Moorish Pigeon

I

The entire kitchen looked as if a tornado had just passed through it. The white tiles were littered with remnants of plastic wrappings and uneaten produce. Here and there, egg yolk stains glistened on the walls, and following the wet trail revealed eggshells. The remains were scattered everywhere, except perhaps in the place that seemed most appropriate for them: the trash.

Paweł stood before the open refrigerator door and stared blankly at the empty shelves. He went to the clock radio and wiped away the red yogurt dripping from its screen. The clock read 6:20, but the radio completely refused to cooperate, and instead of the morning program, only unidentified crackling sounds came from it. Only this sound sobered Paweł, who immediately felt anger replace his previously indifferent shock.

"Ewelina! Come here now!"

He bent down and opened the door under the sink. Instead of the expected green garbage can and matching broom, he saw only a tangle of old sewer pipes.

"Damn," he whispered, "where the hell was that?"

Despite hearing footsteps on the stairs, he called his wife again. He opened the door to the right of the sink. This time he found the garbage can, still in its place. In its new place. For Paweł, the entire house was a new place. Only a week had passed since he moved in with his wife and daughter. "It'll be a beautiful apartment," he recalled Ewelina's words from a month earlier. "All it will take is a little renovation and it will look like a fairy tale." Yet what he saw didn't remind him of any children's story at all, more like a nightmare, and it wasn't the unusual appearance of the kitchen that morning. The whole purchase had turned out to be a mistake. The house was simply a dud, pushed onto them by an exceptionally resourceful salesperson. So what if he had five rooms and three more in the basement, if plaster was peeling off the walls in handfuls and the entire plumbing system was only fit for a museum, where it could easily occupy space between a medieval outhouse and Roman aqueducts? As for the three rooms in the basement, things weren't looking so good either. For the first two days, they might have served as some kind of storage space, but then, with the first thaw, they turned into a wading pool, or rather, a shallow pool. The summoned firefighter simply threw up his hands helplessly, "We can't pump it out, the basement's too low," and drove off with his siren until the next call. But the most irritating thing was the sink, under which lay a veritable tangle of rusty pipes, and amidst the mess, there was no room for a garbage can! For as long as he could remember, the garbage can had always been under the sink, but not here. In this new apartment, just a minor renovation would suffice, and it would look like something out of a fairytale. "

Are you coming here or not?"

In response, a short brunette appeared in the doorway. Despite her hair being disheveled and her eyes still heavy with sleep, she looked stunning. Her low-cut nightgown revealed her full cleavage and only lightly covered the top of her thighs.

"I'm here!" Her eyes suddenly widened, and all traces of the sleep she had just interrupted vanished from her face. "Oh, Jesus! What happened? Was it a burglary? Where's Marysia?"

Paweł stood up and grabbed her by the shoulders, then hugged her. He was taller than her, so she eagerly nestled into his broad chest.

"Relax, it wasn't a burglary. All the doors are locked, and Marysia is sound asleep in her room."

Ewelina lifted her head and kissed him lightly on the chin. Then she took a step back and looked again at the mess in the kitchen.

"So what happened here?"

"I have no idea. Maybe rats?" Paweł suggested dispassionately.

She looked at him in disbelief, then smiled, tapping her forehead with her index finger.

"Do you think rats could do something like that?"

"Haven't you heard them pattering around at night? They're huge...

" "It's the Turquoise-eater," a thin child's voice joined the conversation. However, this statement was ignored by the adults.

"Maybe someone left the refrigerator door open and they took advantage of it and—" Paweł was interrupted again by the child's voice:

"Well, I told him not to come downstairs, but he doesn't listen to me anymore."

Paweł and Ewelina turned simultaneously to the girl standing behind them. The petite blonde was observing the mess in the kitchen with the seriousness only a child can muster. She raised her hand and began rubbing her chin, imitating the thoughtful gesture common among adults.

"Well, he doesn't listen to me anymore," she finally stated, her brow furrowing slightly. "I have to punish him now!"

"Wait, who are you talking about?" Paweł responded first. "Who will you have to punish, little lady?"

