Nightmarish Sacrifice (Cardew) (28 page)

             
Why would it matter to that unknown boy whether Cardew would kill me? Why would Preston care if I fell a victim to my imagination and missed the chance to be really happy with the boy who truly loved me, just because I had been horrified by some false visions of mine?

             
Who was I to Cardew’s former friend, after all? A stranger who wanted to abuse his naiveté so as to hurt a boy he had known...

             
“Please don’t cry –” Preston uttered in embarrassment and reached his hand, but didn’t manage to touch me before his outburst of bravery quickly passed. “I didn’t want to offend you –”

             
“No, you’re right,” I removed my tears so as not to make him feel guilty, and closed my eyes for a moment to make my stare as stably calm as possible. “I don’t have the right to ask. Living means risking, doesn’t it? If I so much want to know his worst sides, I have to be bold enough to face them.”

             
“Cardew is not a bad person –” the auburn-haired boy stuttered in confusion, still unsure of what exactly to tell me. “He just –”

             
“Look, I don’t want to hurt him!” my emotions burst out suddenly, and I hardly restricted myself from grabbing his shoulders and shaking them to add effect to my words. “I just want to prevent him from hurting me! –”

             
Like I had supposed, bewilderment shone briskly in Preston’s gullible eyes, but I didn’t give him enough time to say anything.

             
“I know that he was accused of having killed that girl Odda,” I finished more quietly, already wondering what to do next as Preston was obviously reluctant to help me. “I just wanted to know if I am in love with a monster that can kill me like he did kill her!”

             
A moment of waiting passed in which the youth in front of me gave no signs of surrendering, so, pretending that I had given up already and would leave straightaway, I turned round in a final attempt to thus provoke any impulsive action of his...

             
“Cardew has never killed,” Preston’s voice pronounced clearly behind me. “But he is capable of killing you.”

             
I turned back sharply; his face was decisive again, like in the moment when he had covered me up and asked to wait for him behind the house – and that gave me a faint shimmer of hope.

             
“What do you mean?” I managed to murmur as my voice had gone almost silent.

             
Preston was biting his lips, but still, hurried to answer, “That Cardew’s desire to be strong is more powerful than his ability to love.”

             
My breath froze on my lips as if Death itself had touched my hand.

             
Again.

             
“If his love towards you starts making him feel weak, he can kill you only to prove to himself that he’s not attached to you to the point of dependence,” Preston announced carefully, as though whether his words would startle me mattered at all in the face of the constant real danger I was living in. “He’s not cruel, just too proud –”

             
I nervously ran my fingers through my hair, my heart was echoing emptily as its beats were slowing down; he thrust his hands in the pockets and waited for my reaction, but – to his relief, I didn’t faint.

             
“Don’t pity him and never behave as though you’re stronger than he is,” Preston went on when he noticed that I wasn’t intending to add anything. “And never offer him any help – he easily gets offended if you act as if he really needs support.”

             
“Is this why you stopped being friends?” I asked below my breath and the boy nodded with a vaguely sad smile.

             
“It happened after he was accused and most people thought Odda’s death was because of him,” Preston had let his head fall on his chest and I could sense that he hadn’t spoken honestly to anyone about these events before. “Cardew didn’t show it but the period must have been hard for him and I wanted to help... This just broke our friendship.”

             
The silence felt more comfortable than speaking, so I just nodded and moved my stare off his and prolonged the pause so as to let him calm down; however, he had obviously decided to get to the bottom of the question, as he did go on after a short sigh.

             
“I don’t believe he killed that girl,” his tone was sincere despite being unconvinced. “I know that she was in love with him but he didn’t even like her, he has told me this. She may have killed herself because of unrequited love, but they haven’t been dating or anything.”

             
“What did Cardew tell you about her death?” I was shivering so anxiously that had he been a bit less shy, he would have caught my hand to prevent me from falling on the ground in case I finally eventually fainted.

             
“Nothing,” Preston shook his head again. “He never spoke to me about that, just told me he didn’t want to lie to me, and since then got darker and more isolated, then stopped talking to me at all. But still, I don’t believe he killed Odda.”

             
“You’ve known him for many years, haven’t you?” I looked at him very carefully so as not to make him doubt in me again.

             
“About ten,” the boy sighed once more. “His childhood must have been far from pleasant – his parents weren’t concerned about him at all and died too early anyway, and his brother was envying him for every possible thing, so I doubt he’s been very happy –”

             
My features flexed with compassionate pain; I hadn’t looked for the reasons of Cardew’s behaviour in his early years, but maybe that had been just where I should have started from.

             
“So that’s where his mania to appear strong comes from?” I supposed and sat down on the soil like before.

             
“Probably yes,” Preston lifted his shoulders and relaxed down as well, but – so as not to make me feel intimidated, he chose a place as far from me as he would sit from a complete stranger. “However, Cardew is somewhat of a knight – I guess helping the weaker makes him feel strong, I don’t know, but anyway, he wouldn’t enjoy an easy victory against a weaker rival – and this poor girl can’t have possibly appeared stronger than him.”

