The Whispers of the Sprite, Page 2

2

  ‘This room is fantastic. I was going to come here and look at it but then I change my mind,’ she says while I leave her suitcase on the floor, ‘You know, I couldn’t wait to living on my own, the parties will be amazing. My friend used to study here and she used to party five days a week!’

  I smile trying to catch my breath; her luggage is very heavy, probably filled with tonnes of clothes and makeup. I wipe the sweat of my forehead looking around her room.

  ‘I read that Swansea University has excellent social life’ I point out.

  ‘I know, right?’ she beams, ‘My parents run a pub so there my house it’s always busy. They always ask me to help them out during the busy nights so I am glad that I am here now. Plus my sister just got married; she wants to get pregnant soon so my mother will have a lot on her hands.’

  ‘Right’ I say because I don’t know what else to say but she continues talking.

  ‘The girl that studied here, she said that Wine Street got the best clubs ...’

  She carries on talking but I kind of switch off thinking about mum for a second, wondering if she will continue calling me every hour just to check if I am all right. I usually switch off my phone when I am out; she gets mad but I normally handle it when I get home. In certain situations, she learnt that she didn’t need to be so overprotective, but it's impossible to change her character. My teenage years were tough, as Mum never allowed to me go out to socialise with friends. She is focused on her work and on bringing me up right with her orthodox values. Her social life is non-existent and I am the most important person in her life. She abandoned men after my father left; I asked her to go out with friends from work but she never seems interested. She created a routine and didn’t to want to change it. My move from London will allow her to acknowledge that there is more to life than the household and me; I hope she will start socialising and changing her routine because she won't need to control me anymore, and she won’t have to worry about me all the time.

  ‘... I like especially Latino music. You know that I used to go to Salsa Lessons, but then I had to stop because of the school. What about you, what music do you like?’

  After a several second I realise that she’s gone quiet so I stop day-dreaming and look at her.

  ‘Sorry what did you say?’

  ‘I was talking about music. What’s your favourite?’ she asks, checking her reflection in the mirror. I am so glad that she didn’t notice that I wasn’t listening.

  ‘I don’t have a favourite genre. I don’t listen to the music that much.’

  ‘Well I like a bit of everything, rock, punk and pop but...’

  ‘So ladies, as it's our first day in Swansea,’ says Carl standing in the doorway, cutting her off, ‘I think we should leave the unpacking and go and explore. I am starving.’

  I smile thinking that he came in the right time.

  ‘I think that’s great,’ I reply quickly. ‘I am quite hungry too, actually.’

  ‘Fab!’ confirms Amy. ‘Give me ten minutes and I’ll be ready.’

  It turns out that Amy needs at least half an hour to get ready before she emerges from upstairs. We leave the house shortly after debating the choice of food. The University is only seven minutes away so we quickly reach the centre and relax in one of the many Chinese restaurants. I hope in this first outing I will get to know my new housemates a bit better.

  ‘I am going to study law,’ announces Carl after we order the meal. ‘My father is a solicitor you see, and he wants me to become one.’

  ‘I chose American studies, one of my friends mentioned that I would be able to go to the States for a year,’ interrupts Amy, stroking her blond curls. My jaw drops.

  ‘American studies? That’s exactly what I decided to study,’ I say, now feeling apprehensive about my choice. I didn’t expect to have Amy as my class partner.

  ‘That’s amazing!’ she giggles and starts jumping up and down on her chair. Carl can’t help but roll his eyes and I just give her a faint smile.

  ‘So you only chose this course because you could spend a year in the U.S.?’ asks Carl, still looking fairly amused.

  ‘Yes, I’d love to stay in Hollywood and meet all these famous actors,’ she continues.

  The rest of the conversation moves into slightly safer grounds, when we start discussing traditional Russian food. Amy can’t help but talk about her ambitions of partying as often as possible. Studying the same subject as her worries me slightly because Amy’s personality is already overwhelming but I vow to stay open-minded. We just have different priorities.