"Turkucia! He wasn't supposed to come down here!

" "Who?"

"Turkucia Podjatka," Ewelina continued. "He's her 'friend.' The little one invented him when we moved here.

" "Not at all! Turkuć is real!"

Paweł wanted to explain that the destruction couldn't have been caused by an imaginary friend. However, he decided it was best to remain silent for now. There are times when discussions with children should be left to their mothers. This was one of those times.

"So why didn't I find him under your bed yesterday?

" "Because he hides during the day and only comes out at night!"

"And where does he hide?"

A look of confusion appeared on the girl's face, which quickly turned into a look of wonder. Marysia entered the kitchen. She pushed a banana peel off a chair and sat down.

"I don't know," she finally replied. "When I met him, I wasn't surprised, because he was tiny, but I fed him and he grew and stopped listening to me."

Ewelina wanted to reply, but Paweł forestalled her.

"Enough of that! Young lady, go get dressed immediately!"

The girl looked at him and clearly wanted to protest, but kept the thought to herself. She humbly bowed her head and jumped down from the chair. She knew it was no use arguing with her father when he was upset. Her mother was usually a much better conversation partner. Marysia decided she would tell her exactly about Turkuć. Of course, only after Dad left for work. For now, she bowed her head and returned to her room.

"Who is Turkuć?" Paweł asked angrily as the girl emerged from the kitchen.

"Oh, never mind." The woman reached for a broom and began tidying up the kitchen. "She had imagined that some creature lived under her bed, and even brought him sandwiches."

"Do you think she could have gone downstairs and made such a mess?"

The first response the man heard was a quiet "clap" from a piece of ham, which had clearly grown tired of hanging grotesquely from the edge of the table and instead preferred to drop to the floor.

"No!" She looked at him in surprise. "You don't think Marysia could have done it!"

"Well, who?" Paweł picked up a yogurt container and threw it accurately into the trash can. "Turkuć Podjadek? "

Ewelina smiled nervously.

"Do you think our daughter spent the whole night making such a mess? It's absurd!

" "And this mess just made itself? As far as I know, neither you nor I are sleepwalking! So that leaves only Marysia and...

" "Turkuć Podjadek. Do you think she made this whole mess thinking she was playing with that imaginary creature?" Paweł merely nodded in confirmation. Ewelina looked as if she were about to swallow some exceptionally bitter syrup. "And what do you want to do? Take her to a psychologist?

" "No, I don't think it's worth it," he replied, gathering up the broken shells. "You should have a serious talk with her first, explain that there's no creature living under her bed. It's probably nothing unusual that she imagined it. We only moved into this shack a week ago; Marysia could have reacted that way to the change of environment."

"Paweł. I don't think this is the best idea," Ewelina spoke in a quiet but clear voice. The same one she used to encourage her husband to take the risk of buying an apartment. It was the tone she always used when she differed from him. Sometimes she convinced him to her views this way. Mostly, she managed to keep him calm, which turned out to be incredibly easy. Mostly—"I've already tried to explain it to her, but it's no use. If Marysia is really responsible for this whole mess, maybe it's worth talking to a specialist."

Paweł instantly turned purple and clenched his fists. He stood in front of his wife and felt the fear radiating from her. His usually blue eyes vanished, replaced by a silver, unfeeling fury.

"My daughter isn't sick! She doesn't need a psychiatrist! Do you hear me!?" Ewelina didn't even try to answer; she heard all too well. "She's fine! You'll go talk to her and explain everything to her! Do you understand?"

"Yes, but

he didn't let her finish. He left the kitchen and a moment later slammed the bathroom door loudly, leaving Ewelina alone with the mess.

II

When Paweł returned home, he smelled a delicious aroma wafting from the kitchen. A smile immediately spread across his face. He might not be a gourmet, but he could certainly be considered a perfect illustration of the proverb that the way to a man's heart is through his stomach. He had a large belly, which perfectly demonstrated his love of beer and food. Now, after a hard day at work, combined with an uninteresting morning story, he had an extraordinary desire to sit down and eat a good dinner. As good as his mother's, whose culinary skills, by the way, Ewelina rivaled.

