Copyright © 2019 by Markovas
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Chapter 1
Quarrel

Air of wobble disgruntled the hot confines of the stale room whereupon the rays of sun were trying to squeeze their way through the bashed and poor blinds. Newly coated green covered the walls of this cage of promised knowledge, conformity and education, while the portrait of Lenin and Stalin watched over all of us in the patient requiem’s eternal life of artificial preservation.

I had never been there to personally witness their husks, in the mausoleum upon the Red Square, but they had shown us pictures of proclamation of the heroes who had created the utopia in which we now existed. But I couldn’t find their utopia, since there were days when I’d curl into starvation of this unjust world.

A specter is haunting Europe — the specter of communism. This specter, it haunted not only Europe, it haunted us all.

Amidst the perfect discipline in equilibrium to slumber, the air wobbled with the notes of the teacher behind the desk, “I want all equations solved before I’m back,” she demanded with a glare at the whole classroom, which then pointed at the students responsible to keep order and stability. I couldn’t understand why she appeared so disgusting with those pink-framed glasses and shrunken nose, as if she were under the spell of some kind of witch.

I faked some scribbles on my notebook on the lone black desk, since the last thing on my cramped life was to be in the sights of this awful cousin of the Boogeyman. The door shut closed and her repugnant aura was lost to the faintness of serenity. The children in the classroom conversed immediately in whispers, as if the communist portraits on the walls alone were able to instill discipline to such an extent.

This was the last place I wanted to be, and I was growing hungrier by the minute. The fact was to be kept to myself, but my guts growled in loudness to my surroundings, and to my annoyance, the girl in front looked at me and giggled. My eyes couldn’t even hold a second of her gaze as humiliation, to my own inability to look after myself, found roots from the wooden chair’s sterility. If only I could go to work earlier today, it’d fix my whole week at best. They all said we wouldn’t need money, but how was I supposed to survive without it? The orphanage was awful and I couldn’t even bear to stay there more than the night.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” said a raspy and calm voice from where I had looked away. I knew the notes too well and cold sweat filled all my pores as my mind and body braced for what the odds demanded.

“I think I was just…” This immediately made my eyes to fixate upon the two bodies of youth. There he was, a lanky boy with baggy clothes and a wrinkled lip of cold command. This person was worse than a rabid dog.

“Just what?” the boy sneered and got closer into the girl’s personal space, his bruised hand on top of her notebook and the other on her chair. I knew she could flee, shout or yell, but not with this piece of filth. He was disregarding the rules and the head students were supposed to instantly reprimand him, but everyone was staying out of this, and it was perfectly normal, yet why?

“Trying to flop me, Vania? Stupid gypsy serf!” He grabbed her by the black hair and squeezed his disgruntled fist down so his mouth was in her ear. The terror was dominating my veins. This was nothing new, but it was happening just in front of my nose… and I did the most irrational thing in this utopian world.

“Stray off, fucking psycho!” I shouted to the silence of whispers, as if the most surprising thing had happened in this box of dreams and futures. I could feel all the eyes on me, begging me to sit down and just leave this to not unravel, but my stance was high and my body spoke violence against this lanky trash. He was weaker, yet the malice that danced in his stale greys was bashing nails into my courage from doing the right thing.

But he only pulled on her hair again into her sobs of needed mercy without even bothering to remove his apathetic glare, which was given only to me and me alone. My mind was confused, as it called for survival and for strength in both directions.

But before anything idiotic would happen, steps echoed in the corridor, which made the incarnation of malice to quickly go back to his seating to the front row of the desks, all the while not moving his expressionless eyes away from me.

Everything was given the same prior element of nothingness as the teacher entered and sat down in deep contemplations, the class festering in the silence of what had just occurred. My leg was thumping in the adrenaline of the idiocy I had just let be, while my mind sought for solutions to how I can resolve this new issue. He was not somebody with whom you joked with or tried to clash fists, as his reputation was of one equal to those of the people on the streets of nights.

