Читать книгу My Ice Prince - Анна Морион - Страница 6

– What's wrong? You're just like on fire! Who was that? – Mary asked, barely had I entered the kitchen after kicking that ignorant Haraldson out.

«An ill-mannered brute! A lover of reading other people's letters and running over girls on the road! It's a good thing Maria warned me about him, otherwise, who knows, maybe I could have been fooled by this impudent man's appearance and actions, and mistaken him for a normal vampire who might even have some advice for me!» – I thought angrily.

– That was the guy who hit me and crumpled your bike! – I answered Mary. – «And my parents also forbade me to talk to him, they said 'not a word, not half a word.

«Why am I telling her such personal things?» – I thought to myself, but in my heart I wanted to talk to Mary about what a bastard Haraldson was. I wanted to sling mud at him from his gorgeous hair to the soles of his shoes.

– And he's handsome, I'd say he's very handsome, but his white skin spoils the whole impression-» Mary trailed off, because I gave her a stern look. – I made you a bath like you asked.

He was handsome, but no more handsome than my brothers-I'd always liked blondes, and his very pale skin, dark hair, and bright, almost blue eyes made him look as cold and aloof as an iceberg. He was a Viking, the perfect Nordic type. Ha! And Mary thought he was handsome, but not very handsome!

– Something I do not understand: your parents forbade you to communicate with him … And what are the reasons?

– I don't know. I have no idea! – I answered honestly.

– Then why do you think he's a scoundrel? You know absolutely nothing about him, don't you? – Mary asked.

I didn't know who or what he was, my family had told me nothing about him, and I had already set myself against him. Although, no, I knew for a fact that he had hit me and dented my bike. And he didn't even apologize!

– Do you think I'm wrong? – I asked: Mary's thoughts were surprisingly sober, breaking down my prejudice against this vampire, but I clung to my beliefs with every fiber of my being. I wanted to cling to them because it made me feel better to think he was to blame, not me.

– Did you two ever talk? – Mary asked.

– No» I answered quietly.

– Well, look what happens: you don't know anything about each other, and you've never talked to each other, but your parents told you to ignore him … Did they say why you should? Did they say he was bad or maybe a bully?

– No, nothing like that. They didn't explain anything to me at all, they just told me absolutely not to. But aren't there enough reasons for that? It is not necessary that all those with whom we are forbidden to socialize, must be bullies! – I objected.

«But she's right: how do I know he's a rascal? Maybe he didn't do anything wrong at all. Yes, he hit me, but even then you have to be objective: it was my fault for the accident – I didn't want to ride on the bike path myself. And when he came over today, I yelled at him and started blaming him. Why? Why? Because I found out he was the vampire I was forbidden to even talk to? – I wondered. – How weird and stupid was that? And he had a right to think I was hysterical, like Cedric had been… No, I shouldn't make excuses for him: he'd read my letter! He opened the envelope with my name written in black and white and read it. He didn't dare do that! It's not his personal item, it's mine!»

– You're only mad at him because the psychologically heavy word «ban» was said about him. Very silly, in my opinion» Mary said confidently.

I immediately wanted to tell her that he had read my letter and had no right to do so, but I gave up the idea: Mary had, with a few sentences, reduced my anger at Frederik.

«Okay. I really don't know anything about him, and I have no reason to think he's a scoundrel, much less to hate him. When he does something mean to me, then I'll hate him. I'll have the right» I decided. – Right now, it was pointless and ridiculous to hate him just because I'd been told to. Mary was right: the word «forbidden» always becomes a psychological factor in unconscious dislike. And he's right, as is Cedric: I'm acting like a child, and I thought I'd outgrown that role. I must have been flattering myself, intoxicated by the mere step of getting into Oxford… And in fact, my reasoning and actions remained childish and naive!»

These thoughts suffocated me, and I again acted like a child and did what I had long dreamed of doing: I locked myself in the bathroom and cried there until Mary asked me to come in.

When morning came, I looked outside and saw my bent blue bicycle.

«Riding to college on that handicapped thing? No! I'd rather walk!» – I thought grudgingly.

I washed my face, did my morning jog, took a quick shower, dried my hair, put on my uniform, put my hair in a high ponytail, grabbed my bag, put on my shoes, and quietly left the house so as not to wake up my roommate: she slept late again after watching movies all night and didn't get to bed until three in the morning.