"Honey, what smells so good?"

"Wait, you'll try it in a moment. Come quickly, I'm putting it on!"

There was no need to tell him a second time. He immediately hung his coat on the coat rack and went into the kitchen.

Ewelina stood with her back to him and was placing cabbage rolls dripping with sauce on large plates, already partially filled with potatoes. Paweł watched her for a moment, and when she felt his gaze on her, she began to sway her hips flirtatiously. He watched her buttocks slowly undulating under her short skirt, and felt his face heat up. Paweł wanted to approach Ewelina and possess her, even right here—on the kitchen floor, or even on the table. He took a step toward his wife and saw his daughter sitting at the table.

"Hi, Daddy!" she cried joyfully and threw her arms around his neck. Paweł's desire for lovemaking vanished immediately. "Look how nicely we've cleaned up!"

The kitchen really did look perfect. If it weren't for the wet marks on the walls left by the egg yolks, Paweł could have believed the morning mess had been a figment of his imagination. He felt a surge of pride in his wife and daughter, who had not only cleaned the apartment but also made him dinner.

"Wait, at least let me sit down!" he shouted joyfully to his daughter.

"I was picking up all the peels—" Marysia let him sit down, but clearly didn't want to wait with an explanation—"and the trash, and Mom was mopping the floor and everything.

When he wanted to ask about Turkucio, a plate of dinner landed in front of him, and his wife kissed him lightly on the cheek.

"Move over to the wall," Ewelina said, and he obediently followed her instructions. "I want to sit somewhere too. So how was work?"

Paweł completely forgot about Turkucio and started talking about how "that damn stupid" Jalek had rejected his project. He had to be careful with his words, because across from him sat Marysia, digging into her plate with a fork as if she were a treasure hunter.

"Honey, eat, don't play Indiana Jones," Ewelina admonished.

"But I don't want to!

" "Then put your plate down and go watch TV."

The girl immediately jumped off the chair and set her plate by the sink. A moment later, the sounds of a cartoon could be heard coming from the living room.

As soon as Marysia disappeared, Paweł felt his wife gently run her nails along the inside of his thigh. He turned to her, surprised, and saw a flirtatious smile.

"Wait, but what about Marysia?

" "There's an hour and a half of Johnny Bravo on right now, and I think you could use a relaxing shower. Frankly, me too," she said in a velvety voice, her full breasts heaving rhythmically.

Paweł completely forgot about both Turkucio and his problems at work; he felt only desire. He kissed his wife deeply, massaging her breast as he did so.

"Come on," she whispered briefly, and led him to the bathroom, leaving the plates of half-eaten dinner on the table.

III

Instead of a shower, they opted for a bathtub, where they spent almost an entire hour. It felt wonderful. It seemed to Paweł that ages had passed since he had been able to so freely indulge his sexuality. Ever since Marysia was born, sex had always involved the risk of being caught by the watchful, eager eyes of a little girl. All their intercourse resembled military maneuvers—it had to be carefully camouflaged and planned. There was no question of passionate play; instead, they focused on the bare minimum. The last time, perhaps even the only time since Marysia's birth, when they fully enjoyed each other was on their fifth wedding anniversary a year ago. Then, they managed to send Marysia to stay overnight with Ewelina's mother. However, the girl cried terribly, and in the end, Paweł had to drive to pick her up well after midnight.

This time, they made love with extraordinary passion, completely ignoring Marysia watching cartoons in the living room. Just before Paweł's first orgasm, a mad thought came to him to shout thanks to God for inventing cable television and children's thematic channels. But instead of saying anything, he simply gave in to the pleasure.

When they finished, the entire bathroom was splattered. Water and foam even dripped from the opposite walls, which completely surprised them. Ewelina smiled sincerely and said,

"Well, tiger, it's time to finish."

In response, Paweł hugged her tightly and purred aggressively in her ear, trying his best to imitate a large cat. The woman laughed cheerfully and lightly splashed water in his face.

"Let go, now, or we'll have you castrated!"

