CHAPTER VI: PAIN IN WHAT?..
November 20, 2023 at 12:50 PM
“There is nothing worse,
than to see scum
in a person,
whom you considered
L
Y
D
W
And
M”
The author of the quote is not known
After changing my clothes, I headed towards the hall. Recently it has become more difficult to change clothes. I have to go to the toilet, to the farthest stall, so that no one sees. Sometimes I go into the first one, touch my thighs in the place where Dima touched me. Tears usually started to come out of his eyes. But I always forced myself to stop. Must not. You can not cry, in any case. Otherwise I won’t be a strong brother. I will not be the one who can protect. After leaving the toilet, I went up to the second floor, went into a spacious hall. The light was muted, yellow. This added a certain vibe to the room, because in the middle of the huge hall there were two huge marble columns, and crystal chandeliers hung between them. The light from them fell softly on the parquet, which was also illuminated through huge windows half-covered with thick curtains. I adored this place, it was a real outlet in that dullness, without Dima. Music was playing. It was definitely samba — my least favorite and one of the most difficult dances. I won’t say that only this dance is the most difficult. No. They are all incredibly complex, fast and highly coordinated. But I like them so much! All ten! The coach came up to me. — Hello, ginger, — having said that, he smiled. And he stretched out his hand, it was just huge. But I never lost my head, I shook it. — How are you? — Hello. Okay, thanks— I hate lying to the coaches, but there’s nothing I can do. — Am I with you today? — No, with a Horn, — he answered, going around and patting on the shoulder. — Okay, good luck with your training. — Thank you, — I smiled wryly. — What the hell are you doing?! The coach shouted from the far end of the hall. — I told you to do this! And you’re doing it like some kind of sausage. Why don’t thoughts work?! — she screamed at the whole hall so much that she drowned out the music from the tape recorder, next to which there were many coffee mugs, there was also a scattering of CDs with music. Andrey and Arina finished literally a few minutes after that scream, passing by one of them said: — Watch out, she’s evil. — Thank you, — I whispered, and my partner came into the hall. Evelina. I hate her. She’s so arrogant, sweet to the point of gag reflex. — Hi, — she said with contempt. At least, that’s what it seemed to me. — Why are you standing there?! — the coach shouted a little. She never did that at the beginning of the class. I was her favorite. Who made her so angry? I stepped onto the parquet floor, blinded by the joy before training. My only outlet.Dima
(19:52)
The light from the windows of the huge hall lay on the tiles in front of the House of culture. I wanted to go into it so much. But the pain in my heart was breaking my ribs. Remember. I remember pinning him to the wall, beating him. I remember how Vlad shunned me, I literally heard those sobs in his soul when he looked at me after the fight. It was unbearable. “With one eye. Just one,” I said to myself. Having gone up to the second floor, I looked into the hall. He was there. He smiles at the coach who shouts at him. He goes to the far corner, takes a couple of steps while this woman is circling around him. She directs his hips, breaks his legs, trying to turn them around, screams: — Yes! That’s it, point the hip at the foot! Why the hell didn’t you twist it?! — the cry was heard throughout the hall, because no one else was studying, and the music was not playing. One more step. Cotton. The hand flew over the thigh. Vlad’s face trembled a little, for a moment it was distorted in a grimace of pain, and then it became normal, happy again. “You know, the coaches love me in training. I can be said to be their favorite,” Vlad’s words pierced into the soul. — “In training, I feel very free, not like at home. This is my outlet.” I can’t look at him. I can’t hear him anymore. I can’t listen to these cries of his soul. Those sobs. This pain. I’m to blame. I am. Turning away, I heard another pop, and then noticed the clothes. All black, neatly folded. A bag full of something. I went over to his things. Opened the bag. There were sneakers, a T-shirt, a cap and sweatpants. He would never have taken them to the gym. I pulled them out. Then, without looking, he put his hand into the bag. And I felt something. These were packages from open patches. There were a lot of them. I abruptly pulled my hand out of the mouth of this terrible creature. It seemed as if these packages were teeth, sharp and dangerous. I went back to the hall, looked inside. He stood there, listened to the instructions and smiled this time with a slight smile. It was not so bright, through it I read the pain caused by the blows to the legs. And then I remembered where I hit him during anger. I carefully chose the places so that no one could see them from under my clothes. So that no one would find out. And he beat me, even though I didn’t feel it, because he was angry. Looking at my hands, I felt so disgusted with myself. These hands have destroyed what he and I have been building for many years. They were in a huge amount of plasters from the blows of best friend . I scared him to such an extent that he doesn’t even try to approach me. And why would Vlad try to approach? Is he disgusted with me? There were too many emotions. That’s why I put everything back in its place and ran down the stairs. And then to the exit. It was already late evening outside, about eight o’clock. The sun sank below the horizon. And the only illumination on the street were lamps and light from huge windows. The cold wind burned my face as I ran away from the Palace of Culture, into the forest, artificially planted, but still a forest. I went into it about five meters and looked at my hands again. They seemed vile to me. Filled with those quiet sobs that Vlad made during the fight. No. He didn’t hit me. Then why did I think it was a fight? It was a beating. I’m like Ilya. “You know I’ll always help. Just say the word.” “…I will always help…” “…I’ll help…”…stirring sadness in coffee,
putting on a smile every day,
eye meetings, tender pain, torture,
madness of salty rooms,
lilac fog listens to your a whisper,
a cold ice floe of hope stretched a thin thread of faith,
and the sky is crying with rain
and can not understand why we are not together.
