my life upside down. On the envelope, in large, careless letters, it says: "For Maxim." These words echo in my chest, heart tightening with premonition—inside this envelope lies a door to a new, terrifying stage, one that can no longer be closed or pushed back by any force.
I slowly go to Mary's bedroom, every step echoing heavily in my head. Trembling grips my body, as if a cold wind passed through me. I sit on her bed—the very one where a few hours ago my beloved lay, her breath still seeming alive in the air. Empty, cold space now symbolizes loss and, at the same time, hope. Heavy silence presses harder than any words. The envelope trembles in my hands, as if alive, filled with fear and mystery. I carefully open it, afraid I might destroy something fragile and important. I pull out a sheet of paper and start reading—each word cutting a new wound, but also offering a faint spark of light in the darkness.
Dear Maxim,
I understand your anger at me and my actions. You have every right to feel pain and hurt—I probably wouldn't be able to forgive so quickly myself. Inside me lives this weight, the awareness that my decision broke your heart, and it causes unbearable pain. But believe me, I simply could not act otherwise. Our daughter is there, alone, with that monster. This feeling of helplessness and fear literally tears me apart from the inside, and I knew—I had to do something.
Ivan called me. He told me where to go and threatened—if I don't do this, he will harm our baby. I heard his words and felt my heart freeze with terror. I could not leave our daughter in danger, I could not betray her.
Since the place I am called to does not have precise coordinates, I ask you, Maxim, to find me. Please, find me, because our family's life depends on it.
The probability of my plan working is only fifty-fifty. But even this small chance is better than leaving Mary alone in this hell, unprotected. According to my calculations, this monster will ask you for money—and then, I fear, he will kill one of us, or maybe both. You know him better than I do, and I know this is true.
You have a few days before he contacts you and demands ransom. Don't waste time, Maxim.
Forgive me that my plan didn't work faster, and that you couldn't find me sooner. I know you are reading this letter because everything went wrong.
Maxim, I love you. I have always loved you. And I believe that only you can find us and save us. I promise you—from my side, I will do everything to keep us safe and alive until you arrive. My heart beats for you, for us, and this love is my protection until you come.
If you cannot save both of us, please save at least Mary. I am very sorry if you have to choose between us. I know it's horrible, but I ask you to do exactly as I ask. I do not want to think about such a choice, but I know there may be no other choice.
I understand that perhaps neither I nor our son will survive all this. So please, take care of our daughter. Do not do anything reckless without me, do not deprive our baby of her father as well—she needs you, your love and your strength.
I saw the ring. Maxim, know that my answer would be "yes." Yes, I would want to spend my whole life with you—to be your wife, raise our children, wake up every morning in your arms, feeling warmth and safety. How painful it is to realize that these dreams now hang by a thin thread.
How many more kisses and hugs could we have had… But this Ivan will take all that from us, destroy our hopes and happiness.
Thank you for every minute you gave me. It doesn't matter whether those minutes were happy or difficult—I was happy in each of them because you were there.
I know life will be hard for you without me. But I will not wait for you there, Maxim. So please, don't even think about suicide. If you do it, I will not forgive you—even in heaven, I will be angry at you. Live. Find someone who can make you happy—even a little, even for a moment. That is what I wished for you four years ago, and I wish for you now.
With love,
Your Rebel Girl