Daisy

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Michał asked again.

Agnieszka looked at him menacingly and shook her head significantly. Her lips thinned slightly.

"You've asked me for what must be the fiftieth time. I told you so!" She raised her voice significantly on the last word, demonstrating complete conviction in her decision.

Michał looked into her eyes. He was very anxious. He was worried about Agnieszka, though he too might be in trouble because of what they wanted to do. He probably shouldn't have told her about his plans.

"Do you have Polish now?" he tried to keep his voice from betraying his nervousness.

"Yes. I said I wasn't feeling well and was going to the nurse."

They ran quickly. They didn't have much time to waste. Michał calmly left the classroom, taking advantage of the absence of the primary school teacher. If the boy was lucky, he'd be back before he returned, but if not, he'd end up on the principal's rug. He probably wouldn't be able to hide his guilt then.

"Agnieszka," he stammered uncertainly, "why do you want to do this?"

She didn't slow down.

"And you?" she smiled sarcastically.

"Well, I'm doing this because I'm crazy," he cleared his throat. "And you? You'll only ruin your reputation."

The girl put her hand to her mouth to stifle a laugh. There was no one in the hallway, and complete silence reigned. Michał prayed they wouldn't encounter any teachers.

"I'm doing it out of curiosity. Besides, I don't want everyone to think I'm a nice girl. It annoys me."

Michał was surprised by her answer. He'd always thought Agnieszka worked hard to improve her position in the school and in her class. However, he decided not to pursue the subject further. If she wanted to do what he did, he couldn't stop her.

They passed all the classrooms and stood in front of the women's restroom. Aga ran in without a second thought; Michał hesitated for a second, but finally, he too crossed the threshold of this girly fortress.

He was immediately surprised by the cleanliness everywhere. The men's restrooms always smelled of sweat, urine, and cigarettes. Most often, the toilets were full of paper or cigarette butts, and the walls resembled a drunk graffiti artist's dream.

This was different. There was even a mirror above the sink, which would only last two hours in a restroom for the opposite sex. Michał stood stunned by the "exoticism" of this place.

"Michał!" Agnieszka shouted. "We don't have time!"

The boy seemed to have returned from a long journey. He processed his friend's words for a moment, staring at her blankly. After a moment, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a razor blade that gleamed with a metallic sheen. He looked up. He opened his mouth to say something.

"If you ask me again if I'm sure, you'll get punched in the face!" she said, wagging her finger at him.

He'd actually wanted to ask, but for a second he'd lost it. A mounting excitement sobered him. He placed the metal in his hand.

"Who's first?" His voice was already filled with fear.

Agnieszka stared at the razor blade. Her dark hair fell loosely across her face as she reached for the blade. She twirled it between her fingers.

"I have an idea. I'll cut you, and you do me?" She tossed her hair back. Her eyes showed that she hadn't missed the terror.

Michał agreed. He straightened his right hand and extended it toward Agnieszka. He waited for the first cut. Surprisingly, the girl only placed the razor blade on his hand.

"You start," she murmured softly.

There was no time left. Michał firmly grabbed Agnieszka's left hand and, in one movement, slit the skin on the palm. A mass of blood spurted, spilling into every crevice of the girl's skin. A moment later, it began to drip onto the floor. The boy felt a buzzing sensation in his head, strangely happy and fascinated. He stared at the spreading red. Aga only moaned. Tears welled in her eyes.

Michał pretended not to care, but deep down he knew he shouldn't have dragged her into this.

It was too late.

Now she grabbed the piece of metal. She didn't hide her uncertainty. She pressed the razor blade against Michał's skin, but didn't make a cut. Michał wasn't about to wait. He ran his hand over the metal.

Something terrible happened. Agnieszka fell to her knees. The boy was sure she had fainted from the sight of blood. He knelt beside her, careful not to get blood on his clothes.

"What happened..."

He didn't finish. Agnieszka showed her hands. Both were cut. But she couldn't have cut herself cutting the boy's skin!

Michał realized that both of his hands were hurting too. He looked at them. They were bleeding and lacerated from thumb to wrist. He didn't feel any pain at first, drowned out by his excitement.

He couldn't understand the situation. The only explanation was that they had cut themselves while cutting the other person, but... it was simply unreal. Michał was certain nothing of the sort had happened.

"Michał, why am I bleeding so much?" Tears streamed down her cheeks. "But I... I mean, you... God!"

