Finally, the day 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 she'd worn 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, tinged with the smell of cigarettes. Katrin walks with confident steps, and I follow her, feeling a growing unease inside.
The streets grow narrower, darker. And then we arrive at 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. Before I can say anything, she leads me deeper into the crowd.
People stand close together, moving to the rhythm of the music, laughing, chatting. We push through them until the rest of the world fades away behind us. I don't know what awaits me ahead. But for some reason, my heart is racing too fast.
"Baby girl! So good to see you!" someone shouts from the crowd.
The people around us part, and a giant steps forward. He is bald, nearly two meters tall, with tattoos covering his body. His muscles bulge even through his clothes, and his face twists into a sinister grin. I look at him and think about our chances. Can we run? Will I have to fight him if he tries to touch my girl? Can I even win?
Yeah, Ivan was definitely smaller in build than this pumped-up brute. Katrin tries to take a step forward, letting go of my hand, but I don't allow it. I hold her hand tightly in mine. Is she crazy, walking up to this Neanderthal?
Rebel Girl turns to me and smiles.
"Everything will be fine, don't be afraid," her words are soft but carry an unshakable confidence.
I want to believe her. I want it to be true. But my heart, pounding like crazy, tells me things might not go as we expect. And when she turns back to him, I feel my hand involuntarily clench into a fist. There is going to be a fight today. And I am ready.
I am terrified, my teeth clenched. Not for myself, but for her. My heart aches with anxiety at the thought of her ending up in tears again, suffering again. I can't let that happen. My hand, gripping hers, trembles, but I don't let go. It's as if, if I release her, she'll disappear, vanish into this world full of dangers.
"Let go, he's an old acquaintance. He won't hurt me, trust me," I can see her trying to comfort me, but her words can't dispel my unease.
Reluctantly, I slowly unclench my fingers, releasing her. Katrin smiles at me, but there's a hint of sadness in her eyes, as if she understands how hard this is for me. She runs up to the man, and they hug. My heart clenches even tighter. I feel a wave of jealousy mixed with anger rising inside me.
His voice, loud and cheerful, rings out:
"It's been so long. I thought you'd forgotten about me!"
He shouts with joy, and I understand that if I were in his place, I probably wouldn't be able to hold back my emotions either. But it's not me. It's him.
"I missed you too. How could I forget about Grandpa Vi?" Her words sound warm, but to me, they feel like a punch to the chest.
Grandpa? This hulk, with his broad shoulders and stern gaze, is clearly not a grandpa. Not by age, not by appearance. A grandpa is someone kind, gentle, but this guy... he's more like a scary old geezer, as I've already dubbed him in my mind.
"And who's this you've brought with you, little one?" His gaze falls on me, and I feel rage boiling inside me.
His tone, his words directed at her—everything about him makes me want to lunge at him, hit him, push him away. Little one? How dare he call her that? My fists clench, but I hold back, even though 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's unbearable. I feel my jealousy turning into hatred. This man, this Grandpa Vi, seems like a threat, an intrusion into our lives. And I can't just stand there and watch him touch her, smile at her, try to take a place that should only be mine.
Bastard! — the word echoes in my mind, but I stay silent, gritting my teeth. I know I can't let my emotions take over. But inside, a storm is raging, and I don't know how long I can 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? Those words seem to pierce me, leaving a bitter taste in my mouth. But I can't show my feelings, can't let her see how much it hurts me.
The man gives me a stern once-over. His eyes, cold and assessing, seem to try to penetrate the very core of me, 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 can hardly believe it's the same person.
"Of course not. I'm sure you'll win today, as always, Katrinka," his words are so tender that I feel physically sick.
He hugs her, and I feel my anger, like molten lava, rising from the depths of my soul. Katrinka? That nickname, that sweet address he uses, fills me with disgust. I'm literally nauseated by him, by his behavior, by the way he looks at her, touches her. My anger, which I'm barely holding back, is ready to burst out at any moment. I don't care that she's called me just a friend. I don't care about whatever is supposed to happen today, about their talk of winning, about some event, about me being her partner. All of that seems trivial, insignificant, compared to what's happening right now.
The only thing I want is to hit him. Hard. So hard that he'll remember it for the rest of his life. Even if there are consequences. I'm ready for anything. Even if it means ending up in the hospital.
Today, a fight is inevitable if he doesn't back off from her. She's mine. And he'd better keep his hands to himself. I feel my breathing grow heavier, my fists clench tighter. I can't take it anymore.
"Katrinka," he says again, and I feel my patience running out.
Today, it will all end. Either he'll back off, or I'll make sure he can never touch her again.