Her husband growled angrily, bit her ear lightly, and then released his grip. The woman stood up to the sound of dripping water. She reached for a towel and threw it on the wet floor. Paweł watched as she climbed out of the tub. He watched as clouds of foam lazily flowed over her pale skin. He felt his body fill with desire again.

"Honey, you didn't rinse off the suds," he said, rising from the tub.

"Did you?" she asked in a whisper, then stepped into the shower stall and closed the door behind her.

Paweł, still standing calf-deep in water, watched his wife's silhouette blurred through the plastic window. He saw her turn on the tap, then tilt her head back, rinsing her naturally brown hair. Suddenly, she opened the shower door slightly and extended her hand, a gesture that clearly invited him in.

When one of them finally turned off the water, it was over. They were still panting heavily together, but they were returning to reality at the speed of a roller coaster plummeting down the incredibly long and steep incline. Ewelina was the first to jump out of the shower.

"Well, I think I've secured my evening's work," she said, looking at the puddle of water lying on the rotten green tiles, unevenly laid by the former owner.

Paweł stood beside her, not even reaching for a towel. He let the water run straight onto the floor.

"You could have at least stood on the towel!" Ewelina admonished him.

"I guess it doesn't make any difference," he said carelessly, reaching for his clothes.

"I guess not," she replied, and kissed him on the lips.

They dressed quickly, completely forgetting what had just happened between them. Once again, they had a thousand responsibilities and just as many worries.

"I'll go check on Maryśka," Paweł said, pulling on his shirt.

Although he never said it officially, Paweł made it clear that a woman's place was at home with the broom, the child, and the pots. Ewelina loved him with all her heart and was willing to sacrifice some of her natural freedom just to make him happy. Even if that sacrifice required running around with a cloth and a mop.

"Okay, I'll try to get the bathroom ready for use in the meantime," she replied, watching Paweł leave the room.

IV

Marysia wasn't in front of the TV; instead, she was sitting in the kitchen, trying to wash the dirty dishes her parents had left behind. Paweł smiled as he saw her kneeling on an armchair, dipping her hands into a sink full of water and suds.

"What are you doing, little lady?

" "I'm washing dishes!" The Cow and the Chicken began, and I don't like them because they're stupid.

"Really?" Paweł asked casually, stealthily approaching the girl.

"Well, because they're so ugly," she explained, but most of her attention was focused on thoroughly scrubbing the plate. "And red isn't funny at all, and Aaaaaaaa!" she screamed in fright when her father suddenly grabbed her by the waist and yanked her up. However, her cry of fear was quickly replaced by a joyful, repeated, "Yay!"

Paweł spun her around faster and faster, and the little girl let out increasingly joyful cries. The girl's dress billowed happily, revealing her black-and-yellow striped knee-high socks. Finally, this human carousel stopped, and Paweł set his daughter down.

"More! More!" the girl demanded

. "That's enough for today," he replied, looking at the dishes in the sink. "What did you do with the food? Mom and I didn't finish it.

" "I threw it in the trash."

Paweł felt as if the girl was deceiving him. She'd answered too quickly, and now she was staring at him with her large eyes, waiting for a reaction. He was almost certain the little girl was wondering whether he'd bought her lie or not.

"I've told you so many times with my mom not to throw away food!" He reached for the cabinet under the sink, but after a moment he thought better of it and, looking for a trash can, chose the one to the right.

"No!" the girl shouted, too nervous again.

"Why?" he asked slyly. "I just want to take out those cabbage rolls you threw out and leave them behind the house for some stray dog. So if you would be so kind as to get out of my way, or bring me the trash can yourself, I would be extremely grateful.

" "But they're not in the trash because," she thought for a moment, searching for the most believable lie, "because I put them back in the pot.

" "Really?

" "Yes, because you only ate a little, so I put it away for tomorrow...

" "And didn't I tell you it's very rude to lie?"

The girl, however, wouldn't give up, stubbornly searching for a convenient excuse, even though her father couldn't be fooled anymore.

"Did I eat them?" she asked more than stated, then corrected in a much more confident voice. "Because I ate them!

" "Marysia!

" "Well, because I was hungry, I ate after you too, and...

" "Marysia!"