I’ll finish the sky. I’ll finish the spring dawn
skinny jeans, shirt, sneakers, and I’m gone.
The crumpled time of hopes…
It was Vlad. He sang it, stroking my head a little. That made me cry in his arms. He pulled me a little closer. And he shackled me like my mother in her affectionate and warm hands. — Cry, cry. I give you permission. You’ve been very strong, for a very long time,” he whispered close to his ear. He continued humming the song without using his voice, just a soft moo. I opened my eyes. Light flooded the view, blinding. I was lying on my bed and tears were pouring from my eyes, and my left arm was hugging a huge pillow-a dakimakura with the image of Yoichi. The whole pillow was wet with tears. Turning over to the right side, my gaze fell on Vlad and me, framed with dolphins. Melancholy enveloped me. So native and burning. It was a gift from him for my birthday. The photo was already framed, which is why I didn’t get steamed up, and put it right away. To wake up every morning and see that happiness. How I want to see Vlad, look into his eyes filled with love, feel the care and warmth with which he addressed me. Taking the phone, I unlocked the screen. I was met by my boyfriend, he was smiling a bright smile, which I barely begged him to take a picture of. But I didn’t want to see him. I wanted to look at Vlad. After opening the gallery and scrolling through the art of half-naked Yoichi and Keitaro, I stopped at joint photos. They were so bright, not only because it was the first of September, but also because they were memorable photos. After them, we took a productive walk: we reached Marx Square (50 kilometers from the school), went to the shopping center, bought books, and then, while no one was looking, confessed to my orientation. Then I was very embarrassed. And for a very long time I decided to do this, because it’s not just a confession. He could turn away from me, leave me, as others did. But he hugged me, hugged me very close, patted me on the back and said: “I am very glad that nothing is eating you now.” But how did Vlad understand that it had been tormenting me for a long time? And then I remembered our changes. Our joyful days. I remembered how many times I gave him my hand when he fell. Our gatherings in the dining room. I remembered his smile. The way he gave me a dakimakura with my favorite character. “Have I lost it? Maybe we can fix something, make it better?” “No, this is the end. I won’t forgive you,” — the voice in my head belonged to Vlad. He wasn’t evil, he wasn’t kind, he was just inanimate. “I’ve never done anything out of the ordinary without a reason” “But, then, in the dining room, you knocked over the soup on the kid. On purpose. " “Have you forgotten? He was shitting you behind your back, saying what a jerk you are. I couldn’t think of anything else” “But… then, what motivated you this time?” “Is it important?! You won’t get it back anyway. You have no idea how much it hurt me, not physically. After all, I believed you, I knew that you would never hit. What did you do? Traded friendship for a dick!” He was definitely right. It’s all my fault. Turning over on my left side to Yoichi, I hugged him with all my strength and began to cry quietly. “<I> There is nothing wrong with tears, just come to me and tell me everything that’s on your mind, or just wait. You’ll feel better. And if I’m not around, here’s dakimakura for you, hug her, cry. This will help you cope completely. I </i>believe in you, you are very, very strong,” Vlad said to me on my birthday, holding this pillow in his hands. I never slept without her that day. And this day was the first since I had a sad dream. Before the gift, they constantly tormented me. The alarm clock rang. I didn’t use the phone, because I just didn’t wake up. But I don’t want to get up now, when it’s so bad, and the bed is so warm… The ringing went on and on, which made me very angry. At the moment I couldn’t stand it, took a pillow and, without looking, threw it at the clock. They fell with a clang, there was a crack. Turning around, I saw that the clock was lying on the floor, its hands stopped at nine-thirty, and the pillow was a few centimeters from the frame, ready to throw it on the floor. Jumping to my feet, I ran up to them and, removing the pillow, put them in the place of the clock. The frame looked much better here. There was nothing to do. I have already got up with little Dima. The bathroom was literally around the corner, but you still shouldn’t leave the room with a riser. But maybe it will be possible to disguise it somehow? I went to the closet, opened Vlad’s drawer. Yes, I have his mailbox. Due to the fact that we often stay overnight in the summer. He never took things out of his drawer, he wore mine, and I often wear his, even though those things that are normal for him are a little tight for me. Two tears rolled down her cheeks. Are we going to get ready now? Like before? I want to see him in my things. Rummaging through the neatly folded stacks, which