Walking down to my bike, I stopped. I was sad: the bike was disgusting and sad, and the back wheel was bent so badly that I wondered how I had made it home yesterday. I thought about buying a new bike, but it was very early, the stores weren't open yet, and I didn't know any of the places that sold bikes. I even got angry at myself for my thoughtlessness, because I could have easily fixed the blue invalid, and I should have done it yesterday or at night, instead of sitting in my room and crying! But there was nothing to do, it was a long walk, so with a sigh I got on my bicycle and rode to the college. I was terribly ashamed to ride my bike, but I comforted myself with the thought that after the lectures I would give it to the repair shop. When I got to the college, I leaned the bike against the fence, put a lock on it (though hardly anyone would be tempted by it in its condition), and went to meet Ellie.

She was already waiting for me.

– You're here already? I'm sorry I'm late: I'm having trouble with my bike» I apologized as I approached her.

Ellie was a very pretty girl: long, thick, dark hair, high forehead, beautiful gray eyes, she was very friendly, and it was nice to be in her company.

We entered the college, gave our coats to the checkroom, put on our robes and caps, and went to find the right classrooms.

– Did you sign up for any classes? – Ellie asked me.

– No. Do I have to? – I was surprised.

– No one's forcing anyone» she smiled. – It's just that there are a lot of clubs at college, and a lot of sports teams and sections for different sports. What are you into, for example?

I wondered: can playing snowballs be considered a sport?

– I like a lot of things, but now I can't choose something specific, – I honestly admitted. – I can, though: I like to play badminton.

– You see, you can sign up there. And you don't have to choose one thing – you can be in twenty clubs at the same time. I signed up for theater, music, church singing, reading, and more. I'll have to look at the schedules for all of them» Ellie told me.

– Music class? Do you play an instrument? – I asked.

– Yes, the saxophone.

– Wow, that's great. I don't know how to play anything… But my brother always says I'm a master of playing on nerves.

«Everyone here is incredibly talented! And I can't even play anything! Nerves don't count!» – I thought with annoyance.

– Well, I'll think about it at my leisure, and I'll definitely sign up for a club» I promised Ellie.

We parted and went to our classrooms.

When I walked in, I felt awkward as many students immediately turned their heads toward me. The attention made me nervous and I sat almost in the front row.

It was the first lecture of my life, and I was excited and happy at the same time: I was sitting in an Oxford auditorium! There were a hundred people around me, though, and it was disconcerting: I knew very little about people and college classes, having only seen them in movies and TV shows.

I could feel someone's eyes on me the whole time, but I didn't try to find out who it was: I thought that if I fidgeted, I would look frivolous and stupid. I was already very awkward: at recess, many guys would not take their eyes off me and ask me how I was doing. At those moments, I wished I was invisible.

As the classes came to an end, I was so mentally exhausted that I wanted to get away from the college as soon as possible. I took off my robe and cap, put on my coat, and walked briskly towards my bike.

– Sweet blondie, wait a minute! – I suddenly heard behind my back.

I turned around and saw that a guy was coming toward me. I was confused, but I thought that maybe he wanted to ask me about my schedule or to give me something, otherwise he wouldn't be late.

I immediately realized that I was dealing with a Playboy: expensive, carefully selected ironed suit, expensive, leather, rubbed to a shine shoes, expensive black coat. All of this was accompanied by an obnoxious, sugary-sweet smile and gel-smooth hair.

– Hi. – He held out his hand to me.

– Hi. – I wanted to shake his hand, but he intercepted my palm and brought it to his lips. I pulled it away.

– I'm sorry, I couldn't resist: you're so damn beautiful» the Playboy said with a flattering smile as he looked me over.

I felt like he was just groping me with that stare-it was unpleasant and damnably insolent, and I wanted to leave.

– What did you want? – I asked him directly.

– To know your name, beautiful. You ran off so fast and didn't even leave your precious slipper.

«Oh, that's it… He's trying to hit on me» I thought tiredly.

It was funny: I smiled involuntarily at his vulgar compliment, and he must have mistaken my mockery for a smile of gratitude, because he immediately brightened up.

– It would be weird if I walked around in the same shoe. And anyway, my shoes are very expensive, more expensive than yours, so I don't throw them around» I told him wryly. – Stupid idea, don't even try!

Bypassing the Playboy, I continued on my way to my bike, but I heard the guy mutter to himself under his nose: «We'll see about that, sweetheart»

The nasty conversation with this Playboy, who probably thought he was a god, made me feel as disgusted as if a bucket of mud had been poured on me.

