"It's not funny, Estera! You hear me?! Estera!"


"Estera! Georgia! You'll talk at the table. Come on!"

Aunt Loretta looked at us with impatience when she and my mother couldn't sit still, constantly busying themselves with some food or arrangement of dishes. Yeah, most of it was brought. The girl next to me straightened up, with a wide, apologetic smile, looking at the three adults who were still waiting for us. There was no trace of the venom coming out of her mouth seconds ago.

"I just took off my shoes, mom. We're coming."

And she passed me, momentarily burning me with her pretentiously stoic, navy-blue gaze. The puffy, pulled up cascades of light red hair paired with a green formal dress only made my
mood worse. The contrast of her person with the monochrome look of my apartment was eye-burning.

Willingly or not, I followed her and, unfortunately, took a place where I had her right on the opposite side of the table, in my line of sight. The only choice I had was this or the seat next to her, in the front of the table. And then I'd be in front of practically everyone.

In this arrangement, on my side sat my mother, on Estera's side sat her mother, and in a single place on our right sat my father. And frankly, everything would have been tolerable if it hadn't been for aunt Loretta's curiosity and the company of her daughter, who was just waiting for one mistake. One slip. One detail.

So far, the conversation has been initiated by my aunt.

"So, Georgia, have you adjusted to your new surroundings?"

Slowly I tore my eyes away from the nothingness of thought. If I hadn't been sitting up straight earlier, I would've been even more upright hearing the question.

"I've been here a while, and yes, I've adjusted." My voice was calm and ambiguous.

In front of them, I literally put all my emotions aside. I knew their body language reading skills better than perfectly, and I wasn't going to be their victim. I wasn't going to let the clean page of my new life be tainted.

In my subconscious mind, however, there was a thought that for some time this clean page was not as solid as I thought. As I wanted it to be. It tore and fell apart, slowly revealing what lay beneath.

And that 'it' was also the responsibility of some of the people at the table.

"Really? Do you have any friends here?" My aunt didn't let go.

"You think I didn't ask her?" Suddenly my mother spoke up, looking at her sister with pity. Ever since she got here, she's been pretending I didn't exist and this apartment didn't belong to me. However, she stopped at this point, asking her aunt a question, and it was not working in my favor at all. "No sign of any friends."

Her sister frowned in faked surprise, and no matter how much I wanted to, I couldn't roll my eyes.

"It's a little worrisome... Well, forget it." She waved her hand, although I noticed the insincerity of the gesture, which she probably wanted to provoke me with. Effective. Then she looked into my eyes with her empty, dark blue eyes. "And what do you do for a living?"

I also caught Estera's suspicious gaze. She didn't speak, which I had already noted in my head as alarming to say the least. For as long as I could remember, she had the most to say of all those gathered, or rather, the most to suddenly, spontaneously and destructively throw out of herself.

No wonder, then, that the fake, elegant attire covering all the tattoos, the empty holes missing the earrings and the absence of any comment so far from her side irritated me mercilessly. To the point where I wanted her to scream out all the insults she had in her mouth and give up. We all knew what she was like every day. Even her forgiving mother.

And yet she had the nerve to just sit there in silence, drilling holes in me.

"I work behind the bar at the party club." I surprised both my cousin and aunt. But I didn't stop there. I had to get  i t  out of my system. Seeing each and every cautious look. "That's how I got these bandages. I was picking up pieces of a broken glass." I said a little more clearly, observing all the family members.

Because they really thought that the subtle, though long and suggestive glances at the bandages from the very moment they arrived wouldn't draw my attention at some point. Funny enough, suddenly no one was looking at them. There was a tense silence.

And then, right  t h e n, Estera decided to pull the ace card out of her sleeve.

Or rather, a bomb.

Which ticking I've been hearing all this time.

"You know what, Gigi?" From under the slightly frowned red eyebrows there was a look trying so hard to read something out of me. Her arms were resting on the table, one hand on the other. I tried not to react to the nickname. All of a sudden, she had all the attention of the table. "Something's bothering me... Because you see, I met with Rita lately in your neighborhood. You know, last night, cause my mom and I slept over at your place before we got here..."

Faster ticking.