  After the Chinese, Carl and Amy decide to go back home but I can’t miss out on a walk along the coastline. I assure them that I will be absolutely fine on my own. This is the perfect opportunity for me to explore the beach; it’s great that I can just go out here as often as I like.

  The light warms a quiet city and is consumed by the looming arrival of darkness. I say goodbye to Amy and Carl and walk with them until I get to the beach. The noise of the sea nearby calms me down; the cool breeze caresses my skin. I should be here in the day time to admire the view, but the sound of waves splashing against the shore makes me want to forget about the world around me.

  It's after 9pm when I cross the street and enter the sandy seaside, inhaling the air deep into my lungs. I take off my shoes and socks; the sensation isn’t unpleasant when my bare feet touch the cold sand. The temperature noticeably decreases so I decide to zip up my jacket. The cold air hits me so suddenly. I gasp as the saltiness of the sea air catches in my throat. It suddenly feels too thick and somehow intimidating. But the deafening sound of the waves against the shore soon relaxes me. The sea always makes me feel better, more peaceful. The beach is enclosed by gloom. The light from the streetlamps shines on the pathways, but the light doesn't reach the sand.

  I think about my new life and my mother back in London. Everything is going as I imagined it. My close friend, Gosia, promised to visit me shortly and I am hoping to make few more friends. Gosia only recently started a PhD in Environmental Science. She still lives a very hectic life in London.

  Shockingly my phone hasn’t rung; normally my mother would call me to check if I am all right. It's strange not to feel controlled by her. I walk towards the sea, the air is stimulating yet I am enclosed by absolute darkness. For some reason everything seems to be bizarrely similar to that late night in London when I heard the noises on the street, but I quickly tune out those memories. My feet reach the water and I shiver; the sea is freezing cold but I enjoy how free it makes me feel, as I don’t have to worry about anything else.

  I start to feel unbearably cold. The thought of going home flashes through my mind but my next step is regrettable; suddenly I feel a rending pain in my right leg. I stop and search for my mobile as a source of light to find out what has just happened. I am in agony and then the screen of my phone indicates that there is broken glass embedded in my skin, a thick dark red fluid covers the sand. I gasp, feeling surrounded by the electrifying, thick, air as the pain shoots through me like a bullet.

  I suddenly notice someone else standing close to me, which makes me jerk back, I lose my balance and fall on the ground blinded by the darkness and pain. In a moment I reach for my phone, I grind my teeth together and point the light from my phone on the person standing in front of me. It’s a man but I can't see his face clearly. My breathing changes, his closeness frightens me and my mind is screaming to get out of here but I can't move. Then he is right next to me and within a few seconds I am lying on the sand; I feel pain spreading all over my body, sand in my mouth and then more penetrating pain so suddenly that I pass out.

  ***

  Someone is speaking to me; I hear voices and whispers around me but everything sounds faint, as though from a broken radio. The pain in my head keeps mounting, my lips part. I feel as my body has gone through a series of gunshots. I move slightly, but my eyelids are heavy.

  ‘She’s moving.’

  I tense my body but e
very inch of my skin is on fire, I wished that someone would ease the pain. There are more voices around me but I don’t recognise them; I drift into dreams.

  My eyes are dry as I blink myself awake. I turn my head around trying to get used to the illuminating bright light. My body is still sore but the pain is more bearable than before. I am not in my own bed, as everything seems to be white; the smell is different as well.

  Recognising my mother, I realise that I can't recall what happened. For some bizarre reason I feel drained as I have just run a marathon. I can’t feel the lower part of my body. The headache keeps mounting and my throat is dry.

  It takes me a moment to understand that I must be in hospital. All at once, my memories rush to me. There are a few people in the room; a woman that just injected something into my left side, she must be a nurse; there is also an older bald man with a triangular face, narrow eyes and a long thin nose. I blink rapidly trying to move my sore body but my effort are worthless. Mum’s eyes are red and swollen. She isn't wearing any makeup and her hair is tangled. Was she crying?

  ‘How are you feeling, Ania?’ she asks, softly touching my hand.

  ‘Not sure. Drained,’ I reply, feeling uneasy. ‘Some water, please.’