I walked out to the alley where I had left my bike and suddenly saw last night's guest, Frederik Haraldson, fiddling with my bike.

«What does he want?» – I thought grudgingly, quickening my step.

As I approached the vampire, I was displeased to find that he was removing the «super-secure» lock from my bike, as Mary and I had been assured by the police.

Haraldson raised a cold stare at me.

– Don't get hysterical. I just want to compensate you for yesterday's damage» he said sternly.

His words hurt me: what made him think I would scream?

– I wasn't. – The resentment was eating at me. – Let me ask you what you're doing with my bike`?

***

Misha gave me a frown.

– I bought you a new one» I answered, unlocking the bike, standing up and looking down at the girl: she was tall enough, but her top barely reached my shoulders. Misha 's left shoulder was slightly raised.

«There she goes again, combing her hair like that. Doesn't she hate walking around like this?» – I thought, glancing at her ugly hair.

– But I didn't ask you to do anything» she said absently. – And I certainly didn't ask you to take the lock off my bike. The police gave it to me because it's very secure.

– Even a first-grader could open that lock» I grinned mockingly and handed her the damn lock.

I wanted to switch bikes while the owner was at college, but I guess I didn't have the time. Thankfully, the weather was nice. For me.

– I'll fix this bike, but I bought you a new one anyway» I said, looking at Misha 's frowning but handsome face.

– And where is it? – She asked. Her eyebrows went up.

– There. – I pointed to my car, where her new bicycle was leaned against it.

The young vampire glanced at it, and her face took on a mocking expression.

– Pink? Are you laughing? – She asked mockingly, but then her voice filled with resentment. – I'm already considered to be a dumb blonde, and you bought me a pink bike?

– I didn't think you'd feel that way about it. Honestly. There were only pink, green, and black colors in the store» I tried to explain my choice honestly.

– «You should have taken the black one. Even it's better than…this one. – Her voice trembled.

Misha looked longingly at the pink bike. The girl's face was as sour as if she had eaten a whole basket of lemons.

– What difference does it make what color the bike is? – I was sincerely surprised: Misha 's reaction was incomprehensible to me.

I told the truth: I had chosen the pink two-wheeled horse without any mockery or backward thought, but I just thought that since Misha was still very young (for a vampire's age), the pink color would be to her liking. After all, she had blue colored nails.

– Big. I don't like pink: it's frivolous» the girl replied sullenly.

– Put your shoulder down» I said.

– What?» She gave me a surprised look.

– You always lift your left shoulder. – I touched her raised shoulder and pressed it gently; it returned to its normal position.

– I didn't realize I was doing that» Misha said thoughtfully.

I was surprised by her calmness: it turned out that she still knew how to talk normally, without hysterics and without raising her voice, but before her behavior claimed the opposite.

– I know why: I like to lie on my left side when I surf the Internet» she said suddenly, and then looked at the pink bicycle again. – If that's the case, I'll take this disgusting pink thing to match your opinion and the opinion of others, but I won't ride it, I'll give it to Mary. You'll fix up my blue one for me. Deal?

I grinned: how stubborn!

– Okay, then wait for him tonight» I said, pleasantly surprised by her calm demeanor. – You lifted your shoulder again. Keep an eye on it. You know, you're not like yourself today: too calm.

The girl looked at me resentfully.

– You think I can only yell? Well keep thinking, I don't care at all.

Misha came to the pink bicycle, rolled it to the side of the road, sat down and left, and I looked at her with surprise: she rode slowly, very smoothly, beautifully, and her hair tied in a long ponytail fluttered in the wind. At that moment she seemed to me very fragile.

«I should have known how old she was» I realized.

After watching the girl disappear around the nearest corner, I tied the blue bicycle to the roof of my Mustang with a rope and drove home to get it repaired. I kept my promise: I smoothed out the warped iron, replaced the bent wheel with a new one, tightened all the bolts, which were already considerably loose, and wondered how Misha could ride this half-decayed piece of iron. In the evening I brought the bike to her house, but it wasn't Misha who took it, but her girlfriend, who was once again in homemade clothes, and now I was finally convinced that this mortal lived with the young vampire under the same roof. Misha herself not only didn't come out to me, she didn't say a word.

After that day, we didn't see each other for over a month.