"Look who's here! You even dragged your little puppy along. Or did he run after you like a true stray?" A mocking voice, filled with sarcasm and contempt, rings out. Every word hits a nerve, sparking a surge of anger and irritation inside.
This is Ivan. His face, twisted in a smug grin, is disgusting. What is he even doing here? Why has he shown up at all? Questions swirl in my head, but there are no answers. Though, honestly, I don't care anymore. My mood is so foul that I can feel every cell in my body craving an outlet for aggression. My fists clench on their own, as if begging to punch someone.
"Watch your mouth, Vanya. Or you'll leave here on all fours, like a dog," Grandpa replies calmly, but with a clear threat in his voice.
His words sound like a warning, carrying strength, confidence, and even a kind of wisdom that makes me pause for a moment. And you know what's the most interesting part? After that line, I start to like him. The enemy of my enemy is my friend, as they say. A strange feeling of respect for this man, who seems to fear no one, begins to grow inside me. But my Rebel Girl, as always, is restless. She seems to live up to her nickname. Her eyes light up with excitement, and I can feel the tension building in the air.
"I don't know if you know this, but lately, I've been into making bets. How about I make one with you?"
"Hm, I like that idea. I already know what I'll get when I win," Ivan replies, and I don't like the look in his eyes.
I rush over to Katrin and sharply turn her toward me. My hands are trembling with tension, and a storm of emotions rages in my chest—fear, anger, anxiety.
"Are you out of your mind? You know what he'll ask for if you lose. How can you even bet like that?" I blurt out, trying to get through to her.
My words sound harsh, almost desperate, but all I see in her eyes is stubbornness and excitement. It's as if she doesn't understand what she's getting into—or simply doesn't want to.
"Stay out of grown-up conversations, mutt," the guy snaps at me, as if swatting away a pesky fly. His voice is cold, but I'm not focused on him. "So, do we have a bet?" He turns to Katrin again, raising his head and looking her straight in the eyes. Her gaze is defiant, but I can also see a shadow of doubt that she's trying hard to hide.
"Yes. A bet for a wish," Katrin stubbornly continues, as if playing some dangerous game where the stakes are too high.
"If I win, you'll leave me alone for good, and if you..." She trails off, as if hesitating to finish.
"Then you'll sleep with me," his words ooze arrogance, confidence, and something disgustingly predatory. My blood boils, and I feel everything inside me tighten with rage.
"No, I'm against this," I butt into their conversation again, trying to stop this madness. My words sound rough, but there's helplessness in them. I know I can't just stop this, but I also can't stand aside.
"Don't worry, I'll be gentle with her, just like last time. Well, you saw it yourself," Ivan adds, and his words feel like a slap in the face.
There's a vile self-assurance in his voice that makes me shudder. Memories I'd tried to erase come flooding back, bringing with them a wave of anger and disgust.
I can't take it anymore. My body lunges forward on its own, fists clenched, ready to punch him, to wipe that smug grin off his face. But at the last moment, a strong hand grabs my shoulder, stopping me.
"Calm down, kid. He's not winning this race," a calm but firm voice says.
It's Grandpa Vi. His words sound like an order, but there's a confidence in them that soothes me a little. He stands nearby like a rock, and his presence gives me some kind of hope.
I take a deep breath, trying to calm down, but the storm inside me still rages. Katrin, Ivan, Grandpa Vi—they all seem like part of some insane play, one I don't want to be in but can't leave.
Wait, did he say "race"? A race? What? Are they really going to participate in a race? Has she completely lost her mind? Katrin, that fearless but reckless girl, decides to risk her life? And, by the looks of it, I'm supposed to be her partner. No, no, and no again! I'm never getting in a car with her! This is madness, and I won't let it happen. Fear and anger mix inside me, tightening my throat.
"You didn't know? There's a race today, and Katrin is participating, just like Ivan. It's their first race together," the man says, as if it's the most normal thing in the world.
I stand there, stunned, trying to process what I've just heard. How do I stop this? How do I prevent what could end in disaster? Thoughts swirl in my head, but none of them give me an answer.
"What do I need to do to stop this race?" I ask, hoping he has a solution.
"Sorry, but there's no way you can stop it," he replies with a hint of sadness in his voice, as if he understands my worries but can't help.
Ivan leaves, leaving me alone with my anxious thoughts. And then she returns—Katrin. Her eyes burn with excitement, but there's also a shadow of doubt in them. She knows I'll be against it, but she must have decided it's worth it. I look at her, feeling my fear for her mix with disappointment and anger. How can she be so reckless? And how can I stop her?