But wasn’t I just being bias in my own thinking of what was perceived by those around me? Wasn’t this little caricature of bones just nothing than a scared kid who had to be taught a lesson, a lesson apparently nobody wanted to give him force to. Yet, he was so smart and manipulative, the perception our mentors had of him was of a peaceful lamb…

Staring into the doodles of my notebook, my fingers could do nothing but just drum against my temple as my mind raced in the mud of mistakes. I didn’t know why, but I glanced at Ivana for a moment and noticed the gratitude. It made me grab my short hair as my lungs filled with toxicity, all under the wasteful gazes of portraits those dead.

She didn’t deserve it, but I didn’t either!

The class ended without event, and I was one of the first to sneak out and get to a place I knew nobody would follow me. Sure, the air tasted of cleaning products-sharp, and the coldness oozed off the windowless basement walls in the weak yellow light, but nobody was going to bother my thoughts at a place like this.

Looking at my fingers, I played around with a recent scar which was the consequence of trying to carry weight not fit for my body. Immediately I was brought to why I was doing it back then, and my stomach curled into a whimper, my legs tightening together over the squatting toilet I was hovering over. Losing all your height sometimes did help in bringing the feeling of insignificance, and thus proclaiming calmness all over.

Nevertheless, my ears twinkled at the sound of the toilet’s door opening to a creak, and my heart crozzled at the prospects of who may the person be. All of a sudden, I had no other problems but the one on the highest pedestal.

The steps were subtle and carried no weight, while the air’s chill was invading me somehow stronger, despite the outside confines having the searing Celsius of late spring. It should’ve felt nice out of the zone of sweat, but all I could find was the need to get out there under the warming gaze of yellow’s damper.

Maybe if I just kept quiet I’d be untouched from my hiding spot, but then again, all the other doors were open and only mine was closed… Such a Billo I was to cage myself at a place nobody would hear me at. As expected, the shadow and steps stopped right in front my door and idled there as if mocking my monkey brain, twitchy fingers drumming against my squatted thighs.

I could take him on. I was bigger than him, so I had a chance after all. My body still decided to stay low on the tiled floor, and then, in between the whiffs of awful chemicals, I caught a scent misplaced to the person behind the door, as if I were again in the classroom 10 minutes ago. Was this—

“I think you’re in there,” said Ivana, and all I could do was to just crash my head into my legs in irritation to her presence. After all, I had put myself in this mess because of her, and now she was further trying to include me in it all? Preposterous!

“Can you open?” She tried the handle in failure and scoffed in the echoes of isolation.

“Stray away.”

“I think I’ll climb over there…” As if I’d believe she’d do any of that. With those skirts, the best those girls could do was skip one step. If this was her best bluff, she could just g—

She was already on the other side and the grunts and banging of the middle pipe gave my eyes a widening of stinging. Was she really… “What’re you— hey!”

“I to— ugh, you.”

“I’m… I’m naked, abandon this!” I called, standing in my lie, since what only was naked was my ability to make her go away. But in the lack of response, I saw her head pop over the tall wall with her black hair and smug smile, as if she knew full well the situation, which was prompting me to throw something at her for finding amusement in the direness of today.

“I think you’re not, Slavi.” To her comment, the only thing I could do was glare, but all the stress was slowly evaporating, since my understanding was she wasn’t here to laugh at me, and curiosity got everything else to step down from the red carpet. It didn’t mean I wasn’t going to show her what I felt, so I just opened my door and went out, waiting for her to get down from the height and tell me about what the hell she wanted.

But underneath all her grunts and movement, the jump was the only thing out of the equation. “C’mon…” I fussed, yet nothing changed, so I just went to the sinks of long stretch, ones which would’ve been fitting for horned cattle to drink from. As I was washing my hands in the liquid coldness, she whimpered with embarrassment.

“I think… can you help me?” What was she playing at… was I supposed to believe she couldn’t get off from where she had climbed on? Anyhow, I sluggishly went over to the entrance and saw a sight befitting my chuckle, as Vania was ducked on top the tall toilet cistern, looking down with lots of regret and trying to jump with one leg dangling, yet she pulled it instantly and whimpered.