This time the girl gave in and stared at the floor. She seemed to have seen something incredibly interesting on it, completely absorbing her attention.

"So, how was it?"

She stared at something that should have been somewhere near her red slippers for a moment longer, and then looked into Paweł's face. Tears were streaming down her chubby cheeks.

"I wanted to feed Turkus, but Mom told me it was over and I couldn't anymore," she spoke quickly, tears already running down her chin. "Because if I don't feed him tonight, he'll come back to the kitchen after I fall asleep and make a mess!"

"Give me back those cabbage rolls," he said as calmly as he could, but his voice must have been laced with anger.

Still crying, Marysia went to the living room and pulled out a small bag from under the couch. It contained a mass of mixed rice, meat, potatoes, and cabbage, a dish that didn't remind Paweł of any familiar dish. The girl handed the bundle to her father and again stared at the floor, searching for a fire escape.

"Now, go to your room, young lady! That's enough TV for today!" When the girl was at the door, he added, "And don't come out until I or your mother come for yofor you!"

"But Dad! Turquoise will be angry and hungry!

" "Turquoise doesn't exist!" he shouted furiously. "Do you understand?

" "But Turquoise," the girl said, and then disappeared behind the closed white door, covered in Pokémon stickers

.

Paweł stared at the pink bag of lunch dough clutched in his hand for a moment longer, then tossed it into the trash. Ewelina, who had rushed in from the bathroom when she heard the screams, stood next to him.

"You were supposed to explain to her that her little creature didn't exist, not teach my daughter to lie!"

"I tried, but

..." "But what?" he interrupted her abruptly. "WHAT? Can you tell me? What the hell?

" "I tried!" she pleaded. "I tried all day! And all you do is come here and scream! You don't notice how hard I try! It's not important to you, only the mistakes you can point out!" After a short pause, she added. "I told you we should take her to a psychologist!"

Paweł's anger slowly gave way to fear. Now it seemed to him that he was standing face to face with his dead mother again. "Why are you leaving me? I tried so hard!" she screamed when he informed her that he was moving in with Ewelina. Then, like his wife now, she buried her face in her hands and sobbed quietly. Six years ago, both women had been ready to kill each other; now he understood it was because they were so alike. Both moved constantly in the shadows, somewhere behind him—cleaning the house or making dinner—but despite all appearances, they controlled his entire life. Every decision he should have made independently, for almost thirty years, had in fact been forced upon him by his mother. "And you were supposed to be a mathematician," she said through the same tears his wife was now crying when he got into philosophy school. He had listened to her and given up his dreams only to get into mathematics after a year. So what? He hated rows of numbers and consecutive figures, and his academic career had only begun because his uncle was already a professor in the department of applied mathematics. Just like now, Ewelina had cried when she presented him with a choice between her and his mother. "Why are you leaving me?" I tried so hard! He didn't answer then, simply ran away and never spoke to her again, and he learned of his mother's death by accident from an obituary. Although everyone around him seemed determined to act, in reality, he was only determined to escape. If Leonidas's army had been composed of people of his nature, three hundred warrior women would have died at Thermopylae, leaving their fleeing men in a labyrinth from which they would probably never find their way out alone and starve to death.

"I tried!" his wife repeated, burying her face in her hands, increasingly quietly.

Paul didn't know what to do. He was completely lost. Should he tell her he would take Marysia to a psychologist tomorrow? Possibly. Should he start apologizing to her for his outburst? More and more schemes of action flashed through his mind, but none of them seemed right.

"Everyone in this house is against me!" they finally shouted, utterly pointless, and he began to retreat toward the living room.

Ewelina raised her eyes and looked into his face. "This must be the look in the eyes of a hare driven into a dead end by hunting dogs," she thought as she wiped the tears from her cheeks. She felt sorry for him, saying as gently as she could

, "No one is working against you, just see how I'm trying, don't just look for my mistakes."

This was too much for him. He couldn't tell if he was hearing Ewelina or his mother. The same accusations, the same facial expressions. That was how they controlled him, speaking through his tears. He could do nothing but repeat, this time quietly, under his breath, his thesis about a domestic conspiracy, and then run out to the living room.