I didn't want to impose my society on Misha, because I understood perfectly well that she was determined against me and communication with me. Well, one problem less.

***

An exciting, painful October had passed, and a surprisingly mild, sunny November had arrived, which was a great surprise for Oxford: I loved the sunshine, but I knew that the English weather was rather monotonous and rainy.

I had been living with Mary for over a month now, away from my parents: in the intervening time I had received a few more «humanitarian aid» from them, still eating the same meals at night, in the darkness of the kitchen, while Mary slept. One time she took me by surprise, but fortunately not for another blood draw: I was bored in the middle of the night and went into the kitchen to read Chateaubriand, when a sleepy Mary appeared before me. She was very surprised that I was reading in the dark, but I found myself saying that I had terrible insomnia and that the lantern light was good for reading. Mary yawned and went to bed.

As for the tomatoes and cucumbers, I would buy them and, under the guise of eating them, give them to the homeless shelter while Mary was at work. This system of innocent deception worked like clockwork, and my neighbor was satisfied that I wasn't starving.

The big man with the slicked-back hair kept pestering me with vanilla phrases and florid compliments, boasting of his family lineage (he said he was a distant relative of the royal family), but I only pushed him away with a sneer: he annoyed me, thinking I would fall at his feet, falling madly in love with him. He was a tedious type – self-righteous and narcissistic.

Everything was smooth in my studies: having met the tutors, I found strong support, and I was interested in doing their assignments. I enjoyed studying. I even enrolled in a theology class, but it didn't go any further than that. I was offered to join a sports team, but I wasn't ready for that, and I couldn't risk people's lives: the first time I played squash with Ellie, I almost broke her nose because I hit the ball so hard, and when Mary and I played badminton in the park, she kept complaining that I hit it too far, like a man. But I couldn't do it any other way: I didn't know how to control my physical strength.

It was a bright, sunny, almost cloudless day, and Mary and I went to the park to feed the swans swimming in the Thames, taking a large blanket with us to bask in the sun. After feeding the swans, we went out to the middle of the lawn, spread out the blanket, lay on it, and looked up at the sky, squinting at the sunlight. I had never felt so good as I did now: I was lying in the sun, next to my friend, we were silent and just enjoying this moment. I wanted so badly to feel the warmth of the sun and bask under it, but I could only watch it shining high in the sky. I was sad at the thought that in twenty years I would have to hide from the sweet sun, and that I would never be able to lay like that again and look at it.

«Will it really be like this? Will I turn into a monster like my mom and sisters?» – I thought wistfully.

But it was all so far away and unreal that I just couldn't believe that the day would come when I would hate the sun and it would hate me.

– Sometimes I think you're not of this world, that you're not human» Mary said suddenly.

I opened my eyes and sat up, surprised by her words.

«Does she really know that I'm a vampire?» – I thought with horror, but I smiled falsely and asked cheerfully: – Why do you think that?

Mary sat up too.

– You seem to glow from within: you are beautiful not only outwardly, but you also have a beautiful soul. I don't know how to talk about these things: I need to use metaphors, and I'm not good with them» she said, looking at me. – I knew from the first time I saw you that you were a good person. Period.

I hesitated, not knowing how to respond to her statement, and not knowing what to say to her.

It is very difficult to find words when you are undeservedly praised: such praise is disconcerting.

I couldn't find the words. I didn't say a word.

– Well? Have you thought about it? – Mary asked.

– About what? – I didn't understand.

– About the haircut.

I smiled involuntarily: she'd remembered little things I'd never even considered.

– No, I hadn't. I never cut my hair.

– It's a shame, of course, but on the other hand, it's just fine.

The contradiction in Mary's words amused me.

– How so? – I grinned. – I don't know what you mean!

– I love doing hairstyles and learning to do new ones, so if you don't want to cut your hair, you can be my guinea pig. There's a reason you grew that ponytail» she said.

– That's great! Why didn't you tell me this before? You have no idea how tired I am of ponytails and knots on the back of my head! – I exclaimed. – Well, go ahead, show your skills.

– Right now?

– Are you afraid?

– No way! Release your horrible ponytail!

I pulled the rubber band off my hair, and it fell down my back.

– Well, you're in trouble! – Mary said seriously, sitting down behind me and combing my hair with her fingers. – If it hurts, feel free to scream.

– Okay. – Thankfully, I didn't feel any pain.