“How did you even, hah…” I tried to say, but a snort stopped me. But in the lack of response, I just walked over the squat hole and motioned with my hand for her to grab on and climb down. But instead of turning around and doing it safely, she jumped at me like a predator upon prey, her body colliding with mine and causing me to make several steps back from the force and shock.

“Wha— ugh.” She hugged me for her dear life, and I couldn’t react appropriately to this strange and fully unexpected motion. Her legs were even intertwined behind my back. Why was I even holding her? In my befuddlement, she moved back a bit, her hands supporting her behind my neck, and smiled.

“Thanks!” In humiliation to this closeness and with a new wave of heat, I quickly disengaged and exited to the wideness of the tiled space, where my mind fought its emptiness and the strange feelings underneath my ribs.

When I saw her again, not knowing for how long I was just standing there, she was holding what looked like… food!

I forgot instantly the prior embarrassment as the hunger entered me anew. Her face was half hidden by her long hair, and in a way I couldn’t find irritation to throw at her, especially as a sort of understanding was dawning on me.

“I heard you today, and I think you’re not eating. You’re trying to cover it, but I think I can see it in you…” She looked away with sadness, but then her vigor came back. “Wanted to thank you for protecting me from that leper Pietre…” Her leg scratched the other in lack of courage, until she pushed the bag food close to me.

“Here,” she finalized and gleamed her oaken eyes with expectation-overflowing, which went on to crash at my stare. But then, as my stomach yelled at me to be smart, I just took it and quickly went to the sinks where I could sit at an angle on a dry patch of white.

In the bag I found sandwiches, potatoes and a cucumber. Must’ve been her whole share for the day, and she wanted to share it with me. It kinda felt too good to be true, and when she sat next to me without my eyes recognizing the closeness, my mind quickly managed to find a reason to why she was doing this.

Holding a potato close to my mouth, I asked, “Ain’t any charity this, eh?” The glance-away was the answer I needed. Nonetheless, I ate the potato quickly, since I didn’t want her to snatch the bag away due to being caught so early.

“Maybe… I mean, well… I think it’d be nice if you could keep doing it… would you?” She got closer and grabbed onto my arm, the desperation and hope dancing like solar flares upon her face. The encouraging effects were giving me this power in a sense, and were pushing me to acknowledge the possibility, despite the knowledge of me being manipulated into the concept.

But then I saw it as an opportunity of work, since the payment would be me getting food in exchange for helping her out. Sure, I could get in a lot of trouble for clashing with Pietre, but it was better than just starving slowly to death day by day, or getting my back and hands cut, finalizing my life as a cripple in a year or two.

“Keep bringing food, and deal.” Maybe she was going to back off from this, since it was no small effort, but then her full body collided onto my side as she embraced me again, this time the awkwardness being way less than it was.

It kinda made me feel… nice.

The day had ended without much of a difference at all. I and Vania conversed as I ate her delicious food, leaving her enough to get by the day, and we got to finish our classes without Pietre causing any trouble. He had actually avoided us like the flu, which was confusing. We hung out after school for a bit, something I knew she wanted to do since it’d remove the threat of her getting caught alone by the leper, as she’d say.

And now, now I was lying in my bed at the orphanage I’ve known all my life, my ears finding irritation at my roommates who were fighting on the floor, because one of them had accused the other of cheating at a card game, which was illegal to be played anyways. I think it was because they were betting, but who cared.

Putting the blanket over myself, I tried to force the shouts out of my ears, but then I was hit on my stomach by someone, which got me to flare with a fist at the direction of probability. It missed. But no joy was met when I caught the person’s eyes, as it was Herfil, the kid who slept on top of my bunkbed. My fury died, and the trepidation upon his face made me unable to swear at him.

“Dirtbag. Some creep’s looking for you’round the building,” Herfil mentioned.

“Throw him anything?”

“Pft, as if… wha’d ya do?”

“Threw him a fuck off.” At the answer, nothing else was said between us amidst the rattles of unstoppable clashes of fists, and what more was really there to be said? Pietre was looking for me, and he hadn’t just forgotten about today, while I had agreed to help Vania against his abusiveness. I guess it wasn’t the best decision in my life, hence, the feeling of power I had carried with me in those toilets was now turned into a crozzled vase of deformity.