The boy had discovered a very important trait in himself. He was able to stay sober, even in the most stressful situations.

He glanced at his watch. The dial was slightly stained with blood, but he could clearly see that the hands read 10:32. The bell was ringing in three minutes. They had to get back to class by then.

Michał helped Agnieszka stand.

"I don't know what happened, but we can't think about it now. We have to get back to class."

"But if I show up like that," she sobbed quietly, pointing to her light green blouse with numerous dark red spots, "she'll find out!" Besides, my hands hurt like

hell. Hers looked terrible. They were cut more severely than Michał's, especially the left one. The underlying structures of her body were clearly visible.

"I'll take you home," Michał said, surprised by the speed of his thinking.

"And school?

" "Fuck it..."

Agnieszka smiled through her tears. Michał returned the smile, though halfheartedly. Fear froze his heart. He held the girl's arm, letting her lean against him. His sleeve was covered in blood. Fortunately, the abnormality of the situation allowed him to forget his own pain.

As they exited the restroom, Agnieszka paused for a moment.

"If we've already done this, we can't waste it!"

She slammed her open palm against the white wall, leaving a bloody trail straight out of a horror movie. An expression of utter triumph graced her face.

Michał couldn't deny himself this pleasure either. Next to Agnieszka's footprint, another, slightly larger one appeared. They looked like two red angels spreading their wings.

***

That same evening, when they were both lying in bed with bandages wrapped around their hands, they declared their love. They didn't need to use words. They just thought and blew each other imaginary kisses. The next day, it was obvious to them that they were a couple.

***

Sometimes happiness is brought by the most trivial things. For children, even the cheapest toy from the local kiosk brings immense joy. Later in life, we're no longer amused by dolls or toy cars, but we can also revel in every little thing, even the smallest.

And what about love? Does it always bring joy when it comes? Many people think so. However, there are times when love can't find its place within us. Each of us must open ourselves to feelings. And what if someone is afraid of them?

They shut down, thinking it's better this way.

Is that right?

In some cases, unfortunately, it is. I know it's hard to understand. After all, relatively everyone can allow themselves to love someone, not always with reciprocity, but with a one-sided love.

Unfortunately, some human tragedies are too terrible to be overshadowed even by love.

From the beginning of this relationship, born in her mind, Agnieszka had been somewhat distant. She seemed to keep her distance from everyone and everything. While she opened up more to Michał, he still felt he only knew a fraction of her. During many conversations, Agnieszka seemed distant. Her thoughts were clearly somewhere completely different. She spoke normally, laughed, joked... but she was alien. Her grimace, resembling a smile, looked genuine, but disappeared as quickly as it appeared.

Overall, Michał and Agnieszka spent a lot of time together, but their social life was rather boring. They did practically nothing but walk and talk together. Sure, Mońki wasn't exactly a place for entertainment, but if you looked carefully, you could find a few interesting spots. Michał had tried several times to go with Agnieszka somewhere more crowded. She always refused. She disliked crowds, that was obvious.

But there was more to it than that. Aga was afraid of others. She often flinched at the sound of certain words and was clearly uncomfortable around men. She wasn't popular in class either. She spoke to few people, and if she did, it was mostly with girls. She practically always sat in the corner, leafing through books. It was impossible to tell she was studying. Michał could sense it. She was thinking about something else. Strong emotions were tearing her apart, even in seemingly calm moments. He couldn't understand what was so deeply ingrained in her mind, but he was certain it wasn't pleasant.

He'd tried to talk to her about it once. It had been fruitless. She'd only given evasive, cryptic answers. In fact, this conversation had led to more questions.

Since Michał was practically the only member of the opposite sex Agnieszka spoke to, their relationship was known throughout the school. In fact, Agnieszka was also the only girl with whom Michał exchanged more than a polite "hello." As you might imagine, both were grounds for ridicule. They reminded everyone of a couple of weirdos, locked in their own world. But that didn't bother these two. They were both accustomed to teasing and widespread misunderstanding. They loved each other

(surely?),

and that was the most important thing.

Michał himself wanted to find the reason why Agnieszka was so insincere in showing her feelings. Despite examining practically every possible problem the sixteen-year-old girl could face, not a single glimmer of light appeared at the end of the tunnel.

