„I would burn in hell to keep you safe." – insert from the movie "The Godfather II"

„If you look for perfection, you'll never be content." – Leo Tolstoy

„Love is irrational...It doesn't follow rules. Not even its own rules. Love is the one thing in the universe that's unpredictable.." – Rick Yancey

Chapter 5

~Phillip~

"Guys, you think this is really that serious?"

Many things in this world annoyed me. For starters, and at the top of the list, Quattro formaggi pasta. I couldn't understand how some could tolerate the smell of that disgusting sauce. It was especially confusing to me how a certain person, who was barely above the line of malnutrition, wished to eat exactly that, instead of his usual salad of different types of herbs, on an excursion in the junior year of high school every day for lunch. Secondly, there were my parents. I didn't need a specific reason, it was more than obvious how much deep egoism, pretentiousness, racism, and superiority complexes. were buried in their body. I also hated the color gold, a lot. I especially hated it in combination with blonde hair and green eyes. There was something eerie in the way those eyes aroused fire in me. But still, Martin's screaming voice that pierced my ears threatened to beat the competition.

"No Martin, the kidnappers are just lonely and they were organizing their first party, now they will bring back these students they kidnapped back," Iris commented sarcastically.

We were seated in the stands of the university stadium. After Anya and her subjects left, Marco, Martin, Iris and I decided to cool off a bit, far away from everyone. Considering the recent events, it was not surprising that the university was almost empty.

"This is getting serious. What are we going to do?" Martin sat angrily on the edge of the seat and almost fell. If the atmosphere wasn't so tense, everyone woul0064 surely laugh.

It wasn't my parents who insisted on continuing with the plan. I couldn't help but think about what she said. I wanted to believe she lied. It was unrealistically necessary for me to preserve the only remaining thread of hope that my parents were not completely evil. However, as the thought came, so it went. Anastasia Arsin was a lot of things, but she was not a liar.

"What can we do?" Iris asked not really expecting an answer. We were all aware that we knew practically nothing about the kidnappings.

"I don't know, Iry, but what are we going to at the sleepover?" Martin continued. Marco let out a sound that sounded like he couldn't believe what he was hearing. He was never a guy who speaks a lot, but his expressions were enough to know what he meant.

"I don't know, it seems like that's the perfect opportunity to attack," Iris murmured. As much as she tried to hide her concern, it was more than obvious. In the end, Iris was a scholarship holder.

"I don't know how smart it is for you to go, Iry," I spoke for the first time since Her Majesty left. My voice sounded weird even to me.

She turned her head sharply in my direction and shot me a look. I didn't pay much attention, there weren't many things that could startle me.

"No, Philip, if you all are going, I'm going," she said firmly.

"But Iris, it's not safe, you're-" Martin started but she interrupted him.

"Scholarship holder, yes, I know I am, but that changes nothing. I've never been a coward, so I don't plan to become one now."

"This is not the time to prove your courage."

"It's easy for you to say."

They continued arguing for some time. I didn't pay much attention to what they were saying. It wasn't my parents who insisted on continuing with the plan. She said that on purpose. I saw it in her eyes. Those green pupils were full of hatred. She wanted to beat me so much that she played against my biggest weaknesses. I cursed the days when she found out what they were. The thought hovered over my head constantly: How can so much malice be hidden in such a tiny body?

After a while, Martin decided to go. He was supposed to meet Oliver who knows where and do who knows what. I frowned at his explanation. I was glad he was happy, but the very thought of someone close to me spending time with her was enough to drive me crazy. Plus, like icing on the cake, Martin's car broke down, so Marco offered to drive him. As if one person wasn't enough, two had to go to her.

"Are you ok?"

I didn't even hear when Iris sat next to me and put her hand on my shoulder as a sign of support and, I guess, consolation. She wasn't good with words. She was always ready to help, to defend. She was loyal, more than anyone else I knew. But again, she didn't know the way with words. She would rather beat up the person who hurt you than try to comfort you with advice. It was poetically funny how now she couldn't beat the person who did this to me, she couldn't hurt the person who hurt me. She didn't dare.