With another flick of blanket, I tried to force myself asleep from my troubles, but the only thing of success was the images of what may happen with me, of what may incur to my existence, my survival.

Now, now was the reign of chaos.

Chapter 2
Clash

Underneath the glory of warmth and the air of longevity, the sound of joy reverberated around the school playgrounds like a string of music of improvised result. The rocky ground fumed with heat of midday’s intricate mood, crawling into and around cloth, flesh, steel and plastic.

The days had went by and nothing in particular had happened after the small confrontation at the classroom with Pietre, but my guard couldn’t just fall down, so I was a nervous wreck, since I was expecting him to do something to me at any given moment. More whispers were spread around the orphanage that someone wanted my residence, which I knew for sure was him. If he wanted to know where I was, then what he was planning in secrecy was going to be for sure a surprise of nastiest scents and taste.

Vania became more attached to me, which was discouraging, as she’d try to stick around me most of the time during the school days, even during breaks. I’d be asked if she was my girlfriend and other kinds of filth, which would increase the frustration in my essence. I was doing this for the work and nothing else. They could go and stick their Komsomol crap up their asses, because working for free wasn’t’ going to feed my stomach.

And here I was, after a laborious game of football, having been watched by Vania and now sat on the same bench as her. I was resting in the aftermath’s effort of sprinting. We had won, but no such feeling was present in my lack of focus. No wonder the damn ball hit my face…

“I think you were… good,” Vania prompted, but I just remained silent, staring at the distant mountain which could be seen from the school’s loom. “You think you can show me how to play?” With a glare at her, I moved closer so I could see the emotion in her eyes. Why did she believe she could force friendship by this mutual deal we had done? Why was she even trying this… fakeness to begin with when she could save herself the time, and do something else in her mind, or whatever the hell there was.

“Abandon it.”

“Huh?”

“You keep lying interest. You’re not invested in me or what I like. The only reason you try to is because of what we shook to.”

“Wa—”

“Just abandon it and don’t fuss. Deal’s a deal. You ain’t my friend. It’s fucking frustrating me!” My thoughts were unraveled and it was all said. Now she could accept her hypocrisy and just behave normally, like a real person would, and I wouldn’t need to have to conform to her attempts of deceitful conditioning.

“But I think am…” Why was she keeping the ruse, this miscalculated attempt of control. I looked at her, patiently waiting to see the crap that would leave her mouth. “I think I know you a little bit. You wander to yourself and try to take care of yourself. I think I know it’s hard being an orphan… I think I don’t know how you feel, but I’m a bit like you. Just… well you heard.”

My mouth opened to intervene, but my mind shouted at me to keep listening, to see if what I was believing was either true or false. Why did I want it to be false all of a sudden?

“Protecting me, I think I don’t feel alone anymore. I can trust you to be my friend. I think it’s selfish, but I think I just don’t want to be lonely…”

“You’re lonely?” Her shuffles meant only one thing: shame of herself.

“Nobody wants to be around me much because I think they think the leper would wander at them…” I knew full well the issues between them both, but they were only recent developments.

“Beggar’s never been like this, Vania…”

“I think his words stopped covering me. He needed another way… I’ve talked with authorities, but I think they don’t believe me.”

“Your parents?”

“I think they think I deserve it. Father says I talk too much.”

“Well, he ain’t wrong, heh.” At my comment, her expression told me she was hurt and I felt the need to repair the damage, so I added, “But don’t shake it in bad light. Sorry, ain’t easy to trust people from where I crawl from.”

“What was it like?” she quickly cut in, as if waiting for me to open up and give her passage into my life. In a way, I was tempted.

“Yea. What’s it like in mud and piss-soaked beds?” cut in the familiar, sneering voice. There he was in front of us, Pietre, his hands lazily limp on both sides and his tall body arched at our seated selves.

“Shut up, leper,” Vania threw against him, and his amusement from his words filtered away.

“So you’re the gypsy’s dog, aren’t you heriot?” he tried again, getting my heart to throb at the insult, but somehow it wasn’t enough to make me react violently.

