Chapter 5
Upon closer inspection, I realized it wasn’t a fight at all. Astakhov was merely parrying the brawler’s blows, and they were both injured by shards of glass from the coffee table.
Yeah, it was really hard to imagine Kirill actually fighting. It’s unlikely Kai considered physical violence acceptable. His specialty was bladed weapons—disdain, ignorance, contempt, detachment, indifference, and isolation.
The guys helped free Maxim, who was intent on violence. There was a commotion in the living room; someone managed to grab a first aid kit, but it seemed no one was going to help the brawler. He was so annoying everyone.
My conscience wouldn’t let me stay on the sidelines. I walked closer to the scene and quietly asked,
“May I?”
I had no idea who I was talking to, but Azamat asked tensely,
“Are you sure?”
I nodded firmly and reached for the first aid kit without a second thought.
The atmosphere was stifling, filled with irritation, disappointment, and anger. The boys had turned against Max, and the women’s whispers continued unabated: they were scolding him for the cruelty with which he had tormented Angelina.
The instigator perched on the edge of the sofa, while the victim huddled in a corner. The two looked epic, standing at arm’s length from each other. Yin and yang. Black and white. A sultry brunette and an incredibly fair blonde. The girl’s charm lay in her abnormality—albinism. This genetic disorder, considered a mutation, however, didn’t frighten her at all or spoil her appearance. She resembled a charming elf. At that moment—a frightened and shaking elf. Wet and with her short, snow-white hair stuck to her face, she evoked sympathy and pity.
I noticed that Max had been deliberately tormenting her for almost the entire evening, driving her crazy as best he could. And it turns out he was the one who doused her, too. Kir tried to defend Angelina, which didn’t please his “brother.”
He was huffing with rage, casting angry glances alternately between his friends and his “sister.” He reeked of alcohol, as if he’d been soaked in alcohol down to the last fiber of his being. I tried to take shallow breaths as I examined his wounds. His right arm, from wrist to elbow, was covered in cuts. Several small cuts and one large one, stretching for about twenty centimeters.
I worked on the surface, feeling the skeptical glances of everyone gathered around me. Of course, who would have thought I could be trusted with such complex manipulations?
“Let’s take him to the hospital instead?” suggested one of the girls, turning green from the unsightly sight.
“Actually, there’s nothing serious here. The wound is long, but superficial and smooth. It shouldn’t be hard to stitch up…
” “Oh my God…” was the answer.
“You want… stitches?” Aybazov voiced the general shock.
I looked up at Max. After a few seconds of hesitation, he nodded slowly, giving the go-ahead.
Among the other medications, there was a surgical suturing kit, which I noticed right away, so I suggested we handle it ourselves. In ordinary families, this was a rare item in a first aid kit, but in the Aybazov household, it was an essential part, since his mother was a surgeon.
If Maxim’s injuries had been truly serious—deep, jagged, or bleeding severely, for example—I would never have risked it and signed up for the treatment myself. However, there really wasn’t anything serious there.
After pulling on gloves and wiping them with alcohol wipes for good measure, I began.
Half the “spectators,” mostly women, immediately dropped away, lamenting in horror that it was unbearable to watch. The more resilient ones remained. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted only Angelina, who hadn’t moved an inch, frozen like a statue, staring at us.
When I pierced Max’s skin with the needle, the boy twitched. I stopped and continued only after I felt him relax. A sober man wouldn’t have endured the pain so stoically. Maxim was too drunk to even writhe. He seemed amused by the whole thing. Or maybe this lunatic was just pretending?
“Birdy-birdy-Veronica… the good Doctor Aibolit… he’s sitting under the tree. Come to him for treatment…” He glanced at Angelina. “And the cow, and the she-wolf…” He chuckled nastily, sending shivers down my spine. “They won’t cure you, leper, don’t even dream about it…”
This guy was, at the very least, enough to inflict philophobia and misanthropy. At the very most, serious mental trauma. He had persistent communication problems that hindered others’ lives, but not his own.
“Shut up,” Aybazov muttered, forcibly turning his friend’s head away so he wouldn’t stare at the poor girl with his furious gaze. “You’re nothing but trouble, idiot.”
“Go fuck yourself,” the troublemaker said succinctly.
By the end of the process, there were only five of us left in the living room: Angelina, Maxim, Azamat, and Zhanna, who was silently watching me.
The simple stitches took about ten minutes of concentrated work. The final touch was the bandage, and I breathed a sigh of relief. Because every second I was worried that this idiot might make a sudden move and screw it up.
“What about Kirill?” Elf asked in a worried, thin voice. “He had blood too…
” “I’ll find it now…” Aybazov said, suddenly realizing it.
“Veronica better go to him with this kit,” his former partner intervened. “He just went to the bathroom downstairs.”
I froze, instantly embarrassed by the implication.
I couldn’t refuse, or I’d arouse suspicion. Since no one knew I’d spent the night with Astakhov… then there was no point in showing up.