"And from the conversation it turned out that she hadn't had your new number! I was surprised, because she's your friend!"

Seeing where she was going, I lost control. I could feel the emotion bursting out of my eyes again. The moment has come. The point of the whole day.

"And today, I found out that some Britt picked up the phone for you and claimed it was a mistake. And I gave Rita the exact number because I got it from your mom!"

Explosion.

"Of course, you gave her my number," I said to my mother, full of sarcasm. I didn't even turn my head to talk to her. A snigger came out of my mouth. Then I looked at Estera, fully conscious. "And you obviously didn't think before you did anything. As always."

"Girls..."

"And you naively thought that you would cut yourself off all your problems."

The bomb fragments with the force of the explosion cut my mind. I wasn't ready for this. I wasn't. I couldn't stand to see her raise her hands in exasperation, burning me with hate. I couldn't move but I couldn't stay with her a second longer either.

Because all of a sudden, the anesthetic I was living under started to wear off.

"They started with you."

I stood up, trembling, unsure of my own feelings. Uncertain of the strength of an open wound. The energy of a poisonous memory. The weight of burning hatred.

"Georgia! Just stop dwelling in what-"

"No, you stop it!" I suddenly interrupted my mother, not being able to listen to her completely. I didn't want to hear that. I didn't want her adding fuel to the fire.

The flame was already too high to extinguish.

"I don't want you here when I get back," I added in a cold, empty tone.

And just like that, knowing that my parents still had their own keys to my apartment, which only made me angrier, I dressed nimbly and picked up my pre-prepared bag. A moment later, I locked the apartment door behind me. I left the block. I walked at a breakneck pace.

Because I wasn't going to be with them any longer. I had no intention of listening to their arguments or seeing their angry, pitiful looks. I didn't want their inquisitiveness. I didn't want their pity. I didn't want their skepticism. I didn't want their opinions. Their criticism.

I didn't want them to cause any more of  t h a t  pain. Old but familiar pain. Buried and hidden under the ice, suddenly alive, inflamed and troubled.

The truth hurt me.

The gray sky covered the sun, leaving only the coolness. When I was almost subconsciously walking in some unspecified direction, more than once the reflexes of my hands made me angrily clench my teeth. I passed the blocks, torn by the gusts of the heavy wind, barely looking under my feet. I got lost in my emotions. In chaos.

And when I was near the bus stop, I just stopped.

I just stopped and started crying.

It was not an outburst of hysteria or a burst of rage. Salty tears at some point clouded and blurred my sight. I suddenly lost all the energy. The liquid was slowly flooding my cheeks. The energy I had inside me went away with the harsh wind. Reality has been transformed.

It was just me and the sword of Damocles hanging over my head.

After all, I ended up in the Sanctum.

The study-cafe-library, which I had visited only once, was a little fuller this time than the last time I had seen it. However, the people remained culturally peaceful, and the children who were there weren't too noisy. To the accompaniment of a silent radio, they painted on the floor canvas, talking cheerfully to each other.

And my subconscious didn't let me down. I needed a place where I could blend in with the rest of the town. Disappear for a moment and silence my mind. Be imperceptible, even with a faint trace of makeup under the eyes.

Despite the not so late time of the day, the gray sky behind the windows itself darkened the interior a little, hence the thick, vanilla candles on each of the tables. Including the one in front of me. Not far from my hands and a cup of black coffee, lying freely at the small plate.

When the little flame split and merged back and forth in front of my eyes, I licked two fingers and grabbed the wick with them. The table went dark. Covered by coolness.

"You're gonna burn your bandages."

I turned my head, momentarily disoriented. As if it was the most normal occurrence in history, Kendrick was standing at my table with his hands in his pants pockets. In an orange T-shirt, the same shade as his watch. He was looking at the candle before me, but when he caught my attention, he looked me in the eye with golden stoicism.

And then he frowned, definitely noticing something. For this reason, I looked away, staring at my hands, deliberately raising them after a while. The bandages were intact.

"Apparently not this time."

And there was a moment of incomprehensible silence.

After everything that's happened, after all the accidents and the brawls, something's changed. Although we have both been in the throes of negative emotions lately, pushing the boundaries that have never been crossed before, that was not the main factor in the shift.

