White Feather

The teacher entered the classroom. She unfolded her notebook. Calmly, completely composed, she sat down on her chair. She looked at the assembled crowd with the gaze of a torturer. She tapped the notebook inaudibly, then began muttering the students' names in such silence that even her breath seemed to echo off the walls.

"Alice!" The teacher's voice, filled with sadistic joy at finding a new victim who would soon grovel at the blackboard, gazing pleadingly around the room for even the slightest hint, echoed through the classroom, sending unpleasant shivers down the spines of the students.

The girl stood, having previously squeezed the hand of the boy sitting next to her. She picked up her notebook and slowly walked toward the blackboard. The seconds dragged on mercilessly. She hated these moments; she didn't like having to go to the answers. Especially when she knew she was doomed from the start.

Finally, she reached her destination. Two more steps. The blackboard opened before her like a huge, dark window. She stared at it intently, searching for even a single bright spot. She took the chalk and began writing the dictated assignment on the board, and white dust scattered gently beside it like snow, but harder, less pleasant to the touch.

Time began to freeze again, as if tired. Everything: words, thoughts, voices, began to blend. She stopped understanding their meaning. She wanted to go back to her place. It was stupid. Finally, the last mark written in dead, rough chalk on the dark board. She looked at the teacher with a look of triumph in her eyes. She carefully followed the movement of her fingers and the trace left by the tip of the pen. Filled with a strange composure and calm, she reached out. She took the notebook. She walked from the board to her desk again. In complete silence, but now it seemed different. Less tense. The usual monotony was beginning.

She smiled wryly at Zik. She sat down, involuntarily resting her hand on his leg. She opened the notebook. She began to write without enthusiasm, not thinking about what she was writing about, her thoughts wandering far beyond the classroom.

"Alva, you did well." A soft whisper tore her from her writing routine and drew her back to earth.

"Thanks, Zik.

" ***

The bell broke the silence with its broken trill. They took a deep breath. They wrote down the last words of the note. They gathered their things. It was over. How good. Alicja quickly threw her pencil case and notebook into her bag. She waited for Zik. They left together, hand in hand. It was an unwritten custom. No one asked anymore. They weren't a couple, they were friends. Everyone knew that. Besides, it wasn't all that important. Everyone now had only one thought: to leave these depressing walls, to breathe air unsaturated with fear, concentration, the silence broken by the rustling of pages.

***

They walked through the park, surrounded by a bleak, white-and-brown landscape of tired, sleepy trees. They were silent; words were so fleeting, they didn't need them. Every now and then, a cold wind whipped their faces—it was a truly frosty winter. A small, spotted dog ran past them, leaving faint paw prints in the snow, scattering sparkling dust around them. After a few minutes, they passed the last row of trees and turned onto a side street, passing snow-covered cars.

A dozen or so meters ahead, a group of children were throwing silver snowballs. One, thrown with an unskilled hand, headed toward a girl who stared, captivated, at the play of light on a snowball.

Zik wrapped his arms around her, shielding her, and the ball shattered on his shoulder.

"Be careful, girl!" he said with a smile. Only a brief, imperceptible flicker visible for a split second in his eyes expressed some vague feeling of longing. A longing that wouldn't be noticed for a long time.

***

They stood in front of the apartment building. The gray, worn walls, adorned here and there with colorful spray cans of hooligans, overwhelmed them like vast, ancient tombs of everyday life, and the hedges, bare at this time of year, only emphasized the sadness of the neighborhood. Alva stopped. She looked at the building with a reluctance so strong and expressive that Zik even took a step back.

"You don't want to go back? "

He understood.

Suddenly, driven by an undefined impulse, she nestled into his shoulder. She hid her face, and with it, the lonely tears.

"Will you?" She whispered almost inaudibly into his jacket.

"I will, always. I promise." He embraced her and began rocking her gently, as if she were a little girl. "I won't let anyone hurt you."