“Don’t you need any help yourself?” I turned to Angelina. “You’ve been sitting here in this wet place for a long time. You’ll get sick…”
“Come on, I’ll give you something of mine,” Zhanna offered her a protective hand.
I wonder how long she’s had spare things here?
Kirill was exactly where he’d been told. The door was ajar, and I entered tentatively, immediately meeting Astakhov’s eyes in the mirror, his sleeves rolled up and soaping his forearms.
Naturally, confused, I slowed, frozen in the doorway.
The strange sensation of being alone with Kir in the same room… was puzzling. I was already shy around him, and now it was made even worse by that damned night of Azamat’s birthday.
“I brought the first aid kit,” I said quietly and walked toward him. “Let me help you.”
What did I really want? To throw this first aid kit on the stone countertop and turn around.
It’s strange that Kirill didn’t object. It’s strange that he stood meekly before me, awaiting my offer of help. It’s strange that he didn’t utter a sound.
What kind of psycho is this guy?
I remained silent, too. And as quickly as possible, I dealt with his palms; both were covered in small abrasions. I covered the larger ones with bandages after cleaning them, and I simply thoroughly wiped the smaller ones with antiseptic.
Things got more complicated when I switched to the cut on his cheekbone. Touching Astakhov’s face felt bizarre. Out of the ordinary. And it was made worse by the sudden memory of smelling his lips… kissing them…
My God, I slept with him. With him, who looked down on everyone and considered the world unworthy of him. I simply nipped in the bud any thought of what he thought of me? Knowing, after all… that nothing sensible or good. In Kai’s eyes, I was definitely not the most worthy two-legged creature.
I wanted to laugh hysterically.
I pursed my lips.
I furrowed my brows and forbade myself to look anywhere but at the distinct scarlet streak on Kirill’s cheek. He had no visible stubble, but my fingertips tingled from contact with his seemingly smooth skin.
By evening, Azamat seemed in need of a second shave that day; he was dark-skinned and had a thick head of hair. Kir… it turned out, too. Although significantly lighter than his friend, Astakhov’s hair was just as thick.
I never considered Kai handsome. To me, he was all sharp angles and lines. He oozed coldness. His aura was off-putting. But it would be foolish of me not to recognize Kirill’s attractiveness. He had a noble appearance, belying his aristocratic origins. This paleness without a gram of tan, a high forehead, intelligent eyes… And a frozen stamp of condescension towards common people – worth a thousand words.
The cheekbone was covered with a bandage the size of the cut. I immediately removed my hands from Kir’s skin, not daring to look up. I began putting the contents of the first aid kit back.
Naturally, I didn’t receive any thanks. Both the rich kids seemed to think I owed them something.
Coming out of the bathroom, I caught my breath and finally shook off the numbness that had gripped me in Astakhov’s presence. Honestly, it was already infuriating—being like an amoeba in his presence.
The living room was dull; no one was in the mood for more fun. The culprit of all the troubles was absent. Angelina looked ridiculous and rather immodest in Zhanna’s leather clothes. Some of the guys stared shamelessly at her, further embarrassing her, as she kept tugging at the creaky black fabric.
I put the medications away in a niche in the wall and returned to the sofas, settling down next to Elf. I smiled at her with the corners of my lips and sighed, feeling a profound weariness. For the first time, I probably wanted to go home instead of staying with the group until morning.
“Angelina, I’m leaving, I can give you a ride on the way. I don’t think you’ll want to spend the night here,” Kirill appeared a little later.
Oh yeah. He was damn right. Maxim’s stepmother immediately perked up and nodded rapidly. An overwhelming urge to pity her arose, the way my mother had once pitied me as a child, “healing” my injured knees.
It was terrifying to imagine this sweetheart coexisting under the same roof with such a monster.
“And you? Are you going or staying?” I was stunned when Astakhov deigned to speak to me. “I can give you a ride too.
” “That probably won’t be convenient, I live on the other side of town.” And I was about to call a taxi.
“At night? Alone and in a taxi?
” “Well…
” “Veronica, use your brain.
” Alas, the “on” button had long since been hopelessly broken.
“Go ahead,” Zhanna approached us, and I immediately felt uneasy that these two were towering over me while I was warming the sofa with my butt.
I absolutely had to refuse. But I was overcome by their heavy gazes.
And I nodded jerkily.
Just fifteen minutes later, we dropped Angelina off at a beautiful, imposing mansion. She, too, belonged to the elite, after all. Not like me, who lived in a less-than-perfect residential area. I wouldn’t say we spent those fifteen minutes together pleasantly… but with her in the backseat with me, it was somehow easier. Despite the fact… we didn’t exchange a word.
And when Elf said goodbye and disappeared through the tall gates, I panicked, not knowing how to cope with a chunk of ice behind the wheel.
Kirill caught my darting gaze in the rearview mirror and demanded,
“The exact address.”
And my heart sank.