“That all, leper?” I asked, and it seemed the comment had its effect, as he couldn’t make a comeback and just stood there like an idiot. Maybe he wasn’t as bright or scary as I had thought, and there was this strange effect of power of having someone next to me who believed the same.

“I think he’s got broken teeth. Leper!” Vania jabbed with a giggle, and I couldn’t stop myself from snorting with malice at the filthy boy in front of us. Yet, there was no more emotion in him, he was apathetic to everything we were throwing at him in terms of ganged-words.

Then, he smiled and walked at Vania, reaching out his hand for her hair once more. This sense of strength had empowered me, and at her squeak, I hit his hands and grabbed him by the baggy shirt, his visage now straight in front of mine with that awful and untwitching smile.

“Don’t even dare touch her, filth!”

“Tell me, Slavi. When did you serf so low?” I couldn’t’ follow what he meant with those words, but the fires of hate were telling me that I wouldn’t like what his filth was going to sputter.

“Was it when your gypsy mother shat you on the floor and left you to die?” The only thing in focus was him, the other pleading sounds around me falling deaf to my rage, as he had somehow guessed, or maybe knew, of my deeply enrooted issues of my past. At that moment, I wanted to kill him.

“Alone like a dog. Useless, repulsing, a waste of spa—” The words stopped as I bashed my head into his mouth, grabbing his ears and throwing his whole body on the hard and flaring ground. My elbow bashed against his throat and my fists ravaged his laughter, blood streaking from his nose and the cuts I was creating upon his filthy skin. Someone tried to pull me away, Vania.

Faint words like ‘he wants you to do this’ and ‘stop’ roamed the air, but my body craved to end the life of this miserable fiend right here, right now. But then someone stronger grabbed and pulled me away, slaps hitting against my face and yells discordantly putting new fears in my muffled inferno.

In between the bodies of teachers and students, I saw him rise from the streaks of blood I had caused leak to, and the grey bloodshot eyes mocked my failed effort and thanked me for what was just done… When my head looked around and found the face of some teacher I had never seen before, I knew what this fucker’s plan was all along.

All of a sudden, his eyes had teared and he was scrunching his body as if I had cut all his nerves in it, making a spectacle out of just a few solid hits, which I knew for sure hadn’t done much. Nobody laughed at their own beating, only if they were used at getting it.

I knew that first hand.

Chapter 3
Consequences

Sitting in an empty room, trying to forget the past. It was an attempt of titans, one which was going to lead me to nowhere. All those mystic elements of using your psyche to change the situation of your environment, to change your circumstances. It was just a lightless tunnel’s thinking.

In the office of the psychologist, I was sat waiting, again in those awful wooden chairs, for the verdict of what would come of auxiliary judgment. My face was burning from all the slaps I had been assaulted with, while the bones of my fists crawled in underskin bruises. At least this gave me peace as I knew the same was around his own face and even worse. Yea, I liked the insight of that as now it made me feel a bit better to the extent of damage I had done. It didn’t matter if they’d remove me from this school, what was worse was if they’d put me in some kind of psych ward or try treat me for insanity… And, what about Vania? Would it mean I had failed my jo—

The door swung open and the coos of the psychologist carried words to the person I was least expecting. Immediately sitting up in protest, I pointed at Pietre and shouted.

“What’s he— Why here?! He did this, don’t you see?” As the psychologist scorned, I realized I had let my emotions take over, thus, further giving evidence to my potential lack of grasp upon reality.

So I just stared at the cleaned face and gauze in Pietre’s nose and wanted to ask if he needed a hand of fixing his face, but such was kept indoors for another time when no one was around. Damn crafty son of a spawn, he was pretty bright after all.

Pietre took a seat next to me and I could smell the freshness of his dark blood. It was eerie being so close to this kid, and in a way it was surreal, as if I were trapped in an inescapable nightmare.

The psychologist took a chair and put herself nearby in a tolerant intertwine of her legs. Her eyes examined us both with the sigh of severity, and she took upon her clasped hands.

“The gravity of today is immense. Awareness dictates: both of you are the instigators of this clash. I want the truth. Slavi, what made you do what you did today?” She wanted to know both our stories, so such meant there was no bias, hopefully.