             
“She has been pregnant when she died,” I reminded him what I had heard from the elderly lady and he nodded that he was familiar with this fact. “She may have tried to blackmail him –”

             
But Cardew’s friend was already shaking his head with confidence.

             
“This can’t have been his child,” he reassured me – his tone so certain as if he was not speaking of Cardew but of himself. “He’s always in control of the situation and she can’t have tempted him in any way. Besides, we were still best friends then – he would have told me if he had been with her –”

             
“Would he?” I sighed bitterly, but he nodded with confidence.

             
“Cardew is not such a boy,” Preston lifted his shoulders, and his eyes radiating childlike goodness stopped with conviction on mine. “People generally consider pride as a flaw – but in his case it’s a virtue –”

             
I bit my lips and waited for him to go on; maybe because of my infatuation, but to me all Cardew’s features seemed utterly attractive – even those which I wouldn’t tolerate in another person, especially in myself.

             
“All the girls in town adored him, and he could have easily ruined many lives if it was not for his pride,” Preston made a short pause before glancing up at me and rapidly looking away again before asking, “Did he... tell you that he loves you?”

             
I had somehow instinctively expected the question, so it didn’t shock me; my voice dissolved helplessly into the air, but still, the word my lips uttered trembled around loudly enough to be understood.

             
“No.”

             
No – just a single word but generating such desperation into my heart...

             
A discouraging saddening heart-breaking no.

             
Simply no...

             
Preston nodded thoughtfully and gave me enough time to regain my strength while his fingers were nervously playing with a single blade of grass he had pulled off without realizing it.

             
“When he does, you will know that you are his perfect one,” he whispered below his breath, and I shuddered with the suspense – I so badly needed to let him convince me of the approaching of such a moment...

             
“Cardew is a perfectionist in the most extreme sense of the word,” Preston’s voice was quiet but calming, positive, and so trustworthy that I couldn’t resist believing in its words anymore. “To him letting a girl close means honouring her with the privilege of being his, proving her perfection – and I am more than sure that, however much Odda has wanted him, she has never been his: no matter the circumstances, Cardew would never spend a night with her, and therefore, she could by no means have his child –” the boy shook his light-auburn-haired head again, and calmly repeated the word to stress it once more, “Never.”

             
Never...

             
My palms hid my face and muffled my sigh; if only I knew Cardew well enough to be able to explain his actions to myself...

             
Nonetheless, my subconsciousness hurried to embrace Preston’s statement as pure truth, and quickly, somehow automatically, like self-defence, released itself from the most appalling suggestion haunting it – that Cardew had killed his own child; this hypothesis simply sank far out of my reach, and my fears that it could exist were lulled to – hopefully – eternal sleep...

             
But the ones about the girl remained open and bleeding...

             
“Is it possible that he killed Odda as a sacrifice?” I voiced my dread with a silent moan sounding like a plea. “Please tell me, you know what he believes in – or at least used to in that period –”

             
I wasn’t seeing Preston’s face as he had turned his head away, but I heard his sigh clearly.

             
“He believes in himself only,” was the short but utterly logical answer. “I know that he’s really interested in ancient rituals, but I don’t think that this proves he has killed Odda.”

             
My heart was about to explode from the violent double attack of uncertainty and tension; wouldn’t I ever find peace?!...

             
“Hear me, Miss Freya,” Preston began and I was a bit surprised that he had remembered my name – and added a title in front of it – but this did pin my attention. “I trust Cardew, but... I cannot advise you to trust him, too – that’s a decision you must take alone.”

             
Astonished, I lifted my head off my hands and looked at the boy sitting down a metre or so away from me – his hazel eyes were uneasy but earnest, true concern filling them with mild airy imaginary fire.

             
“Thank you,” I said breathlessly and stood up before reaching to shake his hand. “I needed to hear this.”

             
“Look for me if I can help you in future,” he offered quietly and walked with me to the front of the house to show me the direction in which the railway station was; his worried eyes lingered on my face for a whole moment, and he quickly added after bashfully looking away, “And please take a good care of yourself –”

             
“I will,” I replied with one promise to both pieces of advice he had given me, then thanked him once more and walked away without turning back – I could sense his eyes shyly following my movements until I hid from his view.

             
I would look for him in future.

             
Only if I had any future left...

             
It was still around noon and while hurrying to get on a train back towards my town, I was wondering how the thought that the same evening I would crash into Cardew’s embraces could still calm me down after everything I had learned about him – a strange fact that I didn’t try to explain to myself – such effort would only grant my soul with the pain of another unveiled truth.

             
I was recently living more comfortably surrounded by secrets... Like dozens of luxurious satiny pillows, they were embracing me from all directions into safe lulling warmth, thus isolating me from the sharp dead-cold edges of the truth hiding behind their endearingly smooth textures and tender soothing colours.

             
Secrets could be so irresistibly beautiful...

             
It seemed that the sun didn’t like Cardew’s home town at all, as the sky was as overcast as the day before, and the lack of any sleep was adding gray shades to everything I was perceiving. No living creatures were wandering in the streets, as if the absence of sunshine was depriving them of the desire to breathe fresh air and have walks, and I was feeling as though the city had somehow frozen...