was uncharacteristic for the rest of my closet, I took out the gray baggy pants that Vlad brought me relatively recently when I was outraged that he was taking my tights from my pajamas (I never wore them, even with him). I put it on and looked in the mirror: although the morning boner was visible, it was not so noticeable. Going out into the corridor, I quickly slipped into the bathroom, locked the latch and began to clean up: brushed my teeth, washed my hair, neatly arranged my hair and, just wanted to go out, an SMS came to the phone. It was from my boyfriend. Artem (10:07): Good morning. How are you? Shall we go for a walk? Dima (10:07): Db. No, I don’t feel well Artem (10:08): All right then. I’ll go with Fedya and Gray then Dima (10:08): OK This was our communication with him. I don’t see anything romantic here, but it was pleasant. And now it is quite necessary. I looked in the mirror. Something seemed a little strange to me, but I couldn’t figure out what. I don’t want to go anywhere. Moreover, today is Saturday. It’s a day off for me. Taking the phone in my hand again, I looked at the number. 5.10 — today is Saturday — Vlad’s tournament. The first competition in two years that I won’t attend. And all because of me. I got out of the bath, went into the kitchen, made sandwiches: bread, a thin layer of mayonnaise, a small piece of sausage and a piece of cheese. I put it in the microwave for a minute and took out a jar of chicory. Poured two spoons and added three sugars, stirred and poured boiling water. By this time, the microwave had finished its work, and, taking out three hot sandwiches that sizzled a little from the temperature, headed to his room. There was no sign of my father. Entering the room, he put the mug and plate on the desktop opposite the bed, locked the door and took out the diary — a black leather-covered notebook. It was a storehouse of my emotions and experiences, without special grammar and division into paragraphs, as normal people do. It was just a solid text, with different dates. Turning over the first page, I read the inscription that Vlad left in it: “ Well, what can I say?.. Well… polar!“He often read my diary and left essays in the margins, sometimes drew in it. Hello dear diary. This is another entry in you, but this time her navryatli will read it. Fuck me. Very. Fucked up I don’t want to do anything. I had a fight with Vlad, he probably hates me, doesn’t want to see me and all that. And I just… just want to get to know him. It’s my fault. Very strongly. I shouldn’t have hit him, I shouldn’t have snapped…***
Hello, dear diary. How are you? Are you ready to listen to my sayings? You know, I’m sitting here now, crying, and tears are dripping from my eyes. I’m sorry about that. And I’m sorry that I’m so worthless, I can’t do anything and always make things worse. Nobody will ever see this record. After all, she is super-duper-mega-uber-secret. Just like you. And even Dima won’t know. Now there will be an appeal from me to Dima, so please bear with it. Hi, Dim. How are you there? A few hundred kilometers away? Do you want to play? Shall we go for a walk? The tournament was canceled for us. No, it wasn’t canceled, I just pulled a muscle in training yesterday, so… We can spend time together. No, I don’t want to pretend that nothing happened…***
Maybe you can solve it somehow. I can be sobbing or just standing, watching. But he’s sitting in his seat, not moving anywhere. And he doesn’t laugh or talk like a zombie…***
I’m not doing anything. I’m afraid of hurting you. And I can’t be cheerful, because it’s only my fault. I’m to blame for everything. And you forgive me. It’s my fault! I am! I have no forgiveness! no! NO FORGIVENESS FOR ME! sorry! I just want to communicate again. To argue again. After all, you don’t realize that I still keep those memories with us. I remember when you confessed. I remember the photo on which I wrote wishes, and then I was ashamed and gave it along with the frame. I keep everything you gave me, but I don’t show it. Sorry. I’m sorry I’m so selfish.***
I can come to him. Or… or I don’t know. I don’t know! But I really want to talk to you. Even though I fit in the company I’m in right now. They’re digging a hole for me. That’s why I’m out of place there. I want to be with him. Communicate. Laugh. Just keep quiet with him. But it will be much more pleasant than being with Artem. With Vlad, I am me. Do you understand? I am Me. No one else. I didn’t notice how the tears were flowing from my eyes. How they fell on the pages, making them uneven. But I felt this relief — emptiness in my chest. I want to sleep. I looked at my watch. It was 11:57 and there were six scribbled pages, one of which was filled with one sentence of three words: “I want to see Vlad.” Getting up from the chair, I instantly collapsed on the bed. I embraced the cool bedclothes with my cold, shackling them in my arms, plunging them into the most beautiful depths of dreams for me. I lay down a little more comfortably: I covered the top with the upper part of the blanket, and chained the lower part between my legs. This is my usual sleeping style. Closing my eyes, I was carried away into the depths of the storm — a nightmare.Vlad