Aga had no problems with her studies, her grades were at least passable. The other students didn't tease her about her appearance or behavior, at least not directly. They considered her different, but they seemed to have some respect for her. At least most of them did. There were two boys in her class (Michał couldn't even remember their names) who were quite attached to her, but that couldn't be blamed for the widespread and endless melancholy in her heart. Besides, she herself had chosen the life of a hermit and said she was happy with it.

The fact that their love gave rise to gossip might have been a cause for concern, but Agnieszka explained it herself.

"I don't care what others say. It's their business, and we have our own lives..."

(Why didn't she say she loved me?)

Her family situation wasn't bad either. Her father worked as a driver for a transport company, and her mother was a nurse. They didn't earn a fortune, but they were able to provide their daughter with a decent living. Besides, they were very nice people. Michał met them once, and it wasn't a trying experience. However, Agnieszka seemed mentally exhausted and terrified by the situation. Throughout the evening spent with her parents, she uttered only a few words.

Her mother told the boy privately that Agnieszka had always been reserved and reluctant towards people. She also expressed her satisfaction that her daughter had finally found someone she truly loved.

Did she truly love him? Michał was ashamed of this, but he couldn't quite believe in this love. He loved her very much, but he wasn't sure if she felt the same way. He was afraid to express his doubts. He waited for a better moment.

It never came, because everything was resolved. Extremely brutally, but still.

And with the end of this one problem, another, much bigger than the last, arose.

The evening was filled with boredom. Everyone was exhausted by the heat. Even Michał's two brothers, Konrad and Szymon, usually noisy and unbearable, sat lazily in front of the television. Their parents were away; both had been working late. Since it was Friday, Michał could forget about his homework. He'd already spent several hours reading about new camera models, the prices of which were measured in five figures. It was good to dream.

He also kept thinking about Agnieszka, like a man in love. He'd only seen her a few times today. He asked how her hands were doing (she'd recently removed the bandages) and tried to get her out sometime in the afternoon. She couldn't, as she almost always did.

Michał had grown accustomed to this situation. It seemed normal to him that Agnieszka wouldn't talk to him. He needed her voice like a heroin addict, but he understood her nature. He wasn't trying to influence him.

Finally, around midnight, he got up from the computer. He rubbed his tired eyes and looked out the window. Soft moonlight filtered lazily into the room. Strangely, no insects seemed eager to fly in. "Maybe the heat fried all those hellish insects?" Michał thought. He had always been afraid of anything small, flying, and buzzing loudly. He had discovered this fear in his early childhood, when he was stung for the first time by a bee. He would scream like crazy, thrash around, and look as if he hadn't been stung by an ordinary insect but by a great white shark. Interestingly, this fear ended with spiders. Michał liked these animals and was intrigued by their lives. He even once had a small spider in a jar, but it escaped after only a few days.

The boy leaned on the windowsill and looked out at the world shrouded in the darkness of night. It was very quiet. Only the crickets were tirelessly playing their concerto. Only in a few apartments were the lights still on. The estate was fast asleep. Michał didn't intend to be any different. His eyelids were sticky, and he felt like he needed to catch up on the past week's sleep.

He took one last glance at the darkness and turned to head for the bathroom.

He clutched his head. A powerful pain ripped through his skull like a drill. He barely suppressed a scream. It felt like his brain had just exploded. He sank to his knees, his hands still clutching his aching skull. His face showed great suffering. He slowly opened his eyes. The world seemed to ripple. All the furniture danced around him like movie Indians around a blazing fire.

Colored spots obscured his vision.

He hissed softly.

Suddenly, the pain struck again. This time, below his stomach. Michał doubled over and hit his head on the soft carpet. His hands clutched his swollen stomach. He felt as if his blood vessels had burst under the pressure of the blood, and all the fluid trapped within them was spilling out into his body. Except this fluid was more hydrochloric acid than blood.

His testicles also throbbed with a dull ache. It was a pain only men who've ever been kicked in their sensitive area know. It was an inexplicable agony radiating throughout his entire abdomen, making him nauseous.

In a second, everything was over.

Michał stood up. He no longer felt anything abnormal; his body functioned normally. Only his mind was stunned by the situation. For a moment, he resembled a computer frozen by information overload. His eyes darted around the room, trying to recognize familiar shapes.

Everything was normal.

Michał searched for some logical explanation for this attack. He didn't have to think long. It was late, and he was exhausted. His body had simply rebelled and demanded an immediate dose of sleep.