It was this recent unexplained silence. And I didn't know exactly what it meant.

I could feel his eyes on me, and I was right,  making sure by looking at him again, but he was devoid of his typical features. There was no skepticism or distrust beaming from him. He was just watching me.

"Are you alright?"

And I don't know why, a slight, lazy smile formed on my face as I heard that question. But I was far from laughing.

"Is it that obvious?" I asked, looking down at the cup of coffee, my eyes suddenly strangely fixed on it.

Then, from the corner of my eye, I noticed the guy tilting slightly.

"Do you often wear smudged makeup?"

I thought it was one of those inquisitive questions. And I also thought that this close observation was on his daily basis. However, I forgot about my appearance and did not think about how it would draw attention. Although it didn't change the extent to which I cared about it.

Before I had a chance to say anything to him, a childish voice reached me from behind the chair, quickly gaining the volume.

"Kenny! For the next meeting I need to have watercolors and..." he stopped as I appeared in his eyesight and he looked at me with his eyes wide open. In his hands he was squeezing crayons with green shades. "Oh, no! Something's happened again!"

Benjamin Benston, as it was known, never ceased to surprise.

"Why don't you both sit down and not stand over me like that?" I looked at the two of them, still with a faint, though unremitting smile on my lips.

And unexpectedly, they did exactly what I said, taking the other two seats. In addition, Benjamin moved his own closer to mine, sitting on his calves to be taller.

"It's these monsters, isn't it?" He asked right off, at which he received the surprised look from his cousin.

I looked into the child's eyes, which remembered every detail in their path.

"One, if you must know."

"What kind of monster was it?"

And again, involuntarily, I looked at Kendrick, who was at the same time listening focused to our exchange, still not really understanding it. There was a look of attention and pure curiosity in his eyes. And above all, there was a lack of any skepticism.

I finally spoke up, too tired to think of any pros or cons.

"Let's just say my cousin's a little different than yours."

Benjamin nodded in understanding, and then, summoned by another boy, jumped out of his chair, saying goodbye to me with an incredibly shocking hug that I didn't even have time to return. For a moment I looked surprised at the silhouette of a little boy running towards the canvas.

I was sure I'd lost my breath for a moment.

"That's his charm." Kendrick was looking where I was. Then he looked at me, leaning on the chair, his arms crossed over his chest. "Apparently, he's even more energetic around you."

And then I felt that pressure.

"I'm not doing this on purpose-"

"I know," he interrupted me, probably having something else up his sleeve. "But I'm glad it's like that." He looked at the children again. "Believe it or not, his happiness is my happiness too."

I wasn't stupid. It only took a few meetings and conversations to notice how Kendrick treated his loved ones. Especially this green-eyed, spontaneous boy. Then, his distrust of strangers was understandable. And bearable.

"I do."

And after another moment, I felt the tension drain from me, and what was before the Sanctum was erased from my memory. For this brief moment. The gray scale outside the window was soothing. The trees danced freely with the wind, occasionally dropping single leaves.

And when Kendrick took his eyes off Benjamin, focusing them on me, I sensed that familiar energy in it all. The same reality that existed on the bench when everything went quiet. Even ourselves.

"Whatever you ran away from when you came here, it had to be something bigger," he began, connecting the dots. Honey eyes were filled with peace and... understanding? "My friends are curious, but distrustful, and they care a lot about Britt. That's why they're pushy."

"V e r y  pushy." I decided to stick to the second part of his speech, although the first had a much greater impact on me.

Suddenly, the children scattered around the room, collecting their belongings and putting all the art supplies in place. Kendrick rose from his seat, looking at his cousin as he ran toward him, and at the same time raising the corner of his mouth slightly in response to my comment.

"They're always like that, it's only a matter of time." He took his things, which Benjamin put into his hands, rushing to the exit himself. Hazel-eyed looked at me one last time. "They'll see you're probably not as bad as they think you are."

And he left the place, with the bell ringing over his head as the door opened. With one sentence, he restored all the darkness. And when I'd finished my coffee and left the place, too, all I could think about was a real, haunting thought.

I wasn't as bad as they thought I was.

I was worse.