***

The verdict was passed. Sealed in that single moment. The paths slowly began to straighten, and so few byways remained. Too few to change anything.

He had always wondered why people hadn't yet learned to read the stars. Today, he cursed that ability. Among the silver dots, he clearly saw his fate, his obligations, and the punishment that had been passed upon him. Yet, he paid no attention to it. Alva's writings seemed far worse to him. He wept every night as the stars opened their books to him. He read each new word with pain, yet he persevered. He wanted to know the whole truth.

***

A dozen or so months later, he would recall those moments again, gather them, like tiny grains of sea sand slipping through his fingers. To this day, it's unknown how no one had noticed this girl's situation before. Perhaps, if they had known, fate could have been changed? Only the tragic events of those days illuminated Alice's story. A story of a dozen years...

To this day, only a few have guessed the role Zik played in all these events. They couldn't have known.

***

He sat, looking around the classroom uncertainly. He was afraid. Anxiety, some foreboding gripped his heart like an icy fist, choking his throat. "She'll come, just in a moment, she's fine..." He consoled himself, trying with all his might to believe it. With a growing, deepening unease, he greeted the broken sound of the bell. He felt fear, of something undefined. He closed his eyes and watched the forks in the road disappear into the mist. A shiver ran through him. He was certain something had happened that he was supposed to prevent. Something he should never have allowed.

With a pounding heart, he waited for the next bell.

***

He knocked on the door where he'd bid farewell to the girl so many times. He could have arrived there even with his eyes closed; there was no mistaking it. He glanced around the area. The blazing sun warmed his back and reflected off the green, fresh leaves of the trees. But he looked away; this was no time to admire the wonders of nature. Only the chirping of birds broke the silence. He knocked again. "Maybe she's gone?" A quiet question flitted through his mind, but how would he find her then?

He heard quiet footsteps behind the door. He already knew Alva was there. She opened the door a crack, peering fearfully through the crack. Her hair, usually slicked back, fell across her face. He could clearly read fear, anxiety, and something else in her movements. Pain?

He suddenly realized she'd never called this place home. He knew nothing about her family. She'd only said she was trying to escape. He guessed. How blind he'd been until now.

"Alva?

" "Come in," her whisper, soft, still filled with the sadness of freshly shed tears. He felt it, knew her so well that every gesture, tone of voice, and word told him her story, over and over again. She opened the door wider, and in the bright light of day, Zik noticed the bruise on her cheek. He remained silent. He wanted to do something, anything. Comfort her...

"You weren't at school today..." he began, his voice cracking with suppressed emotion. The words were again completely out of place. He wanted to apologize for not being there for her. He stood looking at her with sad, guilt-filled eyes. He could have prevented this! He wanted so badly to turn back time.

***

He stood before the iron wall, screaming at the sky with all his anger. He struck. Again. His knuckles tore at his skin, and blood began to flow down his arms. Needles of pain shot through his frozen flesh. Hundreds of questions swirled in his mind, merging into one that had tormented him from the very beginning. How could he have allowed this? What kind of guardian was he? He cried, his tears mixing with the rain. He hated his helplessness. He had allowed them to hurt the only being on this earth who meant something to him.

She told him everything, and with her words came images. She was afraid. She wanted to escape. She was completely alone when he should have been there to protect her. He failed.

He looked up at the sky, to pour out all his pain, and his heart sank. He saw. For the first time, he saw Alva's path so clearly. A path, without any branches, straight to the destination. Short. Too short.

"No! You won't take her from me!" he shouted, though he knew no one was listening.

Tomorrow.

"I won't let you..." he whispered, slumping helplessly to the ground next to the cold, gray wall. He decided to change the record. He needed this girl.

"

Alva, come! You have to escape. Go... I'll find you, wherever you are, I promise," he spoke quickly, his voice ragged and muffled. "You can't stay here."

