True Romance

And

Marek had been running after the tall, slender man for several minutes. Although the fleeing man looked to be in his fifties, he easily maintained a safe distance from the twenty-five-year-old chasing him. The knife wounds in the young man's stomach and arms were becoming increasingly evident, and although he was very athletic, he was slowly losing his strength.

"He won't get away this time," he thought. "I have to get him..."

He summoned the last of his remaining energy and accelerated as quickly as he could. He felt his head begin to spin, but his opponent didn't seem tired. Passing people fled out of their way and shouted something at them, but the words didn't reach Marek. The short November day had long since ended, and the first drops of cold, autumn rain could be seen in the streetlight. The tall, older man kept turning around to check how far behind him the boy was. Suddenly, he spotted an alleyway to his right and turned into it. Marek, half-conscious, tried to follow him but collided with an unsuspecting young girl who was rounding the corner. Weakened by blood loss and the effort of the chase, the impact caused him to stagger and fall. The girl, thrown back by his weight, also fell, but she immediately got up. Marek struggled to raise his head. He saw a slender figure disappearing in the distance into the increasingly heavy rain. He tried to get up, but immediately found himself back on the wet sidewalk.

"Watch how you run!" the girl shouted. "Other people are walking the streets too... because of you, I'm all wet!"

With a superhuman effort, the young man pushed himself onto his hands and knelt down on his knees.

"You have to... you have to help me up... I have to... I have to catch this..." he said with difficulty to the girl.

"What?! You hit me, I'm all wet because of you, and I still have to help you?" the young brunette snapped.

She looked angrily at the kneeling Marek, and suddenly, in the streetlight, she noticed that the rivulets of water dripping from his clothes were red. Blood.

"Are you okay?" she asked uncertainly, approaching the boy slightly. "Are you okay? Are you hurt? Maybe I should call an ambulance?

" "I'll manage... Just help me up," he replied weakly. "What's your name...?"

"Magda..." she whispered in a trembling voice. "I'd better call for help...

" "Madzia..." Marek managed through clenched teeth. "I'm sorry... for bumping into you, and I'm asking... for help to get up..."

The girl approached him and allowed him to take her hand, then braced herself and pulled him to his feet. Some passersby paused briefly to observe the situation, but then hurried away in the pouring cold November rain. Marek, swaying on his feet, looked at Magda, whom he had just met. Her long, black hair, wet, plastered to her cheeks, stared at him with large, brown eyes, trembling, partly from the cold, partly from fear. She was pretty and young. The boy wanted to say something, raised his hand, and at that moment lost consciousness, falling onto his companion. She was unable to support the much heavier, well-built man. Marek woke up in a hospital bed. He tried to move, but felt pain in his abdomen and left arm. He looked at the area and saw bandages. Slowly

,

it dawned on him what had happened. He had lost consciousness, weakened, and the girl he had met had to call an ambulance. He slowly got up and sat on the bed, then pressed a button on the wall to call a nurse. A moment later, an elderly woman with slightly graying hair appeared in the room.

"Oh, you're awake," she said cheerfully in greeting. "You were having a rough time, but everything should be alright now

." "I hope so too," the boy replied, smiling. "How long have I been here?"

"For two days, you lost a lot of blood and were very weak..." the nurse replied. "Were you attacked? Perhaps you'd like to report to the police, make a statement...? The girl who brought you here said you were chasing someone...

" "No... I just had a fight with a friend..." He cut off the elderly woman's speculations – he's a bit nervous.

"Okay," the nurse looked at him warily.

"When can I leave?" he asked the woman

. "Well, you should stay for a few more days for observation, but I think once the doctor examines you and everything's okay, you'll be able to leave...

" "One more thing, did that girl leave a number or address, because I'd like to thank her?"

"Unfortunately not..."

They chatted for a while longer, and the nurse called the doctor. He examined Marek and allowed him to leave the hospital.

"You should rest for a few days," he finally told him. "You don't look like a criminal or a killer to me, even though you have many scars on your body. You should choose your friends better, because they could be the death of you..." One more thing, I didn't realize you were only 25, you look older...

" "Yes..." Marek smiled wryly. "I know, I know... Thank you, doctor, for your care and advice... I hope we won't see each other again anytime soon.

