Nightmarish Sacrifice (Cardew) (30 page)

             
I wouldn’t let this happen to me.

             
Because I had something Odda hadn’t been blessed with – I had his love – although not declared yet, it was existing, and even though it could turn out more of a curse than a blessing, I would have never given it up even if I had had the chance.

             
I would never forgive myself such a mistake – dead or alive.

             
Cardew did love me – and if this was his reason to kill me, I would be proud to die.

             
My decision was already taken.

             
As if this conclusion was everything the station had been waiting for so as to appear, its outlines started intensifying in the distance through the pleasantly thick fog and let me know that I was almost home.

             
Home...

             
Where he was.

             
While I was climbing off the train and the oncoming evening was greeting me with its icily cold fragrance, I already knew that there was no point in reasoning what to do.

             
Not at all – simply because I had no choice.

             
I loved Cardew – and this feeling was deciding instead of me.

                                          The unbearably boiling hot water splashed onto me but, despite my usual likings, I didn’t make it cooler; I needed to revive my deadened perceptions, to shock or provoke them in any way, to render them in pain if needed, but to wrench myself out of the numbness.

             
To live again.

             
The suddenly achieved harmony with myself had awoken in me the need to feel alive and forget about the existence of fears altogether.

             
Past would remain past, no matter what I did – if Cardew had done something wrong but had then decided to change, I was to trust him – and if he was still a murderer in his soul...

             
Then one day I’d have the same beautiful gravestone as Odda’s.

             
‘May your soul find peace, beloved Freya.’

             
Of course, if there was anyone willing to place the word ‘beloved’ in front of my name...

             
Not that it would matter to me when I died.

             
I just couldn’t let my whole life be determined by my imaginary fears instead of my mind.

             
Instead of my heart...

             
I left the bathroom and, with my hands still wet, turned my phone on so as to dial Cardew’s number; immediately, a whole army of missed calls and received messages flooded my screen and I waited a bit for all of them to load, so the machine wouldn’t break down.

             
Thirty-three missed calls from Cardew! Then he must have called in each hour we hadn’t spent together!...

             
I smiled not without content, and went on to read the messages he had written to me; the first one was sent still during the rehearsal and I ignored the typing mistakes my boy had done while most probably writing secretly: ‘Let me know if you have any problems. Call immediately if you don’t feel alright or as soon as you read this.’

             
His words made me giggle; although they sounded like an order, I could imagine how worried he must have been so as to write me such a thing.

             
So I was good at acting, after all, as he had got caught, too... Or had the effect of my play on him had other, far more subjective roots...

             
I didn’t have the chance to read all the other messages, as my phone started ringing and Cardew’s name blinked on the display; I didn’t hesitate whether to answer.

             
“My love?” I spontaneously called him; the words escaped my lips instinctively and so naturally that they startled me, but the boy seemed to be too much under the power of another emotion so as to notice.

             
“Freya! Thanks all deities!” he was trying to appear calm but for the first time I was sensing his unbreakable shield slide aside a bit and let me catch a single glimpse of the human being behind it – a feeling human being. “Are you alright, lovely? What happened to you?”

             
“I’ll be better if I see you,” I answered sincerely; his tone had gone calmer after the initial exclamation, but I pretended I hadn’t noticed the outburst of emotions at all. “Where are you?”

             
“Home, but I’ll come to take you out, wait for me there,” Cardew already sounded totally composed, as though nothing unusual had happened lately. “You are in your room, right?”

             
“Yes,” I said instead of the suspicions-bringing ‘of course, where else!’. “I’ll wait for you here.”

             
“Weakness suits you,” he joked with my lack of protest against his suggestion, but I teased him back.

             
“It was just temporary – and it passed!” I declared proudly, enjoying his silent laughter.

             
“That’s the most appealing side of it,” the boy reassured me and hung up, letting me chuckle alone in the utter silence in my room.

             
The evening had fallen an hour or so ago, when I had found myself back at the station, and the night outside was already warmly black, so I pulled the curtains closed and turned the lights on, then started wandering around the place while dressing up and drying my hair.

             
Cardew appeared just in time – the soft sound of his fingertips lightly drumming on the wood filled me with such excitement that I hurried to open the door and dart to him as soon as possible. It seemed that some of the heavy-coloured fragrant roses he had brought for me had been too fragile for the sharp movement with which he moved them off my way not to cut my fervent enthusiasm to hug him, and dozens of wine-crimson petals spilled all over my hair as I victoriously pressed my forehead to his chest and sighed deeply with blissful relief.