The boy decided against washing himself that evening. He stripped off his clothes, leaving only his underwear on. He laid out his generally terribly uncomfortable bed, but in moments of exhaustion, it was as essential as a bottle of cold water for a man wandering the desert for a week. He didn't put out any bedding. He preferred to sleep without a pillow, and a duvet was unnecessary on such warm nights. He lay down, his arms under his head.

He stared at the ceiling.

A wave of thoughts flooded his mind. All the luggage he'd accumulated over the past seven days was slowly leaking out, like air from a punctured mattress. Michał remembered his pain, but he was too tired to dwell on it any longer.

He pictured the mountains. He saw white slopes and masses of people bundled in warm jackets. Each of them had a board under their arm. They were laughing. Snow had begun to fall. His friend, Adam, stood beside him. He asked if he wanted to run a short race. Michał agreed.

A scream.

Michał sat up in bed, startled by the sudden noise. A piercing, feminine scream slowly receded, like the sound of a sharply plucked guitar string. The boy heard it clearly, but it seemed to him that it wasn't coming from close by. It was more like a very precise figment of his imagination. As if the sound were an echo of a recently interrupted dream. But Michał couldn't accept that the scream wasn't real.

He nervously glanced around the room. Suspiciously, he examined every detail. He glanced at the clock. 1:03.

"NO! PLEASE... DAD! PLEASE, NO!"

Michał jumped out of bed as if scalded. It was Agnieszka's voice, for sure! He felt it with every fiber of his being. And it wasn't a dream.

He started dressing again. Hastily, he threw on a T-shirt. Unfortunately, he tried to put on his pants too quickly and tripped. His back hit the cold radiator.

The fall calmed him down somewhat. What did he really want to do? Go to Agnieszka's in the middle of the night? And what? He would go there and say politely, "Hi Agnieszka, I know we live about 3 kilometers apart, but I thought I heard you scream. Did something happen?" Oh yes, that would be incredibly intelligent. Surely he couldn't do such a preposterous thing. He was a crazy man, but he wasn't completely crazy. He could tell the difference between imagination and...

"DADDY, IT HURTS, DADDY, I... MICHAŁ, HELP... MICHAŁ... IS THAT YOU? DADDY, PLEASE..."

Now he was sure. He'd heard it clearly. He wasn't going to hesitate any longer. He dressed fully and jumped out of the room. He left the apartment as quietly as possible. He didn't really think about whether he'd woken his roommates. No one and nothing would stop him from what he wanted to do. He rushed down the stairs and flew out of the stairwell like a slingshot.

The night air was surprisingly cool, but it made no impression on Michał. He ran as fast as he could. He passed dormant apartment buildings, houses, and shops. He passed two police officers who looked at him suspiciously but gave up on stopping him when they saw his terrified face. The boy stumbled a few times over jutting sidewalks. Even then, he didn't slow down.

His legs were beginning to show signs of exhaustion from running. It was becoming increasingly difficult for him to swallow the thick saliva, so he often spat sideways.

He couldn't stop running.

Every now and then, he heard more screams, but he ignored them. Only the words "please" and "beg" nestled deep in his mind, repeating themselves as if someone were jokingly playing them over and over on a tape recorder.

He was panting heavily, and his legs felt like lead, but he could already see Agnieszka's house. There were no lights in any of the windows. The house stood as if in a state of lethargy.

Michał stopped in front of the gate. He leaned against the cold metal bars. He had grave doubts about continuing. Everything looked so... normal. Not a sound, not the slightest whisper. The darkness was inexpressibly still.

He decided to enter, but probably not because Agnieszka's scream was still in his head. He felt sorry for his late-night jog. If anything, he could always transform his visit into something romantic. He would make some statement that he only came to see Agnieszka again because he couldn't sleep without the light in her eyes. I know it's silly, but Michał was good at such stories.

Life had taught him to lie.

He stood before the door. This time he didn't hesitate, just knocked softly.

Silence answered.

He knocked again.

Again, nothing.

The next two attempts were also unsuccessful. Not a single light bulb flickered in the entire house. Michał hesitantly tried the doorknob. The door was open. Something was blocking it, but not so tightly that the sixteen-year-old boy couldn't open it. He somehow pushed his way into the hallway, which was, of course, unlit. Michał kicked the item lying under the door. It was a leather jacket (at least that's what it looked like when his eyes penetrated the thick layer of blackness). It didn't matter much, though.