" "Me too," the doctor replied, smiling.

While collecting his belongings, he noticed his driver's license, which he always carried separately from his documents, was missing. He asked the employee, but the man said there were no other items. Marek thought he must have lost it during the chase. Dressed in dry, but bloody clothes, he left the hospital. He still felt weak. A cool, strong autumn wind dispersed the clouds for a moment, revealing the pale November sun. The young man walked slowly toward his apartment. People passing by gave him wary glances, only to return to their own affairs. Every so often, the boy took short breaks to rest and regain his strength for the journey ahead. His recent wounds reminded him with a dull, throbbing pain. This halting walk finally brought him to the old tenement building where he lived. It was a pre-war, three-story building, but in relatively good condition.

The creaking of the front door opening filled the silence inside. Almost all the apartments in the building were occupied, but at this time of day, their tenants were at work, school, or running errands outside. Marek slowly climbed the stairs to the top floor where his apartment was. He went inside and breathed a sigh of relief.

"Finally home," he thought, looking around. "It's good to be home again..."

He walked to the phone and dialed

. "Hello!" a male voice said on the other end.

"Hi Gregor, this is Marek. I had a minor accident, I was in the hospital for two days...

" A sigh of relief could be heard on the other end.

"It's good you called because we all didn't know what was happening to you. You didn't have your phone with you, you didn't say anything, we thought you were gone... What happened anyway?"

"I managed to track down that Gray again, you know, the old one... I wanted him to tell me where the vampire was... I fought him, he stabbed me twice, but luckily nothing serious..." Marek slowly recounted the events of two days ago. "I feel better now, but I could have been done for if it weren't for a certain girl... She called an ambulance..."

Gregor didn't answer for a moment, then asked:

"Is this still about the same vampire? Was that ghoul strong?

" "Yes and yes, old guy, but strong...

" "Rest for a few days now, Marek, if you need anything, let me know...

" "Sure, Gregor... thanks

." The boy hung up the phone. He could hear the strong November wind blowing outside the window. He felt tired and sleepy. He went to eat something and went to bed.

He was awakened by a piercing scream, the kind you never forget for the rest of your life. Marek instinctively reached for the gun that always lay by his bed. It wasn't there. He quickly got up and, slightly dazed, looked around the apartment to locate the source of the scream. The boy knew that voice. The scream once again filled the room. Marek spotted the slightly ajar door leading to the dining room, a faint light emanating from it. He quickly ran inside. A gruesome sight met his eyes. On the bed, a man writhing, clutching his neck, trying to stem the blood flowing from an artery at a deadly rate. The sheets had long since lost their whiteness, turning them a terrifyingly authentic crimson. A woman sat cowering in the corner of the room. She wanted to get as far away as possible from the figure who was steadily approaching her. But the bedroom was so small. She tried to escape, but she ran straight into the approaching tall, bald man. Marek stood frozen, wanting to move, to help, but his legs seemed rooted to the ground, and his hands felt like lead. The bald man grabbed the woman and simply ripped open her neck, placing his mouth over the heavily bleeding wound and beginning to sob and drink the life-giving liquid. The boy remained standing like a statue, unable to move. A tear began to run down his cheek. He recognized these people; these were his father and mother. He didn't want to look at it any longer. He closed his eyes, but the insult still seemed to linger in his mind. Suddenly, he heard gentle footsteps somewhere behind him. They were two terrified children creeping toward the door of their parents' bedroom. Marek wanted to scream,

"Don't go there! Don't look at that!"—but no sound emerged.

The older, taller man hesitantly stepped inside, passed Marek, but seemed not to notice him.

"Mom! Dad!" the terrified boy muttered.

The bald man turned toward him.

The insistent sound of the doorbell broke into this terrifying and tormenting vision, bringing Marek back to reality. He jumped out of bed and looked around the apartment uncertainly. Tears were still streaming down his cheeks. The room was dark, as dusk had already fallen outside. Everything was in its place; silence reigned, broken only by the sound of the bell.

"I'm coming," he called at the top of his lungs, though his voice still sounded weak.

He moved toward the door, clutching the bandage on his stomach. He tried to quickly recover from the shock of his recent dream.

"It was just a dream," he repeated to himself. "It was just a dream... again."