  The nurse gives me a glass with a straw and smiles sympathetically. The atmosphere in the room is tense, something is wrong and I feel as if everyone around me is hesitant to speak. As they afraid to tell me what’s happened. Mum shoots furious glances at the doctor as she is hoping that he won’t say anything to me.

  ‘What happened?’ I ask, looking around. I try to make myself comfortable, but every movement worsens my pulsing headache. I wish that I could see the rest of my body but I am feeling dreadful.

  ‘We will be back in a second, Miss Petrova,’ says the bald man who I assume is the doctor and he leaves the room with Mum and a nurse.

  They completely disregarded my question and I suddenly want to punch someone. I hate when people treat me as though I’m not there. My memories go back as far as the late walk across the beach and I am sure that might have something to do with me being here. My mind is completely blank and I feel frustration shoot through me. I close my eyes, feeling anger pressing against me. My mind is going through the worst possible scenarios; the hospital room is small and next to me there are greeting cards that are probably from my housemates or Gosia. There is a carton of juice on the small table. I turn my head towards the left side, trying to see the view from the window, but instead I realise that there is someone else standing there. It looks like I have more visitors than I expected but the man by the window isn't looking at me.

  ‘I am sorry for this lack of introduction. So far I have been completely ignored,’ I say loudly, not recognising my own high-pitched tone. The man has black hair and seems to be completely lost in his thoughts because he isn't responding.

  I can only assume that he is rude, pretending he hasn’t heard me. I have no idea what he is doing here; he can't belong to the hospital staff because he isn't wearing any uniform. He seems to be isolated from present reality. His dark hair is tangled and untidy, I notice his broad shoulders, I gaze at him intensely for a several seconds trying to guess if he is taller than six foot.

  ‘Excuse me,’ I press speaking louder than before, ‘Don’t you think it’s a bit rude not to even look at me?’

  He shifts his perfectly shaped body to the side and turns around, searching for my voice. I feel like an idiot losing my temper, flushing. The curtain of long black hair is covering his forehead. He narrows his prominent blue eyes and raises his left eyebrow with surprise. He has the most amazing eyes that I have ever seen; large, azure, like crystal-blue water in the sea. I am jolted when my mother suddenly enters, talking loudly, almost shouting at the doctor who is right behind her, looking irritated. She folds her arms and stands by my bed.

  ‘Ania, I wanted to wait to tell you but Dr Roberts here insisted that you should know what happened,’ says Mum, crinkling her eyebrows. Dr Roberts gives her a stiff nod and shifts uncomfortably to the side.

  ‘Well, Miss Petrova, you were stabbed a few days ago.’

  All my memories flood back to the cold night on the beach. I stare at my mother, trying to recall the man that I saw that evening. I hurt my foot. I stopped, trying to search for my mobile but then everything happened so fast. This man was right next to me…

  ‘Stabbed?’ I repeat, gasping.

  ‘Unfortunately, yes,’ adds Dr Roberts.

  ‘A runner found you in the early hours in the morning and she called an ambulance. You were very lucky, a few more hours and you wouldn’t be here with us,’ interrupts Mum.

  ‘Yes, thank you Mrs Petrova. You were given strong painkillers, we have been able to patch your stomach together but you will have to stay here for couple of weeks to recover. The worst is over now but you will be in a lot of pain,’ continues Dr Roberts.

  After a few seconds, I stop trying to recall anything else from the fateful evening because my mind is blank and I feel a cold plunging sensation in my stomach.

  ‘The police want to see you,’ announces a nurse facing me. Her green eyes flash with anxiety.

  ‘Yes, Ania, try to tell them as much as you remember,’ says Mum sharply. I exhale, realising that I stopped breathing for a moment taking in all this information.

  ‘I need to see other patients, Miss Petrova, but I will be back shortly to check on you,’ says Dr Roberts, smiling, and he leaves the room along with the nurse.

  After a few seconds of hesitation, Mother sits on the chair next to my bed. Then I realise that they have completely distracted me from the stranger by the window.