(an hour before writing the diary)
I sat down at the computer to do my homework in Russian. It wasn’t particularly difficult, about ten minutes. But then my father burst into the room, grabbed my hand and started screaming. — What the hell! You should have gone to the tournament! And don’t fucking suffer! — But… the leg… — What a fucking leg! All people are like people! There’s Igor with a temperature under forty dancing! And nothing, he didn’t die! — he was very angry. — And you just have a sprain! STRETCHING! And you’re sitting here! — But… — the blow went ringing on the legs, the father missed the belt a little. —Please don’t,” I whispered softly, backing up against the wall. — What the fuck is quieter! You fucking piece of shit unfinished! The whore! — he was walking very loudly, the brother, a few seconds ago sitting on his chair at the table, huddled in a corner under the table. — Daddy, please… The blow landed on his knees, and another, another. I collapsed to the floor, tears poured from my eyes, which caught my brother’s frightened look. He looked at me with horror, at how the belt and buckle were walking on my back, arms, and head. His eyes were filling with tears. And I told him, with my lips alone: — Everything will be fine, don’t worry. He won’t touch you, — he was able to catch even the slightest movements of the lips. That’s why I always cursed in front of him only in my head. After all, he will understand. Then I looked into his eyes. He was still scared. I smiled. This made my father even angrier than before. I covered my head with my hands, and the blows didn’t last long. I didn’t give him a reason to continue: I didn’t shout, I didn’t beg him to calm down, I didn’t smile. For several years I have already realized that this cannot be done. Under no circumstances. The blows tore, as if they were peeling off the skin on the whole body. They burned and froze every bruise, ruptured capillaries. A vein ruptured in his leg. I felt it quite clearly. One of the blows landed at the base of the skull, in the bone protruding from me. Then into the fingers of the hands that are slightly higher. — To hell with it, as you were a scumbag, so you will remain one, — said the father quietly because of shortness of breath. He left the room. Mom’s not home. — Brother, bra-ati-ik, — a little animal called me from under the table. — Get up. You are welcome. I couldn’t. Couldn’t speak or move. Couldn’t breathe. It hurt. I could only feel blood oozing from a couple of wounds on my body, as my brother lifted his T-shirt. I saw him run into the hall in horror to get a first aid kit. I heard my father driving away from home in his car. Then I saw my brother again. He was running towards me, holding hydrogen peroxide and several cotton pads in his hand. I could feel the peroxide starting to burn my skin. How my brother pulled off the rest of my clothes. How he wailed about my weight and bruises. — I’m sorry, — said the brother quietly, — I’m sorry that I couldn’t do anything. Tears poured from his eyes. — Nothing. It’s okay, it just happens sometimes. The swing swayed. — Padonok, — I whispered. — I hate you to this day. Tvarina. Motherfucker, fuck. I often cursed my father. But deep in my heart I was grateful to him. I became like this only because of him. Although… I won’t say that I like myself that way. I got up from the swing and sat on the floor. Then he lay down and closed his eyes. I’ve been dreaming of doing this for so long. But there was no time or opportunity. Or both. So I don’t want anything. It’s just… it’s not easy. It’s not very simple. And the fact that I remember all this stuff in my life proves that I’m still not okay. What did Ilya say there? Do I have derealization with depersonalization?! May be… Ilya… Ilya… Tell me, why did all this happen? What have I done wrong? And you, Maxim, what did I do wrong? What did I do at all. Dim. I’m sorry again. No matter how many years have passed, I can’t stop apologizing. I’m sorry I left you then. And stopped communicating. Sorry. I opened my eyes, the cloudless night sky collapsed. Millions of stars that seemed so far away not so long ago have become at a glance. I raised my hand and stretched it out. How I want to catch each one. The phone rang. Without looking at the screen, I answered it. — Alo? Where are you? it was a low whisper. — Yes, hello. Here I am walking. I’ll be there soon,” warmth flooded my chest. — You go ahead now. Late. — No. It’s amazing outside. You’d better come out. — No, I’m fine here, in bed. Then let’s do this: I close my eyes to it, and you will come home in the morning while everyone is asleep. OK? — OK. Sweet ones. — Sweet, kisses. — And I love you, — putting my hand, I got up from the ground and sat down on a bench, inspired, and began to remember again.