I was a perfect mannequin, but it felt good to know that Mary saw more than just my appearance. Mary was a magician who saw things that other people didn't. And I had never thought of myself as having a beautiful soul.

Mary braided my hair, and I felt the pleasure of her fingers touching my head, and closed my eyes.

– Your hair is a godsend for a hairdresser» Mary said. – But unfortunately, I'm not a professional. You know, it's really beautiful, though, it's so thick… Can I ask you something?

– What? – I asked.

– If you don't know how to do your hair or braid it, then you should walk around with it loose, but don't do that stupid, ugly ponytail. Phew! I've been meaning to tell you this for a long time! I haven't had the courage.

– You don't like my ponytail?

– That's gross! I was tempted to cut all your hair bands! – Mary said and pulled one of my strands hard. – Oh, I'm sorry… Does it hurt?

– It's okay, it's bearable. And since you're so concerned about my hair, I'm making you, Mary Smith, my personal hairdresser: from now on, my hair is your responsibility.

– Good, at least you'll be human!

«I'll be human. No, Mary, that's impossible! Alas» went through my mind.

– By the way, there's a bunch of Playboys to our right» Mary said quietly, almost in my ear. – And one of them is staring at you. Look, but don't let him see you.

– You're a spy» I grinned, but pretended to shake off the right sleeve of my coat and cast a glance at the company next to me.

«There's that flatterer again!» – I thought with a chuckle when I saw among the girls and guys the very same Playboy.

– I know this guy: he's been hitting on me since the beginning of the school year» I said quietly to my friend, and she laughed mockingly. – He's always talking such nonsense!

– I don't like him either: he's kind of slick. And his hair is awful. The guy who hit you by a car is much handsomer, and his hair is marvelous. I've never seen such great hair on a guy. And his hairstyle is cool, and that slick guy's hair looks like it's greased up» Mary said.

I'd forgotten all about Frederik Haraldson. Luckily, he was very unobtrusive.

– By the way, what's the name of the guy? – Mary asked.

– What guy?

– The one who hit you by a car. That's it! The masterpiece is over!

Mary clapped her hands, and I ran my palm through my hair and found that it was now in an oddly braided braid.

– Mary, you're a talent! – I admired you sincerely.

– And let me make you another hairstyle? Would you like to? – Mary asked, immediately grasping my hair.

I didn't want to interrupt her euphoria.

– Come on, I'm curious» I replied.

She started to unravel my braid.

– What's his name?

– Why do you want to know?

– Maybe I like him, okay?

– Is it that serious? – I played along with my friend.

– No, of course not: I've been hopelessly in love with Andrew for a long time.

– Then why did you break up?! – I asked, startled by the news.

– I was a fool, and I didn't like the fact that he was so clever, and I was just a dummy next to him» Mary said.

– But that's a good thing: he's older and wiser, he can teach you a lot, and if he dated you, he didn't care about the difference in your education. Isn't that right? – I suggested with a laugh.

– Why are you laughing? – Mary asked, laughing too.

– I just think you're terribly contradictory!

– I am not!

– I am.

– No, I'm not!

– Okay, I'll shut up! – I grinned.

She was a pleasure to fool around with: Mary was always easy to wind up. And so was I.

She sighed and began to braid a new braid for me.

– What's his name?

– Oh, God, Mary! You're doing it again, aren't you?

– Yeah, and I'm not getting off on you.

– His name is Frederik Haraldson! – I finally gave in.

– I think he has a Scandinavian surname. Don't you think? – Mary remarked.

– I don't know, I never thought about it.

– So you think I should call him?

– Why would you call Frederik? – I wondered.

– What does that Swede have to do with it? – She grumbled unhappily.

– What makes you think he's Swedish?

– I don't know but let him be Swedish. I was talking about Andrew!

– Then what's Frederik got to do with it?

– Who's Frederik?!

– You started it! – I reminded you with a laugh. – You were trying so hard to find out his name.

– To hell with him!

– Then why did you ask?

– I don't know, I was just curious. Okay, can we be serious? – Mary sounded annoyed.

– Seriously, call your Andrew.

– I mean, let's say. What am I gonna tell him?

– Ask him out. – I started thinking of all the things I'd seen in the movies.

– Out? Are you crazy? No, I'm not gonna ask him out! And I'm not calling him either» Mary said in a firm tone.

– Then why are you asking my advice if you've already made up your mind? – I laughed involuntarily.