The boy realized his heart was filled with anxiety. His hands were trembling slightly. He thought to himself that this was the stress every novice burglar must have felt.

However, his legs seemed to detach themselves for a moment and begin their own routine. Michał didn't even notice when he began pacing the entire house. The first floor was empty. The rooms looked normal, almost identical to the day he'd first seen them.

The overall order was almost artificial.

He set foot on the first step of the stairs. The wood squeaked loudly. Michał wasn't bothered by it. In those few minutes, he'd gained confidence. Perhaps it was the courage of a man heading for the electric chair.

He quickly climbed upstairs. He peered into each room one by one. He carefully examined Agnieszka's bedroom. Only there did he notice something was wrong. Her room wasn't as tidy as the others. In fact, it was as messy as after a tornado. Bedding was strewn everywhere, a potted plant lay under the windowsill, and numerous pieces of clothing hung on the monitor. And the chaos reigned where Agnieszka was as strange as the order in Michał's room.

Something creaked.

The boy jumped in fright. Someone had surely woken up and would soon find him. He wondered if he'd have time to explain himself.

He stood still.

Silence.

He took an uncertain step . A soft sob.

A clang.

A

cry.

Michał quickly ran down the hall. As soon as he turned right, he stopped. His heart pounded.

He saw Agnieszka. She was sitting, leaning against the bathroom door. She was shrouded in shadow. Michał could only see the outline of a figure and a strange, metallic glow. He didn't approach, however, straining his eyes to make out any details.

He was afraid.

It was undoubtedly Agnieszka.

Her crying intensified.

Loud snoring came from the next room.

She sat motionless. He couldn't see her face. The shadow covered her like a warm shawl. It devoured her body in impenetrable blackness.

All that remained was that glint. Moonlight filtering through the half-open door of her parents' bedroom reflected off something.

"Agnieszka," he said uncertainly, his voice sounding more like the rustle of a dried leaf.

He approached a little. The shadow didn't recede in the slightest, and she didn't look up.

He had the impression that the blackness... the darkness, saw him. It followed his every move and laughed softly, as if waiting for his reaction. She closed her claws around his neck, kissed his forehead.

(Goodbye?)

A knife.

A long kitchen knife with a solid steel blade gripped her dirty

(bloody?)

hand, catching the pale light and flinging it at the girl's

(bare)

legs.

A nauseating smell assaulted Michael's nostrils. He grimaced in disgust. He tried to identify what he was smelling, but it was a stench he couldn't place. It was so heavy it made him nauseous.

Only after a moment did he realize it was a mixture of different odors. He managed to identify one part of it – it was undoubtedly the scent of alcohol, or more precisely, cheap vodka drunk by a 40-year-old man. The other half was harder to pinpoint. It was a sweet, yet unpleasant odor, like the stench of unwashed flesh, but much stronger.

Suddenly, it dawned on him. He remembered that scent. It was the scent of male semen.

The puzzle was practically complete. Michał stood beside Agnieszka. She looked down at her. He wanted to hug her, but he realized that was the last thing she wanted.

He felt disgust for her.

Then he transferred it to himself.

A single thought crystallized in his mind, one that seemed as unreal as it was obvious.

The bedroom door was ajar. The light from the night lamp spilled into the darkness, as if it knew it would not overcome it. Yet, it had enough power to illuminate Agnieszka's parents' marital bed.

The bed where her father slept, snoring terribly.

His pants were pulled down to his knees.

Michał felt a wild rage. His body was wracked with extreme emotions. He felt dizzy.

(What am I doing here? I guess I didn't eat dinner tonight...)

He crouched down in front of Agnieszka. His brain told him to say something and embrace her. His hands and mouth seemed paralyzed. All he could manage was to touch her hair.

She looked up. Her eyes were horribly pale and swollen. Her lips were bleeding, her cheeks flushed red. She looked like a ghost. Just like the apparition from the idiotic horror movies Michał had consumed as a child. He would never want to see her like that. He thought of Edvard Munch's painting "The Scream."

Agnieszka wasn't screaming. She was suffering. Her pain was the purest emotion, capable of completely taking over the mind and body. It was taking her away from the world. He was transporting her somewhere where he wrapped his body around her, allowing her to sink into him. To disappear.

