About love
It was a happy childhood. Two houses surrounded by flowers and greenery, many friends and girlfriends, games until dark. She had a best friend—a fair-haired, long-legged boy.
There were no particular signs of distinction between boys and girls, but time passed, and by the age of 18, the differences became more pronounced, though the late-blooming boys didn't pay much attention to this fact.
Like a bolt from the blue, on a sunny day on their favorite lawn, suddenly her "best" girlfriend hugged him with tears and simply kissed him on the cheek. For the boy, this was stronger than a lightning strike and a bolt from the blue.
— We're leaving. Forever. And we haven't even kissed yet.
The boy
jumped up and simply ran down the path, carried away to who knows where by such a shock.— Why do adults never ask their children if they want to move somewhere? It's so unfair.
An entirely unfamiliar feeling of irretrievable loss tormented his young soul. He already understood that you couldn't run away from this, even if you moved your legs very fast.
The next day, they met again and didn't know what to do. They walked along the path in silence. They came to a familiar bench surrounded by lilacs. They sat down.
— Close your eyes, — the girl said, — cup your hand.
— How do I do that? — he opened his eyes and saw her small, white breast from her unbuttoned dress. He pulled out his T-shirt and looked at his own chest, noticing the difference.
— Touch it! — the girlfriend continued. He reached with his palm and felt her cool, soft body.
— Now kiss me on the lips! Kiss me, we'll never meet again! I love you!
The next morning, their torment began. His heart started to ache, she burst into tears in the departing car.
The first letter arrived. Full of little hearts and dried tear stains on the paper. The parents on both sides decided it was temporary and calmed down.
A year later, she came back, they met, she had become a beautiful young woman. He was very shy because he had grown unaccustomed to her. She left two days later. Both their lips burned from the kisses.
The correspondence continued. Only the secrecy increased.
* * *
Her husband accidentally found out that there was a boy at her school who used to carry her school backpack.
The interrogation lasted all night.
He sat with his back to her in the chair at his desk. She only looked at his shaved neck.
— You'd better stay silent. I know how to extract the truth.
* * *
The passport was under the rug in the hallway; only its cover was in his safe. Quite by chance, she had the passport when drawing up a power of attorney at the lawyer's office. She kept the passport, and he put the thick cover in his own bulky wallet. He never gave her money; there was a card. Groceries were delivered.
Everything happened spontaneously and quickly. She turned the handle of the front door. For the first time ever, he had forgotten to lock it. Every second counted.
She glanced at the icon, said to herself
— Lord, help me… and then she kept hearing these two words all the time, like two bell strikes. Running down the cold steps, out into the street in her nightgown.
— Lord, help me… she went out onto the road and walked along the roadside through snowdrifts covered with an icy crust.
— Lord, help me… she couldn't feel her legs anymore, but she kept walking forward…
A car stopped.
— I recognized you, what happened? — she burst into tears, her bleeding feet on the rubber mat, shaking from cold and distress.
— He said he wouldn't touch me, that I'd do it myself…
— Going to your grandma's in Mikhaylovka?
— Yes, — she answered, sobbing.
* * *
I knew it would end like this… — the elderly woman said, hugging her trembling granddaughter…
She forced some bill into the driver's hand and took her home.
Her feet were rubbed with alcohol and wrapped in wool. Hot tea. She fell into a deep sleep.
— Thank God, she's alive…
Dressed somehow, in whatever rags she found in the closets, with a shopping bag, she went out to the highway. A local PAZ bus pulled up, people packed in tightly. The freezing bus filled with the steam of passengers' breath. She relaxed and fell asleep…
— Where are you going? — To the station, — Well, you missed it. She started to cry…
— What are you staring at, the woman is going to a funeral, give her a lift to the platform, it's right there, the train is coming soon…
The driver managed to even overtake the train, and she ran and jumped into the closing doors.
From the conversation, she learned that they were looking for some girl and checking passports. The conductor came, she paid for the ticket. She rummaged in her bag, found an old square mirror—an exhausted face looked back at her.
— They're looking for a girl, — she said sadly to herself.
* * *
Suddenly, she heard her name being called:
— Ma'am, a letter for you has been lying here for a very long time, I didn't send it back.
A familiar handwriting, tears flowed, but she gathered her courage and read it to the end; at the end, an address and phone number. She asked to make a call. They allowed it, but quickly. He recognized her voice.
— I'll come pick you up now.
* * *
Of course, clouds began to gather over the husband: his first common-law wife hanged herself right in the hallway, leaving a note with just three words addressed to everyone.
Now his first official wife had run away in the frost, through the snow with an icy crust. Her bloody footprints were still visible.
He honestly and principledly, with his tediousness, sucked the blood from his defenseless women. Bad rumors started.
* * *
Over the dacha settlement, a winter lightning bolt struck for the first time in these parts. Flames with black smoke flared up. All the fire trucks stalled literally fifty meters from the "cursed house"; the fire was visible for a kilometer around, something exploded inside, then incredibly black smoke rose, and suddenly everything stopped…
The firefighters crossed themselves and drove back. It had burned down.
Just as they started moving, the air was shaken by an explosion of incredible force. They crossed themselves once more and raced back to the fire station. The "accursed place" had claimed another victim.