When I somehow left that hotel (I even forgot which one), I went straight home. I didn't want to stop anywhere else, lest I start another fight because of me. At home, my nerves calmed down. I sat down in my favorite armchair, covered myself with a blanket, even though it was the middle of summer, and my beloved kitty, Pusia, immediately jumped onto my lap. She immediately purred when I started petting her. I don't know, but petting that cat immediately calmed me down. I looked at the papers lying on the table next to me. I covered them with the newspaper with the program and went to bed, feeling like I wouldn't get anything useful done that day. My lovely, soothing sleep ended as suddenly as it had come. When I woke up, it was night and a storm was raging outside. Pusia was pacing back and forth. My head was pounding, probably from all the drinks I'd had during the day. When I got up and took a sip of juice from the fridge, the sound of bottles smashing was still fresh in my mind. Suddenly, the sound stopped, and a few seconds later, it resonated in my mind again. I walked to the door and slowly opened it. At that moment, there was a loud bang, and my cat meowed. I thought I was going to have a heart attack, I was so scared. When I stuck my head out the door, I realized it wasn't my head making the noise, but someone downstairs. I lived on the third floor of an old tenement building, so the echo was just right. That no one else had heard it was a miracle. Driven by my innate curiosity, I went downstairs. The flashes of lightning scared me a little. I liked thunderstorms, but they terrified me at the same time. When I got downstairs, I didn't notice anything unusual. Once on the first floor, the noise suddenly stopped. I went all the way downstairs. There was no one there. There were broken bottles in the corner; someone had even broken a lot of them. But who was it? There was no one there anymore. Suddenly, I heard quick footsteps and another flash of lightning. Only this time, almost simultaneously with the flash, I heard such a clap of thunder that the glass in the main door shook. A chill ran down my spine. I suddenly smelled the stinking stairwell, was terrified by the darkness, the sudden silence, the piercing wind that whistled through every crack, the feeling of someone running up the stairs suspiciously quickly moments ago, and the fact that I was completely alone. Another chill ran through me, and I quickly ran up the stairs, eager to get to my cozy, safe apartment. When I reached the door, I noticed it was open, even though I'd slammed it shut after putting the key in my pocket. I immediately thought of burglars. Suddenly, I remembered those footsteps. What if that someone was still in my apartment? I was terrified. Another thunderclap; I felt like I was in a horror movie. I entered the apartment quietly; of course it was dark, of course. I walked through the hallway and into my bedroom, if you could even call it a bedroom. My house wasn't very big, consisting of a small hallway, a fairly large kitchen, a bathroom where something was constantly breaking down, a guest room, and my bedroom.which was also my oasis of peace. No one was allowed there except me and my friend Klara. Well, maybe a man would pass through occasionally, but not very often.
When I stood in the middle of my oasis of peace, I noticed that someone had dared to disturb my haven of peace. Someone was undoubtedly in my apartment, as a black envelope lay on the bed, which I certainly hadn't placed there. Unless my cat had suddenly become intelligent and wanted to send me letters. I immediately turned on all the lights in the apartment and searched every room very carefully. I checked to make sure no one had taken anything, even though my possessions weren't very large, and only then did I tackle the black envelope. Puśka jumped onto the bed and watched my actions intently. My hand trembled slightly as I pulled the black paper from the envelope. I unfolded the sheet and saw a mosaic of letters cut out from various newspapers and glued to it in the following order: "You better take this inheritance, or you won't be so happy." I'm not joking, so don't tease me and run to the priest. Unless you don't want to wait until the next day.
Well, that's pretty much what it looked like. If I'd been standing, I probably wouldn't have been standing anymore, I'd have been lying on the floor. I started feeling dizzy, so I lay down and forced my respiratory system to work way beyond normal. I stopped, though, afraid of hyperventilating.
Someone knows where I live, knows I've received an inheritance, and knows I don't want it at all. He was here, in my apartment, and now I'm in danger of not seeing the next day. It made me incredibly angry. My privacy was being seriously violated. I grabbed my cell phone and found Damian's number. I looked at my watch; it was ten to two. What the hell, I thought. He told me to call, so I did.
"Damian?" I asked stupidly. I heard him yawn. "Did I wake you?" That was a pretty stupid question, I know. It was obvious he was asleep.
"What happened?" My brother didn't like to beat around the bush.