She raised the knife.

Michał felt pain in his right cheek.

The taste of blood in his mouth.

She threw herself at him and hugged him with tremendous force.

She was naked from the waist down and reeked of vomit.

Blood dripped from Michał's cheek onto her hair. He knew he should have embraced her, but he didn't.

(Why am I disgusted by her? Why?)

Something emerged from her constricted throat.

"He... this... Michał... it hurt. Don't you... understand how... he... me...

" "Shh," he hugged her only now. "Close your eyes." It was a dream.

Just a dream.

The knife hit the floor.

A stain of blood.

***

Darkness.

Silence.

Deafening silence.

She used all her strength to open her eyes. It worked. They stung her pupils terribly, the light piercing them like a needle.

Where was she?

This wasn't her home. She was lying in some large room, decorated in a rather old-fashioned style. Directly in front of her stretched a row of uncovered windows with elaborately embellished curtains. Closer to the large bed she lay on, a narrow table with a bouquet of dried flowers on the top. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of brown wardrobes and shelves, probably from before she was even born.

Deep down, she longed to examine the room more closely, but she couldn't even move her head. Even blinking an eye made her stomach churn with pain. Her groin throbbed heavily, making her gag. The kick of her leg seemed almost unreal, like a dream.

Like a nightmare.

Like an unexpected boxing punch, memories came rushing back. Memories of last night. Before she could even picture it all, tears were streaming down her face. She squeezed her eyes shut.

It was a mistake.

She saw her father immediately. And herself. The whiteness of the room.

His movements. His

scent.

Breath.

She let out a moan, as if she were feeling that physical and mental humiliation again. As if she were feeling it on her again.

And inside her.

His words.

"Hush, darling. Everything's alright."

They echoed through her head, devoid of good feelings. She sobbed softly, and after a moment the wailing turned into a loud shriek, and then a resounding scream.

Everything hurt more and more. I think she wanted to die.

Yes.

(Where's my knife?)

With great effort, she rolled onto her back. She saw the white ceiling. She felt the salty taste of tears.

"Agnieszka

." Someone whispered. She knew immediately it was Michał, but she could only imagine her father.

His smile.

Someone sat on the bed.

(God, no! Not again!)

She wanted to run to the corner of the bed. Turn around, draw her knees up, hide her face.

She was ashamed of herself. She hated herself. She hated

him

.

She hated them.

"Agnieszka," Michał repeated, "calm down, it's me. " Please don't cry.

(What do you know! Get out of here, now.)

She wanted to say something, but a hard, heavy lump lodged in her throat, which, despite her best intentions, she couldn't swallow. All she managed to do was hiss.

She saw his face. It was Michał. Yes, it really was him. Not Dad. Michał.

"How are you feeling? Do you need anything?"

He knew his questions were hopeless, but he had no idea what he should do, what he should ask. After all, she...

He didn't even want to think about it. His imagination was blocked when he tried to recreate the situation Agnieszka had been in yesterday. He saw only blackness, even though he knew what he should have seen. But he couldn't. His mind wouldn't allow certain thoughts to enter his mind. He tried not to think.

(Forget?)

No. Just surrender to what was. Not to look through the prism of that night.

Agnieszka looked into his eyes. He wasn't smiling, but he wasn't sad. There was regret, perhaps compassion. His eyes glazed over. He looked terrified, but composed.

She didn't know how to answer him. It seemed to her that she'd forgotten how to speak Polish.

She reached out from under the covers. The sun was shining brightly and it was very warm, at least for October, but her hands were blocks of ice. She ran her fingers over the soft sheets.

Blood.

There was blood on the sheets.

Michał saw it too. He quickly threw back the covers. There was a large stain at Agnieszka's feet. She was bleeding. There wasn't enough red liquid to tell it had been oozing all night. He remembered that when he found her, she was covered in blood, but then the bleeding stopped.

(I should have called an ambulance. Immediately. What an idiot I am!)

Agnieszka was paralyzed with fear as Michał dialed the ambulance number. They'll find out.

(They'll see what a slut I am.)

She wanted to ask him not to call, but sobs choked her words.

She felt an unpleasant wetness beneath her buttocks.

And pain. Unbearable pain.

Michał placed his hand on her forehead. He gave her a terrified look

. "The ambulance is on its way."

("Easy, honey.")