  ‘Mum, who is ...?’ I begin, but when I turn to my left, the space by the window is empty. It seems that the man has vanished, but how is this even possible? Apart from doctor and the nurse no one else left my room.

  ‘Yes darling?’

  ‘Never mind,’ I tell her keeping my eyes at the empty space for a while. I am not sure if what I had just seen was a hallucination, but the man was definitely standing there before they all barged back into my room. I begin to wonder if I also might have a fever that could affect the other parts of my brain. The intensifying feeling of anxiety spreads throughout my veins.

  ‘Ania, I won't shout at you right now but can you imagine what I was going through?’

  I knew that sooner or later my mother would start this awkward conversation. I sigh and look at her. I was hoping that she might just let me rest but she is going to tell me off.

  ‘Well... I am sorry. It's not as if I planned to get stabbed, Mum.’ I say, not able to let go of sarcasm, ‘I am really tired, Mum. Just let me rest and we can talk about this later.’

  ‘I know that you have to rest, I am a nurse for heaven's sake, but I don't think that you should stay in Swansea,’ she says folding her arms together, the mad glimpse starts dancing in her eyes, ‘I will speak to Brighton University to see if they can transfer you.’

  ‘No!’ I shout and my heart starts racing. ‘I am not moving!’

  I’m shaking, ready to have a long argument, but she looks worried. The pain in my forehead is sharp and makes me feel dizzy.

  ‘Calm down, you are not supposed to stress.’

  ‘Then don't try to change my life. I am a grown woman,’ I add through gritted teeth. She shifts her expression realising that this conversation is making me agitated. ‘I can take care of myself.’

  ‘You are right, we can talk about this later,’ she agrees.

  Fortunately for me, the nurse comes in and my mother instantly stops talking, as she hates arguing in front of other people. I am hoping that Mum will leave soon so I can get some rest and finally release this overwhelming tension. My body needs a long sleep and when the nurse underlines that visiting hours are over, I want to hug her. Mum isn't pleased, but she has to go back to London today. She has a twelve-hour shift tomorrow ahead of her but she assures me that when she sorts her annual leave she will be back shortly. She leav
es the room, talking to herself in furious Russian.

  I know that I might have scared her almost to death, but I am still alive. I am still trying to remember the man that attacked me. He couldn't have done it for money, as I didn't even have any cash on me. Perhaps he just decided to stab the first person that came along, for fun. I can't remember his face.

  I am sure that I was hallucinating earlier about the odd individual in my room. He looked too perfect. I only saw him for a few minutes but I am certain that my mind is playing tricks on me. I didn't even ask how long I was unconscious for; I am hoping that I won't have any more delusions. I can take a few weeks in the hospital but mental health problems are a different issue altogether. Before I start thinking about the enigmatic man I close my eyes and drift into a dreams.

  The tearing pain in my stomach wakes me up late in the night. The clock on the wall is showing a few minutes past 2 am. The lower part of my body feels as though someone is tearing apart every inch of my skin, the excruciating sharp pulsing pain is penetrating my stomach. It's unbearable and I need to call for a nurse. I try to move a little but I am only making it worse. My room is separate, probably far from other wards, and I am alone. In the darkness, I try to find the switch to call for help but I am not sure where or which button to press. I look around the room, and I gasp in fear because I realise that I am not alone.

  I see a tall figure by the window and my heart is in my throat. The searing pain slowly blinds me. My subconscious is telling me to scream; the shock mutes my words. I start sweating and shivering feverishly. I am in agony but my half-open eyes are gazing at the tall figure in the corner. I tell myself that he is only in my imagination and in few seconds, the room will be empty. I close my eyes and start counting ignoring the pain, in a moment I am going to be alone again.

  Then I open my eyes, the man is standing just beside me. I part my lips ready to scream but my voice dies in my throat. In the darkness, the odd man looks real and if I had all my strength, I could reach out my hand and touch him. He places his palm on my forehead; his touch is warm and hypnotising. The pain slowly drifts out of my body and after a few seconds, I am dreaming about his thrilling azure eyes.