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‘Jesus…’ Victoria whispered, taking her cell out of the bag, ‘It’s my mum…’
The girl looked up at the display: that’s right, that was her mum calling her.
‘Yeap’ she answered with no desire. ‘It’s ok. It seems like I’ve got a job. I’m gonna prepare my papers tomorrow. Are you at home today? Good. Me? In the centre, at Mayakovskaya Vasilisa and me are drinking coffee. Late, mum. Ok. I’ve got it.’
Victoria was getting angry with every asked question, but her mother insisted on her question being answered by her daughter.
‘Why do you speak with your mum in this way?’ Kharon asked unexpectedly.
Vic looked at him, at Vasilisa and dropped her head. She touched the napkins, taking sighs but kept silence. What was she supposed to say? She didn’t like speaking about her family atmosphere.
‘It’s complicated to explain,' at least she made herself speak.
The girl looked at the man with eyes full of tears.
Her mother and Vic’s relations left much to be desired. They loved each other like other parents and their children did, but they didn’t understand each other. Her mother wanted one thing, the daughter wanted absolutely another. For long time no one had listened to Victoria. Parents always had a great argument – “I know better because I’m older” and you could have nothing to do.
Olga Vladimirovna had been proving her daughter that she shouldn’t get bad marks at school. She expected her daughter would follow in her mother’s footprints and become a doctor. Victoria didn’t want it. For some time, there had been flaming conflicts in their family until Vic entered the university to get degree in design art.
In her childhood her mother tried to make her daughter be in gymnastics because she had wanted to be the one when she was young. Victoria didn’t like it and she got in dances.
That was what was going on for all her life. There was an opposition even about food: Olga Vladimirovna never made macaroni that Victoria liked…
At the deep evening Kharon was holding Victoria’s hands and looking at her eyes, trying to smile. Vic was perplexed.
When Vasilisa left for home the demon, being tired of her gossips, breathed with relief. Victoria was watching the woman walking away.
‘What time shall I come to you tomorrow?’ Kharon asked to switch her thoughts over to him.
‘I’m gonna get my insurance for work and… that’s really difficult. Let’s meet at three at the Arbat? I’ll be waiting for you in the beginning of the street. Deal?’
‘Deal. May I kiss you?’ he asked for permission carefully.
Vic smiled and reached her lips to his.
‘I wanna tell you something.’ Kharon whispered after he had torn his lips away from hers.
‘Speak,’ Vic glanced at his eyes.
‘Be careful with your friends.’ The demon smirked in a slyly way. A serious hint sounded in his voice, that made her heart shake.
‘What does it mean?’ Vic got nervous. ‘Why are you speaking like this? Kharon!’
‘Because I can hear and see what people think about… And today I’ve seen and heard…’
‘What was she thinking about?’ her heart was beating like a drum.
Kharon kept on smiling. He stopped embracing the girl and focused on her face.
‘Sweet dreams, dear.’ He stooped to her and whispered, ‘at three at the Arbat, tomorrow.’
The man turned around and went in the direction of the park.
‘Kharon!’ Vic cried. ‘Wait!’
But the demon rapidly walked into the darkness, covering with a dark shadow.
‘Kharon!’ Vic screamed again and rushed for him.
The girl was running so fast that she almost got under a car, crossing the street. When she came to herself there was nobody in the distance.
‘Where did he get?’ she whispered, stopped before the road.
It was silence around …and only a thought: I don’t have friends any more. “Be careful with friends” was a terrible warning! What did it mean? What did Vasilisa think of that Kharon decided to warn? Why did he do that? To disappear with no explanations…
Victoria was alone among the empty street and looked at 1905 station where life was still burning near.
There was her cell in her hand. Vic was phoning her friend.
‘Vic? I’ve forgotten anything in the caf'e, have I?’ the girl got worried at once.
‘No. I wanted to know what you think of Kharon?’
There was silence on the phone. Vic was looking at the frozen part of the park without moving.
‘He…’ Vasilisa said, ‘he’s nice. Handsome.’
‘Nice and handsome?’ Vic asked quietly.
‘Romantic.’ The friend added.
‘Did you like him?’ Vic ask straight staring at a tree.
‘I liked him as your man. You both look great! Don’t worry.’
‘I don’t. I just wanted to know your opinion. Ok, I’m going to bed. See you.’
Nice. Handsome. Romantic. Be careful with friends. Victoria sat on a bench near the entrance. There was only one thought jumping in her head – no meetings with any friends. Plus, the demon’s warning did its part. What was Vasilisa thinking while she was looking at the man whom Victoria had sold her soul for?
Vic closed her eyes. Morning. Maybe afternoon. It was her own place near her house at Bolshoy Predtechensky alley. There was nobody here. Suddenly a tall broad-shouldered man appeared with an insane mask on his face. With his big paws he shook the girl and asked for money. She cried and mumbled something not understandable through her closed with his hand mouth.
He drugged her behind the garages, threw on the ground and stabbed. Victoria screamed and rushed to help the girl but… she was back-strapped to do anything. She was a discorporate material. Victoria tried to catch the man’s hand but her fingers, her own fingers went through his hand like in damn horror films.