"Someone was in my apartment, someone who knows about the inheritance. Come here and you'll see for yourself."
Damian entered my apartment at two. By then, I'd already had my coffee and recovered from all of this. Damian, like a true lawyer, started asking me all sorts of questions. When I heard the footsteps, did I see anyone, did I hear any voices downstairs, was I being followed, had I searched everything, had I left anything but a black envelope, and so on. After a while, I couldn't take it anymore and yelled at him, saying yes, I had checked everything, no, no one had followed me, I hadn't heard any voices, I hadn't seen anyone, I had thoroughly searched the house and found nothing but a black envelope and footprints, which my intelligent little brother probably left on my carpet. I also added that I didn't remember the exact time I'd come downstairs. Damian fell silent, undoubtedly pondering all this.
"We have to go to the police," he said firmly. I knew that too, even without his wisdom. Before leaving, however, Damian told me to change, because I was still wearing the outfit I'd worn to the funeral. In my bright skirt and plush sweater, I looked no different than working women who weren't afraid of any drivers on the highway. So I quickly changed into jeans and a blue sweatshirt from my college days. It had the clever "University of Warsaw" logo on it, so I always felt different from everyone else in it.
We stepped outside, and I immediately felt a refreshing, cool breeze hit my face. It somehow brought me back to reality. My brother was doing quite well since I'd stepped into his new Audi. We got to the station quickly, so I couldn't even think about what I was going to tell them there. It turned out I had to tell the entire story of the inheritance and repeat exactly what I'd already told Damian.
I sat with my brother on one side of the desk, and on the other sat a policeman with a mustache. Another uniformed officer stood over him, this time without a mustache. He had a grimace, as if he regretted ever being born. They both listened intently, but when I finished speaking, they looked at each other simultaneously, and it seemed to me that they telepathically began to laugh at me. I glanced at Damian; after all, this was his business.
"You gentlemen, I don't think you're taking this seriously," he said firmly. This time, his lawyerly, stern tone didn't bother me at all. The policemen looked at him differently than they had at me.
"That sounds a bit... strange," said the one with the mustache, as if he'd been considering it beforehand.
"I've never heard a story like that before," replied the one with the grimace.
"Me neither, I assure you. In my career, I've never encountered such a strange inheritance case. The condition my late father set may indeed be controversial, but those are the facts, and unfortunately, they must be acknowledged.
But Damian liked to show off.
"This isn't a court hearing," I said quietly, but he heard me anyway and glared at me.
"Could I speak for myself?" I finally asked. I wanted to express my opinion on the matter. "I think it was a one-time prank by someone who was terribly bored, and it probably won't happen again," I said, though I wasn't entirely sure.
"I wouldn't be so sure," a voice suddenly replied, as if reading my mind. I was starting to think I was going crazy and hearing voices, when suddenly the man with the mustache looked over my head.
"Good morning, Mr. Zagórski," the one with the mustache said in a formal tone. I turned around to see who this Zagórski was. A tall, handsome brunette man appeared before my eyes. The room was bright with fluorescent lights, so I could see Mr. Zagórski's beautiful brown eyes. He was standing in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe, a mug of coffee in his hand. He was wearing light trousers and a matching jacket. He looked as if coffee at 2 a.m. was completely normal for him. I stared at him, because it was a sight to behold. He stared back at me, my cheeks burning.
"What did you say?" I asked, unable to bear the tension that had suddenly built up in the room. I couldn't remember any stranger having such an effect on me, not counting, of course, my platonic love for Brad Pitt.
"I told you I wouldn't be so sure this was the first and last time you'd received that black envelope."
Everyone remained silent. Me too. They were probably doing the same thing I was: wondering how the hell he knew about it.
"But, how do you know that..." I started, but he interrupted me. He had a strange rasp in his voice that sent shivers down my spine.
"I was in the next room and heard what you were saying.
Was I talking that loud? The door was open, but I wasn't shouting." A stranger, Mr. Zagórski, approached me, and my throat tightened when he stood next to me and I smelled his perfume. I thought to myself,
"Marek Zagórski," the handsome stranger introduced himself, extending his hand. I offered him my shaking hand in greeting, and he shook it firmly. I wonder what was hidden under that shirt, I thought, and immediately scolded myself for thinking such nonsense at a time like this.
