×Caution: this story may hurt some readers, in many ways.×
***
Vasil felt guilty for Stephan. He could imagine how the rest of the day would have gone if he had accepted his suggestion. He would probably have been welcomed warmly, and when the two of them were trying out Stefan's new game, his mother would bring them hot chocolate.
Vasil had understood Stefan's real intention from the beginning, but while he appreciated his friend's concern, he knew that one night away from home wouldn't solve anything.
And Vasil was tired. He really and deeply wanted to go back home. He wanted to fall into a deep sleep, and when he opened his eyes again, he hoped the nightmare would be over.
His mother, no, Irina, probably wouldn't return home until late at night. Vasil knew her work shifts by heart. This gave him time to be alone and think more about the solution that had come to his mind.
It was no pretty way to escape, maybe as bad as his mother's, no, Irina's way of escaping problems, or even worse, but it didn't matter to Vasil anymore.
Probably no one else cared either.
Vasil knew he wasn't important to anyone, but when he thought about it, Stefan's face appeared in his mind. He shook his head to clear the image away. Stefan was a good friend, but they had only known each other for a few months, and it probably wouldn't take more than a few months before Stefan would completely forget about him.
They were two completely different and opposing personalities. It would be better for Stefan to find friends like himself in the future.
Vasil could imagine his future. Probably, despite his current reluctance to think about it, one day he would become a great lawyer. Maybe his parents' being lawyers wouldn't get him into law school, but their experience would make him a better lawyer. Stefan was already skilled at reasoning, logic, and persuading others, so he probably wouldn't lose in any court in the future.
But despite all this, Vasil, even though he had a good imagination, couldn't imagine his own future. He could close his eyes all day and think about it, but all he saw was darkness.
Before he realized it, he had arrived home, probably more deeply immersed in his thoughts than he had realized.
He took the house key from his pocket and opened the door. Before stepping inside, he listened to the silence of the house, and when he was sure no one was there, he entered.
He took his bag and belongings to his room and neatly arranged them. He also changed his clothes. He decided to clean the place for the first time in a long time. He didn't want Irina to have to deal with tidying up his room later.
His small room wasn't too messy, so it didn't take long. He decided to tidy up the living room too. Irina would be too tired when she returned to do it herself.
Vasil cleaned the tables, gathered Irina's things from all over the house, and took them to her room. He drew the curtains and organized the bookshelves.
He did all these things, but still hadn't found anything useful for his plan.
He went to the kitchen. The broken glass had already been cleaned up; the only thing left was washing the dishes.
Vasil rolled up his sleeves and got to work. The dirty dishes weren't too many, but some of them were a bit challenging, like the large pot that Irina had taken out of the cupboard, probably because she didn't feel like washing the pots that were readily available.
It took a little while to get all the dishes clean, dry, and put away. The only thing left was the big pot, which needed to go back into the cupboard next to the stove.
Vasil picked it up and opened the cupboard. He sat on the floor to get a better view of the inside of the cupboard.
That's when he saw it.
He placed the pot on his lap, reached inside, and pulled it out. He examined it carefully, and it seemed appropriate.
Vasil set the knife aside, put the pot back in the cupboard, then lifted it and carried it to the sink to wash it and dry it carefully. A dirty knife for this job was a bit... unsettling.
He looked at his reflection in the knife, then glanced at the clock. There were still a few hours before Irina returned. The only questions left were: where? And how?
Vasil had thought that maybe it would be better to do this outside the house. The alleys around their house were quiet, and usually no one walked through them. But if he considered his bad luck, someone might show up just at the wrong moment, and his problems would multiply. On the other hand, dying in a dark alley seemed much too sad and lonely, and Vasil hated being lonely.
Still, home didn't seem like a good option either. At least he could make sure Irina wouldn't be the first to find him. Such a scene could break even someone who had no affection for him.
He shook his head and frowned. Why was he thinking about this? Why did it matter to him what Irina might feel? Didn't Irina crush his feelings every time she got drunk? Why should he care about the feelings of someone who didn't give him a second thought?
He closed his eyes and made his decision. He took a deep breath and opened his eyes. All the feelings he had had, including sadness, anger, and hopelessness, were gone from his gaze. They no longer meant anything.
Soon, everything would be over.
He lifted his head to make it easier to access. He gripped the knife with both hands and raised it. He stared at it, shifting it slightly to make sure it would land in the right spot. Once he was sure it was aimed correctly at his neck, he gripped the knife handle tightly and closed his eyes again.
He whispered: "Three..."
He realized his voice was shaking more than he wanted it to. He cleared his throat and continued in a firmer voice: "Two..."
A second before he could say "one," the door to the house opened with a loud bang. Vasil's eyes snapped open in panic, and he quickly hid the knife behind him.
Irina walked in and headed toward the kitchen. She was holding shopping bags in her hands. When she saw Vasil standing in the middle of the kitchen, she stopped. "Vas… what are you doing?"
Her eyes shifted to his hand, hidden behind him. "What are you hiding?"
Vasil, trying to keep his voice steady, said, "I... I…"
He slowly extended his hand. Irina's eyes widened in fear when she saw the knife. She gently placed the shopping bags on the floor.
Vasil didn't know what to say. He was never good at lying.
He glanced at the plastic bag of potatoes among Irina's shopping. "I wanted to make mashed potatoes for dinner, but when I grabbed the knife, I realized we don't have any potatoes!"
Irina, walking slowly toward him with a soft tone, said, "But you don't know how to cook."
Vasil, flustered, replied, "Yes! I... I don't..."
Tears streamed down Vasil's face, covering his entire face. Irina quickly moved toward him, grabbed the knife from his hand, threw it aside, and pulled him into a tight hug.
It was as if she didn't want to let him escape to anywhere. As if she wanted to protect him from the whole world, even from himself.
She let him cry in her arms until he calmed down. They sat on the kitchen floor, and Irina gently stroked his hair for a long time.
Until Vasil finally calmed down and stopped trembling.
A few minutes passed in silence, then finally Vasil, with a trembling voice, asked, "Do you want to kick me out of the house?"
Irina gasped in horror. "Oh my God, no! Why would you think that?"
She gently pulled Vasil back to look at him. Vasil turned his face away from her gaze. "Because I'm not your child."
Irina looked away, then pulled a tissue from her pocket and handed it to him to wipe his red nose. She waited until he wiped his tears with his sleeve, then said, "I think it's better if we talk about this. You need to know everything... the whole truth..."