You don't know everything [1]

He sat on the roof, hastily wiping the blood that was dripping from his nose. Rage was growing within him with every passing second; he wanted to kill, beat him to death, slaughter that son of a bitch like an animal. He didn't deserve even the slightest act of humanity, EVEN THE SMALLEST…

He spat at his feet. He could hear footsteps on the staircase, but he didn't care. His father, the one who had just returned home drunk, the one who had decided something was wrong and had attacked his mother, the one who (as usual) had decided not to spare even his youngest daughter a blow, wouldn't be able to go anywhere now. He'd fallen asleep, exhausted from drinking, beatings, or who knows what else. Mariusz didn't even bother to think. An overwhelming urge to kill this man he should have called father grew within him. He should have respected and loved him too, followed his example…

"I hate him…!" he whispered, and spat again.

"You should put some ice on that..." he heard a quiet but firm voice somewhere to the side. She was standing right by the entrance, or rather, by the window, a neighbor. He recognized her; she went for walks with her dog in the evenings. What was she doing here? And what did she want from him?

"Fuck off!" He didn't want to be rude, so he refrained from using stronger words.

"It'll hurt less, and besides..."

"Get the fuck out of here!" he shouted without even turning around. Stupid, she had no idea what he was going through. She didn't understand!

He heard her retreat.

He threw a piece of broken chimney ahead of him. A rock like that could kill, especially falling from the roof of a ten-story skyscraper. He looked at the smoky, dirty city, other blocks of the concrete housing estate—some close and some in the distance. Some factory chimneys. It all seemed senseless to him, like his entire 19-year life. He had dreams, yes, but in moments like this, he completely forgot about them. Because how could anyone dream of himself, of college, of traveling, when his two little sisters had nothing to eat, when his mother barely earned enough to cover the basic bills, and his father…

He turned abruptly, hearing footsteps practically right behind him. It was her again. He wanted to say something unpleasant, or maybe at the last moment he would simply apologize to her; after all, she was responsible for the current state of affairs…

"Put it on your forehead above your nose, and you won't have a headache later," she said, simply handing him a cloth filled with ice. And she left.

He didn't thank her, didn't even stop her. He only inhaled a pleasant, fresh scent. He held all that ice in his hand and wondered why she'd done it.

Apparently, he was more pathetic than he'd thought, since these were complete strangers…

Wait. She wasn't such a complete stranger. As he recalled, he'd seen her in the park in the evenings with her dog. In fact, she probably even went to the same school. And from what he thought, her name was Ula.

Actually, it was a pretty name.

And that smell, it was her. She must smell like that. Happiness? Maybe. She must be happy. She lives with her parents and older brother in the same building. Her parents have money. Jobs. Cars. It's strange they still live here.

He'd always liked brunettes. Like her, not too tall, with perfect proportions and large, sad eyes. Or maybe they weren't sad at all, just tired?

***

He sat on a bench, finishing his cigarette. The guys would be here soon, maybe they'd figure something out together—a beer, a walk through town. In the distance, he saw a group of friends. Or maybe he heard them—they were walking along, laughing loudly, cursing, and spitting. He didn't want to be like them. And he wasn't entirely. And he hung out with them because, when necessary, they were truly loyal, willing to help, and they helped each other as much as they could. He didn't go to "set-ups" with them, didn't attack people on the street, but when he witnessed their stupid behavior, he didn't react either. Many times, they'd steal someone's phone, wallet, or other valuables right in front of him.

He greeted everyone, invited them to a bench, opened a can of beer, and began to sip.

"Sabina'll be there in a minute. With her friends," said "Pawełek," whose name wasn't Paweł at all. His name was Krzysztof. Krzysztof Dobrzyński. No one remembered when or why they started calling him "Pawełek." The important thing is that it stuck.

"Well, Young One, maybe you'll at least tap today..." Wicio said, laughing, and the rest of the crew joined in.

"Screw off." Mariusz smiled, washing that smile down with his beer. Wicio was absolutely right. Although he never took advantage of that opportunity.