“He strayed to us, told me I was a dog and Vania a…” I didn’t know if I should say this, but she wanted the truth, “gypsy. Then, he attacked Vania, and I shook him. But then he said…” my tongue fell into my throat in my inability to express the words used just hours ago on that school yard. The raw emotion which had possessed me as a demon gave glistens, and I considered the impassive deadness Pietre was giving the pristine floor.

“Shit abandoned by his mother, dog… waste of space.” My fists wanted more, they wanted to give his face more love and affection to his actual wasteful existence, but I knew it’d be the dumbest thing to do. He even had the audacity to just stare like that and not react? Did he even have a tiny speckle of emotion within himself or was it all just a way to play his chess.

“I see. Pietre, I need you to tell me what happened.” The impassiveness disappeared, and emotion filled his bruised face. He didn’t appear panicked or shocked, more like… ready.

“I heard him saying to Vania he didn’t want to be her friend, because she’s bourgeoisie. Her opinion’s high of him. He told her she was a hypocrite. I tried to intervene, and he did this.” Pietre adjusted his jaw, blood exposed around all his saliva and tongue. “I haven’t said those words, but I did try to disable him from abusing her—” I couldn’t stand for his shit any second longer.

“Yea? How about we reach for her side!” I shouted at him, fists trembling. The psychologist was ready to pounce and split us apart, but I crossed my arms and just stood in glares.

“You mu— can ask her, but she’s terrified and wouldn’t want to give any reasons for him to hurt her…” I wanted to object to the defamation, but keeping quiet was the best weapon in front of a judge, especially after putting forth your case. Yes, this wasn’t about us, this was about who was to be blamed for everything, this was about who’d take the stones over the head, the shackles around their hands and feet.

“Interesting,” the psychologist mentioned and took off from her seat. “Comrade Emilova, proceed.” The door creaked shyly and the body of the teacher I viewed in detest slid in, apparent confusion stalking.

“Is there something the matter? I don—”

“Take a seat.” The strictness wasn’t present in the math teacher, as the psychologist was somehow reeking this respect and iron control over the situation. The teacher did as instructed and picked away some rogue string from her skirt. Wasn’t she too old for this crap?

“In this recent conundrum, comrade Emilova, I have to inquire of you to tell me what happened in your class last week upon Monday.” Emilova’s guilt scratched itself upon the back of her head.

“Huh? We had a class of mathematics, solved a lot of practical tasks and… that’s the answer.” She wasn’t even being humble, saying a lot this a lot that, when most she did was pick her nose and do what she cared about. No wonder I couldn’t even bother to take her opinion even for a tiny second.

“Have any complications in class occurred between these two on the set date?”

“Them? No! I take great pride in discipline by following the statute of the school and our glorious leaders!”

“Is it possible that you, by any chance, had not been present while the possible disruption between these two has happened? Like not being in the classroom?” Why was there hesitation on this old hag’s face? Of course she wasn’t there!

“No such thing. I wouldn’t leave my workplace even if I had a reason to. It’s my duty to serve the people and the future generations.” Old lying hag! Serving the future generations by filling her teeth with filth, eh? I could see the skepticism in the air, but it would’ve been insane for me to say the teacher had been lying, since my word was dirt compared to the word of an experienced staff member of the school. I couldn’t hold off my fists’ trembles, and the psychologist visibly took note of it. This was going to Siberia too quickly.

“Yes. Comrade Emilova, can you accompany me?” The old hag sprung as if branded, and the excitement for having dodged the droplets was streaking down her wrinkled, fake face and pink glasses. My finger craved to point at her and spill the words fraud, false, wicked, despicable… yet all it did was scratch the itch on my leg. Pietre was still in his own world, but I knew he was watching me peripherally through calmness and ice.

The two adults blabbered silently outside, leaving me and this filthy kid alone, the only presence of security being the muffled words of those aged. Maybe I could try and defuse the situation while he was bound by the lack of action, as it was a smart way to find more about how he functioned.