"Irmina Szadowska," I said, and he smiled. Probably because of my idiotic name. God, why do I have such a terrible name?
"Sit down," the man with the mustache said wisely, because the handsome Zagórski was still standing. He grabbed a chair and sat down next to me. Why couldn't he sit next to Damian? Now I couldn't concentrate on anything.
"Now that I started talking, I don't think it was a one-off," he said, placing the coffee on the table. What... one-off, what was that supposed to be, aha, I remembered once I'd stopped staring at him. Oh yes, that envelope, it really wasn't one-off; it could still be useful. What am I saying!
"My name is Damian, I'm Mina's brother," my brother said suddenly. They both shook hands. Why did he say Mina? Didn't he know he was completely embarrassing me?! "I also think it'll happen again. Someone tried to scare my sister and succeeded. Next time it might be different.
" "What could be different?" I asked.
"I completely agree with you. Someone found out about the inheritance, and from what I understand, he's very keen for your sister to take it over.
" "Yes," Damian said with a smile, as if pleased to have found someone worth talking to. "I just don't know who could find out so quickly. Mina, have you told anyone about this?"
There was silence. After a moment, I realized the question had been asked, and it was directed at me.
"What?" I asked, turning to him. This Zagórski had completely captured me. I didn't want to reveal it, but I wasn't doing well. I pulled myself together and focused on the question.
"No," I said, not letting Damian repeat the question. He looked at me disapprovingly. "I didn't tell anyone about it. When I got home, I went straight to bed." I listened to every word I said, aware that Mr. Zagórski could hear everything. "I didn't tell anyone," I repeated.
"Well, then, someone must have been following you, maybe they overheard your conversation with your brother.
" "There was no one around us at the time," my brother stated firmly.
"Or maybe..." I started, but quickly bit my tongue. I wanted to say that maybe there were cameras in the hotel, but that would have been a complete joke. After all, cameras only show images, not sound, unless someone had practiced lip-syncing. Everyone was staring at me, including handsome Zagórski. God, I'd embarrassed myself. How can I get out of this now?
"Or maybe..." I repeated, stalling for time. Suddenly, it dawned on me. "Maybe it was someone in the family?" At first, when I said it, I thought I'd been talking nonsense again, but that had been the most likely explanation so far. Silence fell.
"That's probably the most likely," Zagórski said first. He must have thought about it earlier too. Maybe he didn't want to be the first to say it. "After all, who cares most about you accepting this inheritance?"
I instinctively looked at Damian, because he was the one who kept telling me to take my inheritance. He must have seen it in my eyes, because he looked at me reproachfully.
"What, are you stupid?" he said quickly. No, he wasn't. He was stupid sometimes, and annoying, but Damian had too much money to want a little money from me.
"You're right," the man with the mustache said suddenly. "Now that I'm listening, it's clear as day that this is some kind of family conspiracy. I also saw in that one movie where a guy had an inheritance and the whole family wanted to do it..." the man with the mustache said enthusiastically.
"Thank you, Constable," Zagórski interrupted, and I was grateful. The man with the mustache fell silent. He was probably famous for such foolish speeches.
"I think you should be careful for now and not tell anyone," the beautiful Mr. Zagórski said to me. He said this to me... until I fell silent, listening to his beautiful voice. I nodded, signaling I understood.
"Who in the family knows exactly about this inheritance?" This time the question was directed at Damian. He, on the other hand, looked a little confused. He shifted in his chair again. He seemed to prefer asking questions rather than answering them seated.
"Actually, everyone in our family knows about it," he said reluctantly, as if it were his fault.
"We need to limit the number of suspects a bit," Zagórski said. How clever he was. I was starting to like him more and more, but it was a purely platonic infatuation. Nothing would have come of it anyway, and I'll explain why later. "And who knows that Mrs. Irmina doesn't want to collect this inheritance?
" "Everyone does, too. I talked to our mother about it, so I assume she shared the news with everyone.
" "Did you tell your mother? And does everyone know?" Now they'll probably think I despise money," I told him indignantly.
Zagórski smiled and lowered his head. At that moment, I didn't even care what he thought of me.
"And they'll be right, just because of some stupid story from your childhood, you don't want to go to that priest and tell him.