She crawled out the window, so many questions weighing on her, yet she didn't dare ask them. Her bangs still fell across her face, but in the moonlight, the bruise was almost invisible. The night was warm and breathed the freshness of spring days. The silvery trees stood silently listening to this nightly conversation. But Zik was afraid to look up. He didn't want to see the stars. Not yet.

"I'll explain everything to you later... Come on...

"

He saw her, and hope began to dawn in his soul again. He didn't see the ever-shortening road above his head, he didn't look at her. He had deluded himself into thinking he could stop events, change fate.

He kept hope until the very end.

She didn't see him. She ran onto the road, not noticing the blood-red car that came around the bend at breakneck speed. A screech of tires and a broken scream shattered the silence that suddenly fell around Zik. He saw everything as if in slow motion. An impact, one, two. He watched as the girl's body fell limply to the road. Time resumed its course, then he accelerated violently.

Almost unconsciously, he began to run. She didn't move. A circle of onlookers had already gathered around her. No one even tried to help her. He felt she was dying. A part of him was leaving with her. He knelt beside her, resting her head on his lap, ignoring the blood that now dripped down his hands. He grabbed her hand.

"Alva..."

She opened her eyes. He would remember them forever just as they were now. Peaceful.

"You are..." She spoke with difficulty, every movement causing her pain. Something tightened his chest.

"I am." The words were unnecessary again. Just like that time, in the park. "I promised."

He remained silent, though his soul begged, screaming to the heavens for a miracle. He could no longer protect her. A solitary tear rolled down his cheek, which he hid by lowering his head. He cursed the fate that had written this death in its books, cursed the false hope he had nourished.

He felt her gently squeeze his hand, as if thanking him and offering him comfort. He knew that gesture. He'd tried to cheer her up so many times with it.

"Alva, don't go. "

She didn't hear.

He wandered aimlessly, not knowing what to do. He had lost his charge. He had lost the girl who meant more to him than any of the people he had previously cared for. He had nowhere to return to, and the only place he could go filled him with disgust. He sat down by the riverbank.

Right next to him, out of nowhere, an old man dressed in rags appeared. With a benevolent smile, he held out a slice of bread, leaving a second, larger one for himself, and devoured it with relish.

"Why are you sitting here?" he asked, between bites. "What happened?"

Zik glanced at the stars, but he didn't see the man's path, quickly looking away. He didn't want to know. The words flowed freely from his mouth; he told him everything he could, the entire story of Ali.

"Why did you call her Alva?"

Zik buried his face in his hands. His voice died in his throat, choking him. He swallowed back tears that left a salty taste on his lips.

"That's how she introduced herself to me when I first met her." The young man's face took on a tender expression, so gentle and yet sad that for a long moment he seemed extraterrestrial, superior, almost divine. "She didn't want me to call her by her name. She was mysterious and withdrawn. Only when I got to know her better did I understand that this helped her partially escape reality."

He fell silent for a moment, then buried his face in his hands again.

"I was supposed to protect her! I promised... Both to myself and to her..." A tearing sob cut off the torrent of words. "I failed."

The old man nodded, pondering something intensely.

"You know," he began, "I think your prayers have been answered. She was happy. I think so.

" ***

He blinked in surprise. He was sitting alone on the riverbank, holding a piece of bread in his hand, but there was no sign of the old man. Only after a moment did he notice a slender, white feather among the grass. He didn't understand. He looked up at the stars one last time

,

trying to find some guidance, but he saw only two paths shrouded in darkness. He had to choose, and he had already made his decision. The park was shrouded in gray fog, and the sun had not yet emerged from behind the clouds to illuminate the gloomy landscape. Clouds rolled across the leaden sky. Dark trees dropped golden-brown leaves at the young man's feet. A small, spotted dog ran past his feet. "Nothing's changed," he muttered under his breath, but no one considered his words. Zik slowly entered the fog, his outline becoming fainter and fainter until finally completely invisible. The angel dissolved in the gray mist. It began to rain. One slender, white feather fell onto the park path and danced in the wind.