“This’s both shaking us lots of trouble, Pietre. You’d rather be anywhere else, I agree.” I managed to get his attention, his greys apathetically waiting for further words to crawl out. “Let’s just throw this and deal on with our lives. What do you say?” I put my hand closer to him, gesturing the end of terror and hate, but then he grabbed the gauze from his nose and threw it at me, his filthy blood leaving a stain on my cheek.

“You think you’re tough? Leper. Anorexic fool trying to stray like something he ain’t. I’ve known others like you, perverted fucks enjoying getting pummeled until they’re crying blood.” I was vibrating with the bitterness of organic intimidation. Who the hell did this bony idiot think he was? He was nothing more than an urban wretch, nothing more than phlegm.

Yet, he was smiling almost inhumanely, the edge of his lips as if cutting further into his face, while his hands grabbed the bottom of his baggy shirt, lifting it up and exposing a sight which made me flinch and gag.

His stomach, as if gutted and sewn back together, the many traces of healed scars forming borders of fleshy history, while crevices of missing skin spoke of deep stab wounds.

What was this… what had he went through?! How was he alive, and why, why was his body riddled with this agony? His body spoke more than his tongue, and my intimidation felt like a feather against rock. There was no comparison or competition to be made, this kid had gone through more than I could view as possible.

And that struck my survival instinct. I wanted out, now. I jumped off the chair, seeking the exit for my body, but the moment I had done that, Pietre was in front of me, holding in his hands nothing but a stance of power and vengeance, the blood from his nose crawling into his mouth.

Shout, run, live.

But in the span of my thoughts, his grin spoke how he needed to show me my misplaced views. Then, my leg was pierced by this force, which got my lungs to explode and body to fall back as it was pushed mercilessly by his filth.

The adults were back in the room in no time, as it was a squeal which would’ve woken Lenin from his grave. Did he just break my bone?! How!

“By the amygdala … why’s he on the floor!” shouted the psychologist in distress to her lack of control. I wanted to answer, but was bested by my pain.

“Stubbed his leg on the chair. Bad bruise from football,” Pietre said with emotion and I could see his fakely troubled eyes as he tried to pick me up, but all I did was hit his arms in the flee of reflexivity.

“He hit me, I don’t have a bruise!” I hissed, still squirming on the floor, tho the agony was subsiding from the core of my marrow.

“Get up,” the psychologist ordered and pulled my body to sit on the chair, her glare trying to find the deceit in my intentions, yet still she couldn’t make on what was actually going on. She sat again, motioning to my math teacher, slash hag, to leave and close the door. This was deepening of becoming something too big.

“The hostilities between the two have proven to be a dissonant tract for violence and disobedience. Blame cannot be solely pinned, so what you’re both advised to do is to join the Komsomol youth this summer. Otherwise, you’re going to be expunged from this institution.”

But, how was this going to fix anything?! This… devil didn’t care if he’d get removed or not. He was even searching for where I exactly lived… And now I had to go and work in the fields, harvesting until my hands bled? For free?

“I’ll talk with your headteacher as to review what more should be undertaken to make you both learn that this is unacceptable behavior. Am I understood, Pietre, Slavich?”

“Yes, comrade Nikiforova,” we both droned in unison of robotic rigor, and then I was asked to leave, while Pietre remained with her. I was supposed to go to class, but my feet only carried me to safety, which was anywhere else where Pietre wouldn’t be able to find me.

It was an old block basement, away from the school and orphanage, in which I could crawl my way in, using a big enough hole that dogs tended to be lured into during the frost days of winter. I had my suspicions for the freedom of entry and its concept, as usually you’d not see the same dog ever again. Nothing could prove my doubt, but the lack of fangs in my legs was comforting enough as I rested on the dusty-abandoned mattress in someone’s basement-disrepaired, carton layering spread above it.

Here the roaches were half my fist and sometimes I’d wake up thinking I’m being chewed on by these heat-loving creatures. But now, they were my guardians, the darkness was my cloak, the coldness was my alarm and the destruction was my home.

I wasn’t going to suffer the consequences of my mistakes.

With a calm breath, I fell asleep with my hefty knife in my hand.

Getting this far, my walk was just beginning.