" "What did you say?" I shouted at him, rising from my chair. Zagórski stood up too, followed by the mustachioed one and the one with the grimace. My brother stared at me like I was a first-class lunatic. "I've had enough of all this. I've had enough of no one believing me. You don't even know how I feel. I can't live a normal life because of this, and you still think I made it all up!"
As I screamed, I suddenly realized everyone was looking at me. I left as quickly as I could. Once outside, I felt the cool, refreshing breeze again. I sat down on the stone steps and started crying.
I was right when I said I couldn't live a normal life. This also applies to what I promised to explain earlier. It all comes down to one thing – my father. As a child, I experienced my first time, if you can call it that. It was a truly painful experience, and I will never forget it, no matter how hard I tried. When, as an adult, I wanted to be in a relationship, I couldn't, I couldn't. I couldn't trust anyone. Every man was my father. And sex was just pleasure. There was no love in him. At least not from me. Who could endure such a toxic relationship? No one. That's why I had no one. I couldn't give myself entirely to one man and trust him completely. I was an unhappy, lonely woman whose only family were Puśka, Klara, and Paweł, my friend from college. He was an orphan and as a child lived with a foster family where he couldn't experience love. So we had a lot in common. They were the only people (and the cat) I fully trusted.
That's why I couldn't understand how Damian, an intelligent man, couldn't show me even a shred of tenderness and brotherly love. I felt so terribly sad. Why couldn't he accept the fact that my father had sexually abused me? Was it really that impossible? Klara believed me immediately. She had been with me the entire time I lived in my parents' house. She hadn't abandoned me when I needed her. And what was my own brother doing? God, I couldn't understand it.
Suddenly, I felt someone sit down next to me. The warming scent of Zagórski filled my nostrils. I looked up at him. In the streetlight, I could only make out his well-defined features and disheveled hair. I couldn't bear the thought of him seeing me in a moment of weakness, and even when my eyes were filled with tears.
"When I was seven, I had to go to school alone because my mother was sick," Zagórski suddenly began to say. His voice pulled me away from the darkness. He radiated positive vibrations that made me feel strangely absent-minded. But I listened very carefully now, not wanting to miss a single word he said. "It was the first day of school, and I was terribly angry that no one would go with me," he said, staring straight ahead. My first day of school wasn't any different, except perhaps that no one in my family was sick. No one simply wanted to go. That's how it was. "First I was angry, then sad. When I went to school, I remember wearing this awful suit that I didn't like. That made me feel even worse." Zagórski confided in me, even though I hadn't asked him to. He spoke, though I didn't know why. But since I've always preferred listening to people rather than confiding in them myself, I was happy that this handsome guy wanted to tell me something. "I was almost at elementary school when I heard a quiet whimper coming from someone's basement window. There was no glass in that window, so I went inside. I ripped my clothes on a nail and fell onto the coal. When I got up, I saw a small dog sitting in the corner, whimpering like that." Zagórski said it as if it happened yesterday. It must have been deeply etched in his memory. "I went up to him; I wasn't afraid of him at all. He looked so sad, just like me... I remember he was completely black. His fur was perfectly black, not even a speck, not a single spot anywhere. I managed to get him out. It wasn't easy. I had to dig through the coal; I completely ripped my suit jacket because it was full of wires and nails driven into the wall." I knew it could have been someone's dog, but only a cruel person could have locked him in a cold basement. I also saw that he was completely emaciated. I had to do something about him. I spent the money my mother gave me for school books on food for Czarny…
"Czarni? Is that what you named the dog?" I asked, drawn into his story. He looked at me and smiled. I no longer even cared that I was calling him by his first name. Later, he addressed me that way too.
"Yes. I named him that because of his black fur. Nothing else came to mind at the time. That was my sentence.
I looked at him questioningly. He just nodded.
"Listen further," he ordered. And of course I did. I could have listened to him like that for hours.
"I bought him that food. When I walked with him down the street, people kept staring at me. I was covered in coal, dust, and soot. The suit was ready to be thrown away. My hands were black, not to mention my face. I could even feel the dust and sand in my teeth. I wandered around the city and the park, and the Black Man followed me. I finally found him a hiding place in the park and was supposed to leave him there to return the next day. That's when, just out of spite, it was raining. I couldn't leave him like that. I was afraid to go home too, because I knew I'd get a good beating for ruining the suit, spending money on a dog, missing school altogether, and, on top of that, I looked little different from my black dog, whom I didn't want to live without. So I stayed with him in the park all night.