Sabina was tall and very slim. She had dark brown eyes. Her hair was dyed blonde, of course. And despite her roots, despite the always heavy makeup, pink and white clothes, and the cigarette in her mouth, she was pretty. Especially for the neighborhood girls. She had a funny way of walking and dancing. She listened to techno and Bryan Adams. She was even quite intelligent. And she had cool friends. And most importantly, she liked to have a good time. Not always sober and not always legally, but if she liked someone, he could be sure there would be no boredom with her. And Mariusz was lucky enough to earn her favor in his time.

"Hey guys!" she said in her slightly hoarse voice, approaching the bench. They had seen her from a distance, swaying her hips in white jeans and a silver belt. They could hear the clicking of her heels on the sidewalk. Her friends: Majka, Zuzka, and "Gwiazda" also approached their friends and greeted each other with kisses on the lips. With all of them, except Mariusz. He really disliked it, all the artificial tenderness, as if they all knew each other and loved each other. True, they'd grown up in the same yard, played in the same sandbox, often smoked from the same pipe and drank from the same bottle, but he couldn't say much more about those girls. He only had a decent relationship with Sabina. He'd once seriously considered a relationship with her, but somehow those plans, constantly pushed aside, had faded and faded away. Either she had someone else, or he… They met often, casually, ended up in bed a few times, but for both of them, it was completely normal. Like part of a bench friendship. Like everyone did it to everyone else. And it probably was, although, contrary to appearances, the guys from the neighborhood respected all their girlfriends. They didn't brag about the ones they knew in common. Unless it was Sabina.

"And then, I'm telling you, the dogs came and chased everyone away. Only my little bear was left on the battlefield. And you can't even fucking imagine the scars from the stitches he'll have now...!" Majka launched into her favorite topic, the last party with her boyfriend, a security guard at a popular disco.

"The kid will have scars too," "Bigos" said, and all nine pairs of eyes turned to Mariusz. It was dark on the benches; after all, they were practically in a park, among the trees. Only in the distance, along the paths, were pale streetlights shining.

"Old man again?" Sabina approached, throwing the cigarette butt onto the sidewalk and touching his black eye with her cold fingers. He refrained from pulling his head back. He was afraid of her long, colorful fingernails. He was afraid of her touch at all.

"It's not worth talking about, they let him out and that's it. Tomorrow they'll lock him up again..." He didn't talk about his parents. Only with his closest family. Meaning only with Wicio. And only with Sabina.

"Mine also came back yesterday, completely screwed. He took the money and left. He'll be gone for a month again," Zuzka said, sitting on Pawełek's lap and wrapping her skimpy jacket tighter around herself.

"I can't wait for winter. Mother will throw him out if he doesn't bring his paycheck, he'll get drunk somewhere outside the store on some methylated spirits or whatever he's drinking, and he'll freeze to death, maybe finally... at least it'll be cold. And snow..." Pawełek mused.

"It's not easy. And next year, you'll be fighting, gentlemen," Gwiazda smiled, showing off her perfectly even, white teeth. Gwiazda's real name was Marta. But she wanted to be an actress or a singer. That's why she entered all the local acting and music competitions. Whether she had talent, he wasn't sure; she must have had some skills, since she was winning places. He only knew that her appearance and temperament as a spoiled child could only help her.

"It's getting cold, we have to go home," Zuzka said after a moment of silence. Everyone stood up, except Mariusz, who remained seated and stared blankly at the ground.

"Kid, what are you doing? Are you staying?

" "I'll stay a while longer… I don't want to go home yet.

" "Stay with you?" Sabina asked quietly.

"No, I'll just finish my beer and then I'll go too." He was finally alone. He watched the group depart and wondered what they would all be like in the future. They'll most likely stay here, in these gray, crumbling, dusty apartment buildings, in terrible apartments, have children who will grow up in these sandboxes, on these carpet-beating frames. Then perhaps they'll start drinking themselves, or commit suicide at a young age. He only knew that none of them would hit. Unless it was Skubi. He's always so quiet, sitting off to the side, just watching. With that hungry, animalistic gaze at Gwiazda's buttocks. And then there's Bodzio. He's got biceps. A pecs. And a pretty good woman, too. Her only flaw is that she doesn't like Bodzio hanging out in the neighborhood. She keeps him on a tight leash, at least officially. Only when she goes somewhere with her mother can Bodzio go out and chat like in the good old days. He wouldn't hurt a fly, though. Unless she scratches his car, but everyone knows that.