The woman wrung her hands helplessly and after a moment returned to the bathroom to finish cleaning.

VI.

Noises from the kitchen woke him from his sleep. The first thing he saw was the blue screen of a blank television. He glanced at his watch and saw that it was 3:00 a.m. He reached for the remote and turned off the TV. The living room was completely dark. As he got up, he tried to remember what time he would fall asleep, but he couldn't.

He'd sat down on the couch right after an argument with his wife. He'd first watched a documentary about monkeys, then three bad crime movies, until his eyelids finally drooped and he fell asleep in front of the screen.

He felt awful. It felt like his entire spine had taken the shape of the uncomfortable couch, a poor substitute for a bed. "I'm going to be terribly sore tomorrow," he thought. Suddenly, he felt a sharp stabbing pain somewhere in his skull and grabbed his head. He had to grip the back of the couch to keep from falling over as the world spun before his eyes.

"Fuck," he whispered, regaining control of himself.

He remained standing, gripping the back of the couch in case the unpleasant turmoil returned. The noises coming from the kitchen were becoming increasingly real. He distinctly heard someone opening the refrigerator and then knocking something over inside. He jumped with fear when he heard eggs being cracked behind the wall. Why hadn't anyone else woken up, he thought, "After all, someone's making Cambodia in our kitchen right now." As if to confirm his suspicions, something landed loudly on the wall or floor.

As quietly as he could, Paweł moved toward the fireplace and carefully grabbed the sharpened black poker hanging beside it. Despite his caution, the metal made a loud clang as the handle of the tool struck the stand. He listened for a moment to see if the intruder had heard him, but the man rummaging through their kitchen seemed unconcerned.

"Move, move," he whispered to himself, because now that he held the primitive weapon in his hands, he suddenly felt the full horror of the situation.

There was no time to wake Ewelina; he had to act alone and make his own decision. For once in his life. His legs felt heavy, yet he finally managed to take a step. His senses sharpened twice as sharply. He was surprised to discover how he could discern every detail despite the darkness. He smiled to himself as he realized that the night looked just like it did in bad movies—a shade of light navy blue, not impenetrable black.

With each step, he neared the kitchen, and the sounds coming from it seemed to grow louder. "What if it's just Marysia?" he thought, raising the sharpened tip of the poker above his head. He held his weapon in the same way one grips a baseball bat. "No, idiot, it's Turkuć Podjadek eating your winter supplies," another voice said in his head. The second option seemed just as likely as his daughter currently wreaking havoc in the kitchen.

He leaned back against the wall. Right next to his right shoulder was the entrance to the dark kitchen, from which the sounds of munching were now emanating. "Relax, it's probably just some homeless person using the open window to eat," he told himself. "He'll run away in terror the moment he sees you." But his legs wouldn't cooperate.

"Come on, move," he whispered to himself. "You can't escape now, there's no escape." He took a deep breath, then began counting—one, two—the last moment of uncertainty—THREE!" he shouted, and jumped into the kitchen, the poker raised high. "

Get out of here, whoever you are!" he shouted, automatically covering his nose, lowering the poker slightly as he caught the intense scent of wet fur.

He looked in the direction of the munching and saw a dark shape lying on the table. Besides that, there was nothing else in the kitchen but a huge mess. A coat, he thought, and was about to touch the shadow lying on the table when it suddenly moved. Paul automatically withdrew his hand, then took a step back toward the sink, his eyes fixed on something beneath the coat. No, not under—he suddenly reminded himself when he saw the rhythmic movements of the creature on the table—that was what he had mistaken for a coat!

"A cat. It must be some big, fat cat," he tried to mentally lie to himself.

The creature was kneeling on bent knees, bent over, clearly eating something on the table.

"Relax, it's definitely a cat," he tried to calm himself, reaching toward the creature with the poker.

Suddenly, the creature jerked its head up and glared at him. Its eyes were narrow and red, and Paweł recoiled in horror as the creature scrutinized him. Suddenly, its legs straightened, and it stood facing him. He could see it clearly now. The monster couldn't have been more than a meter tall. Its entire skin was covered in thick black fur. It swayed its frail body hypnotically from side to side. Its small paws, seemingly dangling helplessly along its thin frame, ended in glistening claws.