"I'll live."

Although she wasn't good with words, it was easy to talk to her. There was hardly a person in this world to whom I would open up in these moments, but I knew that she was there and that I could, that she would never betray me. She was a good friend that girl, a good person. Too good for her own good.

"What's the matter?" She asked me carefully. I probably didn't manage to hide my anger as well as I had hoped I did. And yet, beneath all those layers of rage, something else could be seen.

"That whole thing with my parents-" I didn't finish the sentence, I let the words float in the air. She understood, of course.

"Something tells me it's not just that," she murmured gently, and yet surely. No, gentle was not an adequate word. Iris was not gentle, she never even tried to be. Not like someone else. For some, it was given, natural. However, she was right, of course, it wasn't just that. "You can talk to me, you know that, right? You are like a brother to me, Philip, I will always be there for you."

That was enough, that moment, those words, were enough for me to start throwing everything out in the light. I was so angry that I got up and started walking angrily around the stands. I was furious and said so many things that I don't remember them anymore. I couldn't help but say how conceited, arrogant and rude she was. How much she got on my nerves. How much I couldn't stand her. I kicked a couple of plastic seats, even cracking one at some point. Broken, it flew meters away from us. And yet it was not enough. She was driving me crazy and I needed to burn something, to burn the world.

Iris was just watching me. Nonetheless, I didn't pay much attention to her, and I wouldn't have heard her even if she had tried to talk to me. I was too much in my red world to pay attention to others. However, when I finally, after 17 minutes, finished my tantrum, and turned to her, it was clear to me what had happened. She sat relaxed in the stands, with her elbows on her knees and her head in her hands. She looked like she only needed popcorn so she would feel like she was watching a real-life movie. Even a hint of a smile could be found on her lips. I started to get annoyed again. I had a feeling that I would soon visit a mental institution if I continued like that.

"Are you done?" She asked me, trying to hide her smile. I rolled my eyes and sat back in the seat next to hers. I let out a deep breath and leaned back.

"I'm glad you find the whole thing entertaining," I told her in irritation.

"I'm sorry, Philip, but if you could've just seen yourself. It's ridiculous how interactions of two and a half seconds with Barbie can drive you insane." Now she couldn't even hide her laughter, in response to which I just rolled my eyes.

"How's stalking Marco going?" I decided to change the subject before I brought myself to a premature heart attack.

"I'm sorry?" She looked at me in shock. It was my turn to laugh.

"You're not as subtle as you think you are, Iry," I winked.

"Dickhead," she murmured and stood up, to which I sent her an air kiss. "Just because you're unhappily in love doesn't mean you have to make our lives miserable."

Bitch.

-

"Remind me what we're looking for here?" Iris said obviously annoyed.

After our conversation, the atmosphere between us was a bit tense. The words of the other one were spinning in both our heads. However, although we were currently angry at each other, we had a task. Actually, I had a task and she was collateral damage.

"You know I have to buy clothes for a stupid sleeper," I bit back.

"Yes, yes, you said seventy times how your mother is this and that because she's making you go shopping for somewhere you don't even want to go. That's pretty clear. What is not clear is why I'm here." She was unbearable when was in such moods. I wondered if maybe PMS was responsible for this behavior.

"Because you need clothes too, and I need a victim," I answered her honestly.

"You can't buy me anything," she replied firmly, to which I rolled my eyes. She had never let me buy her anything. The only exception was her birthday. I had to respect her decision because I understood her. To say that my parents didn't like would be the understatement of the decade.

"Okay, I still need to pick up my dearest mom's dress from the boutique."

"Ah no. if you think of the same boutique I do, I'm not going into that litter of pretentious witches," she said through her teeth as if she was about to get sick.

"I know, I know, I'm not thrilled either, go get us some food then? I'll be quick."

"You didn't even start looking for clothes," she rolled her eyes.

"I can't on an empty stomach," I shrugged and she just shot me a look.

It was obvious that she was not particularly enthusiastic about my request, but in the end, she just nodded her head and headed in the opposite direction from mine.

And now to hell.