He saw movement in the alley. It's a dog, quite large, a German shepherd. He was running, as usual at this hour, across the smooth, already damp grass. And behind him, the ice girl emerged from the darkness. Ula. He remembered the whole incident on the roof and decided he should apologize. Or thank her. Or both.

"Hi," he said, even taking his hands out of his pockets as soon as he stood right in front of her.

"Hi," she replied, smiling. Only now did he notice that Sabina wasn't anything special at all. Maybe if she'd stuck with her natural hair color...?

"Aren't you afraid to walk alone in the park at this hour?"

"No, I have Pinkie," she said, looking at the dog under the tree. "He knows how to defend his owner," she added after a moment. "Besides, I'm not alone anymore." He felt something strange. He couldn't put his finger on it, but it was quite pleasant.

"Actually, I wanted to apologize. And thank you." She kept looking into his eyes. Straight into his chest, as if she wanted to scan him, risking the same in return. Her gaze didn't stray from his bruised eye socket, his torn and bruised eyebrow, or his crooked and swollen nose.

"No problem." They walked down the alley together. They had a short distance to the building.

"Why did you even come to that roof? Was I bleeding that much and leaving marks on the staircase?"

"No. I often sit there. And I watch you. But today I didn't know you'd be there; you were supposed to be at school until 5 p.m.," he said, surprised. He'd never seen her there himself. And how did she know his schedule...? "I'm sorry if this might seem like spying or something, but we just like the same places. We live in the same building, and somehow... I remember details. I can tell you something about each of the tenants..." she said, confused. "...and besides, we go to the same school."

"I know that. I recognize you.

" "Really? I thought I didn't stand out from this gray crowd. At least not without my blonde hair and pink clothes," she replied sarcastically, smiling to herself.

"You wouldn't stand out if you did." They looked at each other simultaneously.

"Did that ice pack help?" she asked seriously, suddenly reaching out and touching the bruised areas. He was surprised by the complete lack of defensive reflex. In fact, he WANTED to feel her touch. She was warm. But not hot. Just right. And that scent again, sweet, yet somehow sour, full of energy.

"It helped. How did you know what to do?" Her expression changed immediately.

"I just know.

" "Don't tell me you're involved in fights... No... you probably have some internships at clinics..." He probed, seeing that he was uncomfortable with her. There was some secret about her, something he wanted to discover. Especially since he was acting strangely, feeling strange. He'd never apologized to anyone before. He'd never thanked anyone because he didn't feel the need. And he hadn't particularly sought contact with anyone, but her? Maybe it was just a matter of her being different. That she didn't belong in that environment, that she had opportunities. A completely different situation at home, the money... Like traveling to exotic countries, especially with that smell...

"I just know," she repeated softly, calling the dog. They were almost at the apartment building.

"First aid courses? Or some other emergency intervention...? After all, a polite girl like you has probably never seen blood in her eyes..." What had gotten into him?!

"You don't know everything," she muttered through her teeth. "Good night," she added, pushing open the door to the stairwell. He lingered a moment before the entrance. He wondered why he'd said all that, why he'd been so rude. Maybe because she had power over him. Dominance.

He entered the stairwell. He heard the elevator coming. Then, as it stopped, the door creaked open significantly on the seventh floor. He heard indistinct words, probably addressed to the dog. The jingle of keys and their movement in the lock. Another jingle. Is she alone…?

Riding the elevator, he remembered some heavy homework due tomorrow. Math. He understood it, but he didn't have the energy to solve it now.

The apartment was dark and quiet. He hoped his father wasn't there, but when he looked into his room, he had no doubt he was. His sisters were sleeping on the couch, with his mother between them. His bed, as usual, had been unmade since morning. He was a little angry; after all, he'd asked everyone to go to Grandma's. His parents' room was locked, just as he'd left it when he'd left it that afternoon. Maybe when his father sobered up, he'd unlock it.

He went to bed. His exhaustion was reaching its peak. Just before falling asleep, he saw Sabina's eyes, first with those black, clumpy lashes, then Ula's, delicately outlined in silver. He felt her warm touch. And the scent... a sunny, exotic beach surrounded by palm trees...