             
“Lovely –” Cardew chuckled with quiet pleasure and, as I pressed my body more tightly to him without loosening my grip, he allowed himself to rest his chin on my head carefully and to lock his arms behind my back, his hands fondling me like I needed soothing. “Is anything wrong?”

             
“No,” my whisper was muffled in his embrace and I clung more strongly to his shoulders. “I’m just so happy to see you –”

             
“This flatters me,” the boy smiled and gently lifted me off the ground to carry me to the inside of the room, so he’d be able to close the door behind us, as neither would enjoy having any audience in that moment.

             
The space in front of my door remained covered in dark rose petals...

             
Like in freshly shed blood...

             
“Now tell me everything,” Cardew smiled comfortingly, noble concern in his voice as he left me on my feet in the middle of the room, and turned back to lock the door with a calming sound.

             
My lips departed but I didn’t manage to utter anything; in the moment when he turned towards me again and the lamps dispersed radiant light onto his so strikingly handsome face, I couldn’t help recalling what I had been told about his family and tragical childhood, and that filled me with compassion.

             
And guilt – while spending the whole day in wondering whether he had killed Odda or not, I had never asked myself how he must have felt in case he had been accused of a murder he hadn’t committed and many people still believed it had been his fault...

             
“What are you doing?” Cardew burst into light content laughter as I unexpectedly ran towards him and wrapped him in a tight sudden hug.

             
But I didn’t answer, just rested my forehead on his shoulder and stayed silent as if I wanted to become a part of him, and tried inhaling in the rhythm in which he was so as to force myself not to sob.

             
No, I couldn’t compensate for his joyless lost childhood with my tears – my love couldn’t make up for all the pain he had been through as it was a completely different type of love that he had been deprived of, but still, I could give him what he would never ask for.

             
Not only passion.

             
Compassion.

             
The embrace would be equally soothing for both of us, but I would make Cardew believe it had been me who had needed it, although I was doing it for him: he was too strong to tell anyone how much he needed consolation, and I loved him too much to care if he would be aware or not of what I was doing for him.

             
“Are you alright, Freya?” he whispered quietly, obviously having sensed the despair and craving for soothing in my tense hug; like every time he was using my real name, he sounded seriously concerned, not playful, and his lips brushed my forehead with an almost brotherly feeling as if he wanted to check if I was having high temperature.

             
“I was missing you,” I confessed honestly; this time I didn’t feel embarrassed – I knew that whatever he was saying, he did need to hear that another human being needed him – especially desperately as I was. “And I haven’t seen you since yesterday morning! –”

             
In fact I was sensing it as though I hadn’t met his eyes for years, as though he was another person, not the same boy...

             
But indeed, it was me who had changed their attitude.

             
Not that I would stop teasing Cardew or fighting with him in our favourite way – he would be neither my slave nor my lord, just my rival as before – but when we were alone, I would sometimes let him consider me weaker than him if that would give him the feeling of security – as he was really giving me my own security in return.

             
I pulled a bit back from him and gave him a sparkling smile that made him respond in the same way and left him with the misleading impression that I had been joking.

             
However, the embrace had had its calming influence onto me already, so I smiled more widely and gave him a wink.

             
“I overslept a bit but now I’m perfectly alright,” I announced energetically and just then felt how full of energy I actually was. “And what were you doing, my love?”

             
Gods, I addressed him like this once again... The more I was repeating it, the more naturally it sounded pronounced aloud.

             
“Circling around your hostel like a lone wolf and wondering whether you are fine,” Cardew smiled and his fingertips tenderly moved a tuft of hair behind my ear; although he didn’t say it, I could sense that he was pleased by the way I was calling him, so I just chuckled on the inside.

             
“I intentionally didn’t ask you stay with me,” I shook my head and rose on my tiptoes to glide a warm short kiss up his neck. “I didn’t want to make you sit beside my bed and hold my hand... you had a better opinion of me, I didn’t want to let you down –”

             
“And maybe it’s just that you still can’t relax completely when you’re with me,” his voice was full of regret, not accusation, and he quickly covered that feeling up, but I had already sensed it; his face was strangely inexpressive when, to my mild surprise, he added quietly, “It’s not your fault but mine –”

             
“Let’s not look for fault right now,” I suggested with an innocent smile aiming to distract him, and my fingers slowly ran through his hair and entwined in its dark scarlet-crimson waves of warmth.