"Tuck, Jadek," the creature choked from deep within its throat.

Its speech resembled an ominous croak. The words it spoke seemed to drip with some unpleasantly moist secretion, as if they were something physical.

"Tuck, Jadek," it repeated again, this time only a little more distinctly.

Yellow saliva began to drip from its muzzle, resembling a hyena and a human. The creature flattened its triangular ears and blinked. His eyelids fluttered vertically at lightning speed, never closing completely.

Paweł tried to back away, but he was afraid to make any move. Turkuć's watchful eyes watched him closely with curiosity. Suddenly, the creature's gaze shifted from the man's face lower, directly to his stomach. Before Paweł could react, the creature leaped out and struck him like a cannonball. He felt Turkuć's claws sinking deep into his arms. He dropped the poker, which fell to the floor with a dull thud. He tried to throw the creature off him, but the claws sank deeper into the man's flesh, completely robbing him of control over his arms. A long cry of pain escaped Paweł's lips, and in response, Turkuć dug a powerful claw, growing from his paw, beneath his solar plexus and pulled it down quickly. The man's stomach opened instantly, as if previously it had been held together only by a zipper. Paweł staggered and saw Marysia standing in the doorway, screaming loudly. But he couldn't understand her. The entire world lost its color and sound. He stared at her, and blood began to flow from his mouth. When he tried to approach her, he felt something slip from his gut and land with a thud on the floor. He felt no pain. He no longer felt anything. Bleeding, he collapsed to the floor, dragging a rack of porcelain mugs behind him, which shattered all over the kitchen.

VII

Ewelina ran to the kitchen, drawn by the noise. Through the doorway, she saw the profile of her daughter, who was crying on her knees. Paweł was right, she had made this whole mess, she thought, and called out loudly for Marysia. Only sobbing and an unidentified wet sound answered her. When she crossed the threshold, repeating the child's name once more, she stopped dead in her tracks. The room looked like a slaughterhouse, covered in crimson blood. The woman glanced at her daughter and Turkucio, standing opposite her. The creature was thrusting something under Marysia's nose. It reminded her of a she-wolf offering her pups a piece of freshly hunted game to eat. The black monster seemed to ignore the woman standing in the doorway, instead repeatedly thrusting something at her daughter. Ewelina managed to take another step forward, and then, upon seeing her husband's mutilated body, she collapsed to the floor and began vomiting.

Turkuć looked at her curiously and tossed aside the tip of the intestine he'd just ripped out of Paweł.

"Tukuć Jadek," he cackled cheerfully, revealing a set of dirty, yellow teeth.

The woman, busy regurgitating her dinner, didn't even see the monster leap toward her.

Epilogue.

Dusk fell as two nurses finished their rounds in the closed-off wing of the hospital.

"Why is this girl strapped in?" asked a younger, plump blonde.

"Don't you know? It's Marysia Dorecka.

" "Jesus," the young one said too loudly, then covered her mouth with her hand

. "Yes. They brought her here two weeks ago," the older sister said, looking at the sleeping blonde tied to the bed with wide straps. "She hasn't spoken a word since then.

" "Is it true, what they wrote in the newspapers?

" "Yes." The older nurse's face creased, adding even more years to her appearance. "I washed the blood off her myself," she said, showing her powerful hands in a white coat. "She was covered in blood."

"But how could she have killed her parents? Surely she's only six?

" "Five," her older friend corrected her. "She not only killed them, but also ate them. And how did she do it? I have no idea, but it couldn't have been anyone else. For six days, she sat alone with her parents' bodies, in a house locked from the inside. The police found no fingerprints or anything like that. Do you understand? Zero traces.

" "Yes," the younger girl said, closing the door and stepping out into the hallway. "Is your husband well now?"

The women left, leaving the tense girl alone. As soon as the door closed, the little girl opened her eyes and looked out the window.

"Turquoise?" she asked timidly.

A knock on the glass answered her. As usual.