-

As soon as I walked into my mother's favorite boutique I regretted it. The strong smell of the expensive perfume did nothing but irritate my nostrils. Of course, there was no end to my bad luck. The saleswoman clung to me as if we had known each other all our lives. The girl was about my age. It seemed I saw her a couple of times in one of my classes. However, there was nothing on her that would make me remember her, not even her fiery red hair. Objectively speaking, she was a beautiful and handsome girl. Nevertheless, she wasn't attractive to me, and nor was she provoking any kind of reaction from me. Even in these moments when she desperately tried to put her body around my arm, there was nothing on her that would make me allow it. It was clear what she wanted, her suggestive look didn't leave much to the imagination. She even tried to subtly lower the top of her shirt to give me a better view of her cleavage. Pathetic indeed. I didn't really judge someone trying to get what they wanted, but when the person you want is obviously trying to keep you two meters away from you, it's a little pathetic and tasteless to continue with that attempt.

"Are you sure you don't want anything else?" She asked me seductively. At least she tried. In my ears, it sounded like everything but. At the same time, the suggestion itself was so simple and obvious that I couldn't help but roll my eyes. I just wanted all this to end, to get the fucking dress and leave. However, just then, the blue strands of hair caught my attention.

Damn it.

I tried to ignore her, I really did, but the irritating thoughts in my head wouldn't let me. I headed in her direction toward the cabins. The saleswoman called me back but one rejecting movement of my hand was enough to silence her.

Anastasia Arsin had a real mini fashion show in front of the cabin. I was a little further away from her so she wouldn't notice me but still with enough visibility to be able to see what she was doing. Dress after dress, skirt after skirt, top after top, as she tried on, she went out to show her friend, Mia. She asked for an opinion on everything, for every piece of clothing, and there were many of them. Mia nodded constantly and gave signs of approval. And what else was she supposed to do? Everything suited her perfectly. As disgusting as she was on the inside, she was as beautiful on the outside. It was sad, really, to waste such beauty.

For some reason, I couldn't stop looking in her direction. Even when Mia went somewhere and she was left alone, my eyes were focused on her. She stood in front of a huge mirror with a thoughtful expression on her face. The rose gold dress she was currently wearing barely covered anything. The deep cut on the chest and just enough material to cover the buttocks did not leave much to the imagination. Of course, her long legs were the main attraction. One look at them, that lasted a millisecond, was enough for the image to be sealed in the deepest parts of your brain forever. She looked like a trophy, like every man's dream. Glamorous, sexy, beautiful, she even possessed that angelic beauty. She was not exotic in that sense of the word, she had something else that drew her in, she was a lady, a duchess, a queen. You had the feeling that you would destroy her if you touched her, that you would get her dirty. If visualization of the word "beauty" was needed, she would be the prime example, the only example.

However, I did not let that fool me. Those beautiful, dull eyes hid much more. There was the conceit, narcissism, and even malice. How is it possible to feel the attraction towards such a being, no matter how perfect it is in every other sense? She was too shallow and superficial for bigger things, for things that were more important than her.

I was so engrossed in my thoughts that I didn't even notice him. Thirty years old, about my height, dirty blonde hair, a classic example of a try-hard bodybuilder. Apparently he was on steroids, his chicken legs were proof enough. However, his appearance was not what horrified me.

He was looking at her. He was staring at her with the look that every sociopath has, every predator when he sees his prey. I didn't like it. Something primitive in me awoke and I clenched my fists. In my head, I could already imagine my arms around his neck. They would seem very poetic actually. Especially if he made the sounds of parting with life.

Does he believe in God? I wondered.

Before I could analyze it more deeply, Anya turned and headed back to the cabin. The jerk didn't even try to wait but walked towards her from his hidden place behind one of the shelves.

Blood rushed through my veins. I was ready to slaughter him at that moment, I didn't care about the years I would spend in prison. I wanted him on the floor, if possible with no oxygen in his lungs.

Of course, I couldn't hold back. After he took only two steps, at a speed that even Flash could not reach, I practically teleported myself in front of him.

"You're going somewhere you little bitch?"