" "What?" I asked. "You were seven years old and you were left all alone in the park with a dog?"
I couldn't believe a seven-year-old child would willingly do that.
"I was so afraid my mother would discover what I'd done, that she'd discover my secret. I simply preferred not to go home. I was scared, hungry, and worried about my mother, because she was home alone, and I knew she needed me. First thing in the morning, when Czarny woke me up with his barking, I went home. I stood at the door and rang the bell. My mother opened the door quickly, and when she saw me, she didn't know whether to laugh or cry with joy. She hugged me and asked what had happened. Next to her stood my two aunts, a neighbor and her husband, and right behind them, a friend of my father's.
"That was quite a welcome," I said, happy that the whole thing had ended well.
"But imagine the sight. I stood before them, completely dirty, practically black, wearing the remains of my first suit, with mud in my hair. I was cold, hungry, and my eyes were swollen from crying."
I had to laugh as I pictured the handsome Zagórski boy covered in mud, his eyes puffy with tears.
"Mom was crying, the neighbor, and my aunts too. My dad's friend came up to me and asked who I'd brought with me. I looked at the dog and said, 'This is my friend Czarny.' I don't know why, but everyone immediately burst out laughing. My mom said I was blacker than my friend, and that I should be called that. And that's how it became Czarny. I got my nickname after the dog I named myself.
" "Yeah. That's all well and good, but why are you telling me this? You've got to admit, you've condemned yourself, right?" I laughed. "Now it really is? Czarny?
" "Yes. But that's not what I meant.
" "So?" I asked, not sure what he meant anymore.
"I wanted to tell you that because I was afraid to tell my mother, I spent a whole, terrible night in the park. If I had just come home and bravely admitted what I had done and that I intended to stop the Black One, I probably wouldn't have had to cry all night and suffer.
" "It's true," I said. I had no idea why he was telling me this. I noticed Zagórski was watching me intently. Suddenly, I understood why he'd told me all this. He clearly wanted me to tell him why I didn't want to take possession of two hundred thousand. And that anecdote was probably meant to make me realize that you can't be afraid of secrets because it will end badly. I figured that out quickly; after all, I had taken psychology classes. I stood up quickly, startling Zagórski.
"Mr. Zagórski," I began.
"I'm Marek," he said, upset that I'd spoken to him that way.
"These are my personal matters," I finished, ignoring what he'd said. He smiled and stood up.
"You didn't waste your time in college after all. Your brother told me you studied psychology," he said. Now I knew why he'd used that story. He knew I'd figure it out.
"Never mind," I replied. "I didn't finish my studies anyway. I just wanted to say that you shouldn't be trying to get me to tell you. Let my brother tell you, because you probably won't believe my story," I said, certain that would be exactly what would happen. Marek was very interested in what I said, because he looked serious. I must have really wanted to know what was bothering me so much. I had a huge urge to tell him everything. I wanted to throw my arms around him and tell him how bad I was, how much I was suffering, and how I couldn't get my life together normally. But he probably wouldn't want to hear it. In my opinion, it was too complicated for Marek to understand. So I didn't want to prolong it any further. Besides, I don't even know this man," I began to tell myself.
"I have to go," I said, turning to leave my handsome boyfriend, who wanted to know my life story.
"If this happens again, come to my place," he told me, and I froze, unable to say a word. I felt as if he'd suggested we spend the night together at his house. "Call me if anything happens." He approached me and handed me his business card. "Are you sure you don't want a ride?"
"No," I replied, my voice hoarse, as my throat had gone dry.
"I asked your brother to stay and tell me exactly what this inheritance is all about and who in the family knows about it. It's very likely it's someone in the family. Things happen in the world, and I wouldn't be surprised if it's true," he said. I stared at him like an art connoisseur staring at the Mona Lisa. He impressed me with all his stupidity, even the insignificant ones. I smiled at him and nodded to show I understood. I shared his opinion, though it was hard for me to accept that my family truly didn't want me in this world and all they cared about was my money.
Marek shook my hand but didn't let go for a long moment. Suddenly, someone stepped out of the building, and only then could I free myself from Mr. Zagórski's penetrating gaze.
"So, see you later," Marek said, and went up the stairs to the building where I'd first seen the man of my life.
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