– Because you're my friend, and I want your opinion! – Mary pulled my hair. – Stop laughing already! Do you think it's funny? It's not!

– If you have any more questions or advice about relationships, I'll warn you right away: I'm a total zero in this area! – I warned honestly.

– You'll be nineteen in a month, and you haven't dated anyone yet? – Mary exclaimed. – You're a spinster!

***

«So she is nineteen! Just as I suspected. Of course, she's still very naive and stupid!» – I was astonished. I felt ashamed that not so long ago thoughts of admiration for her had been running through my mind. What the hell! She's so stupid! A green currant! She's nineteen!

Misha called me by name for the first time, but for some reason «Frederik», with an «e», but without the previously obligatory clarification «Haraldson». And what did she say about the difference in age and intellectual level? Magical. But not so much: she was very young and untrained for life – it was obvious from her stupid behavior. Misha was deeply mistaken: an intelligent person could not long endure the stupidity of another, no matter how strong their feelings were. Unfortunately, the stupidity of one always suppresses the wisdom of the other.

Misha and Mary were talking about such nonsense as only naive young girls who know nothing about real life or the world around them talk about.

The distance between me and the two chatterboxes was too great for Misha, with her childish eyesight, to see my hiding place from where I was watching them: people's hearing and eyesight deteriorate with age, but ours, on the contrary, only become more acute, and I was still a very young vampire. I pretended to read, but I was actually listening to the conversation between the two girlfriends, and when Misha let her beautiful hair down, I slammed the book shut and admired her. Admiring her, and she was nineteen. She would be in a month. I shouldn't have thought of her at all, except as a silly girl who needed my help. Strangely, when I didn't know how old she was, I couldn't even believe she was that young. And now that I knew she wasn't even fifty… No, not even thirty, I was confused, but felt nothing but annoyance at her behavior and, inexplicably, a friendly disposition.

«She's all alone here. And how did the Mroczeks think to let her out of the house? To let her go alone, in human society, at that age! Where were they looking? Who's going to teach her about life? Where is she going with this mortal? Why wasn't it explained to her that it was forbidden to be friends with mortals? This damsel is behaving in a fundamentally wrong way!» – I thought unhappily as I watched the two girls.

Now I definitely didn't want to have any relationship with her. Consciously. So I stopped listening to the conversation of the girls and wanted to leave. But something was holding me back.

«Why is she doing all this? Living with a mortal, walking in the park, sunbathing in the sun, talking about nonsense! – I continued to ponder. – He behaves like a human being, even though Maria’s letter says in black and white: 'Don't socialize with people'! But Misha ignores all the rules, except one: «Do not communicate with Fredrik Haraldson»

I was overcome with contradictory feelings: on the one hand, I had a low opinion of Misha, but at the same time, I felt sorry for her. For some reason, I was very worried about her future: she was too human, and that quality is unnatural for a vampire and goes against all vampire laws.

«All this is the influence of her mortal girlfriend: living with Misha, she surrounded her with a human aura, a human world, habits, everyday life. It is urgent to explain to the Polish fool that her actions and such a life are unnatural, and that her friendship with a mortal will turn into rivers of tears for her, although it has already resulted in her completely non-vampiric behavior» I decided firmly. – The fact that she's a vampire and drinks human blood seems to have slipped her mind.

I watched the girls until they rolled up the blanket and went away, but I continued to sit under the huge tree: I had bad luck with the weather. And why was I sitting there listening to the silly girls like an ordered spy? I had nothing of the sort in my plans: I was walking from college, taking advantage of the fact that the sun was hidden behind a white cloud for a minute, but I saw Misha and, not knowing why or why not, sat under the tree.

Since the two girlfriends had left the park, I had sat under the tree for another three hours, unable to leave my prison of fresh air. I cracked open a book and tried to read, but my attention span was non-existent. I wanted to smoke, but smoking in public places was strictly forbidden. Everyone was against me.

«Shit. I'm so screwed!» – I thought with annoyance.

My car was far away in the parking lot, and I couldn't get to it because of the goddamn bright sun, so I sat under a tree until sunset (fortunately, it was early in November) and only then was able to drive home.

And this Mary, without knowing it, got it right – I am Swede with a typical Swedish dream: a lakeside house in Scandinavia, and the Swedish national anthem as a ringtone on my phone. A typical Swede, different from other Swedes only in the fact that I have fangs and a need to drink liters of human blood.