As if in some strange dream, I lost control of myself, dragging the little girl into my office, closed the door, and pushed her onto the spacious couch. She jumped up, screaming and crying alternately, banging on the glass with her clenched fists.
No one heard Zosia calling for help.
I peered out from behind the closed blinds, then calmly, unhurriedly opened the drawer. I turned around, holding a few small, green pills in my hand. I stood at the other end of the office, staring at my sweet prize. She froze, her expression mute, terrified. Amidst the green grass, I noticed something strange... surprise? Zosia probably didn't expect anyone to harm her. I smiled: I looked at the little girl, my eyes roaming over her heaving breasts, and my hands caressed her bare legs. In an instant, the tables were turned: now she was a toy in my hands, and it was even worse for her since I wanted to play.
I savored the sight of the frightened deer for quite some time until I finally couldn't bear it any longer and moved closer. She didn't move from the couch, didn't take a step toward the door, didn't scream. All the fear was concentrated in her eyes now, her body trembled even more, her pupils dilated. I was in control of the situation. I gently touched her temple. Slowly, reverently, I stroked her auburn locks, only to suddenly tug harder, tightening my grip on the shiny locks and pulling Zosia's head back. With the fingertips of my other hand, I tickled her slightly parted lips, then plunged two fingers into her pretty face. I lingered there for a moment, letting Zosia feel the coolness of the three small pills.
"Swallow," I said tenderly.
Her green eyes moistened rapidly.
"Swallow, darling, if you don't want to upset me," I repeated the command, still smiling friendly.
The little girl's eyelids dropped. I saw glistening tears streaming down my face, felt their warmth on my hands.
Oh, Zosia! Will you ever forgive me, the fire that had just broken out inside me?!
My body took over my masterful mind, and I completely lost control.
I roughly turned Zofijka around, so she was kneeling on the couch, her head resting on the backrest. My large hands were perfectly at ease with the girl's fragile frame; with one hand, I held her little arms behind her back, the other, I reached for the cable that had been strewn across my desk for days, and tightly bound the little angel's hands. I muffled her screams with my own tie, then began to examine my handiwork. She was mine.
I can't describe how wonderful Zosieńka's buttocks looked, how enticing the sound of her rapid breathing. Everything about her was so beautiful, natural, and untouched. Before touching her lightly brown skin, I hesitated. I paused my hand in the air several times until it finally rested on the lovely mound, basking in its warmth. At that precise moment, the girl moaned pitifully, then burst into tears. She had been crying ever since I caught her, but this time it was a completely different cry.
I could clearly hear the child tearing through it. The air was filled with innocence and resentment to the point I couldn't breathe.
What had I done?!
I quickly released Zofijka, set her down in front of me, placed my hands on her shoulders, and watched the life drain from her weak body.
Pale and trembling, she struggled to stay upright. I pulled away, terrified. She looked at me with a look of astonishment and incredible regret, still breathing rapidly. She shook her head slowly, as if unable to believe what had just happened. Another second, and only a scrap of white fabric flashed before my eyes. I followed her out. The ward was still in disarray. Zosieńka was weaving her way through the crowd, stumbling clumsily. At the end of the corridor, at the door to room 12, several orderlies were trying to pull Majewski into the clutches of the current.
"Zosia!" Michał shouted.
His voice was filled with a desire for explanation, mixed with resignation and unimaginable sadness.
The girl squeezed her eyes shut and ran out of the ward.
The suddenly indifferent patient allowed himself to be moved to room 12 without resistance.
Majewski recovered after about three weeks. Considering the amount of current administered, it was very fast indeed. I increased his medication. He was nervous and distressed. He was a shadow of a man. Gaunt, pale, he tormented the orderlies and constantly got into fights. His princess disappeared. Days passed, weeks passed, and she still didn't appear... I worried. Would Zosia tell anyone what had happened in my office? Or maybe... Oh, how I was afraid! Or maybe Zosia was no longer there? I could still feel her softness on my fingertips; the ward no longer filled with the scent of medicines; everything seemed to smell of Zosia's skin... Sometimes, out of helplessness, I would lie down on the grass. I would study the tree branches, watch the sun play in them, just as it once did in Zosia's hair. Why, Zosia, why must you be so beautiful?
Every Tuesday, I would sit on the couch outside the office and wait. Michał wasn't anymore.
Perhaps it was better that the girl didn't come. Yes, Zosia, you certainly wouldn't want to see your man wither away.
Majewski, crammed with medication, spent entire days in bed. Her unblinking eyes stared at the ceiling, her dry lips moving silently.
I'm sorry, Zosia.
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