The Unnamed Violin

17. Dream of Christmas

I dreamed of Christmas – a holiday that all children love so much. At Christmas, they get presents, at Christmas all wishes come true.

I stood in front of a fluffy fir tree, putting sparkling toys on its spreading branches. The tree was so big that I, seven-year-old Victor, couldn’t even reach its top half – the top went up, and there was neither a shining angel nor the Star of Bethlehem on it.

I knew what to do, I dragged a stool nearby and climbed onto it. The whole world became tenfold smaller, and the top of the tree was now within reach. I felt like an adult: I was a tall and brave prince who was about to save the princess locked in a very tall tower …

But instead of a princess, I only had a tall Christmas tree and a box of toys, and that didn’t bother me. What about the creative power of mind and the play of imagination?

I was reaching for the top with all my might, standing on my tiptoes, but it was still far away. I held the star and tilted the tree towards myself, trying to touch the top branch …

“Victor, come get your lunch,” a voice sounded very close, but I, like all children who are too busy playing, decided to pretend that I didn’t hear.

Not a chance – I have the greatest mission, and it is up to me to save the princess. How can I tear myself away from such an important matter for some kind of lunch?

I pretended not to notice my mom’s call – and it was definitely her – and continued to reach for the top, trying to put the star on the tree. I was stubborn, but the tree had a temper too.

The quiet steps stopped behind me, and I knew that now Mom was watching me, and I especially shouldn’t screw up. I tried my best, I stood at attention, and grabbing the tree by the branch, I pulled it towards me. When the toy took its place on the highest part of the tree, I smiled with satisfaction, looking back, turning around at the stool.

Her dark eyes were warm, and she smiled at me. She was young and beautiful, and for some reason it seemed to me that she was the princess I had just saved. I really wanted her to praise me, and I silently pointed to the decorated tree behind me, inviting her to examine the results of my efforts.

“My dear, how beautiful. But don’t pretend you didn’t hear me calling you.”

She didn’t speak to me sternly – she smiled, but for some reason I felt ashamed.

I lowered my head and sighed, stepping down from my stool. When I looked at her again, she was already walking around me to the tree. Her fingers touched the glass Christmas toy on the branch, and she was looking at me.

“We’re having guests tonight,” she said, fluttering her long dark eyelashes.

“Guests?” I asked, surprised.

We haven’t had any guests for a long time, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t remember who might come to visit us.

“Yes,” Mom agreed, and her gaze ran over my face. “If you don’t want to have lunch, go change.”

I didn’t want to leave the tree – I enjoyed sorting through the colorful decorations in the cardboard box, and besides, I wasn’t finished yet …

Making a pleading expression, I whined, “Mo-o-om, please …”

Somehow I knew it would work, and she ruffled my hair. Her touch sent shivers down my spine. It felt so good that I sighed in disappointment when she pulled her hand away.

“Okay, Victor, but not for long,” and she smiled and left.

…I walk into the living room – I was sure of the direction – and I hear voices. I have a niggle of curiosity: what kind of guests might we have for Christmas? I walk along the corridor in anticipation of the holiday, and the light from the illuminated room through the doorway seems warm and cozy.

I entered. A large hall, filled with candlelight, a grand piano standing to the left, interior items not from the modern era … For some reason I know for sure that in the study of my father, a musician and architect, there are even more curious things, sheet music.

She stands before me, but we are the only two in the room. I move closer, hesitant, and the candle flames cast shadows like black tentacles crawling along the walls. She looks at me.

But now I am not looking up at her: now I am tall and grown up – like a real prince – and her beautiful face is turned towards me. I hold my breath. It seems to me that if I do something wrong, my illusion will dissipate into smoke, crumble to dust, and I only lightly take another step towards her.

My heart is pounding in my throat, my palms are sweating, and I clench my fists – she is so close and yet so far away. I want to ask, ‘Mom, where are our guests?’, but I realize that I don’t care about them anymore.

We don’t need guests – we are good together. We will decorate the tree together every Christmas, and I will give her presents, and she will do the same … I want her to stroke my head again, like then, but I don’t dare ask … I am still afraid that she will leave.

“Victor,” she whispers, a dreamy smile lighting up her young face as her dark eyes look at me.

I see my own reflection in her wide-open eyes, I see myself, but for a moment it seems to me that it is not me at the same time.

I reach out to her, and in a second my hands are on her shoulders. I feel the warmth of her body, and I know she is real, she is not going anywhere …

A cold hand touched my cheek, a pleasant warmth spread through my body, descending as a pulling heat into my groin. I press my lips to her fingers and breathe quickly.

I push away the ghost of a feeling that this is wrong. Cold fingers touch the back of my head, my blood boils, I lick my lips and swallow the saliva that fills my mouth. A small tremor of impatience, a dizziness that brings a strange delight …

She pulls me towards her, and I lean in obediently, squeezing her shoulders tightly. I don’t understand what’s happening, and it seems like there’s no one else in the world – just me and her. The desire becomes so unbearable that only then do I realize: I want to sink my lips into her mouth, I want to become a part of her …

I gasp in a final attempt to resist, but I can’t tear my hands away from her shoulders. She runs her fingers through the hair at the back of my head, the electricity running through my body sparking across my palms.

Obsession. She pulls my head back, but then draws me closer to her …

“Victor,” she whispers again, almost demandingly, invitingly, putting the name in my mouth, and I catch her lips with mine.

And there is no one in the world except us, and there is nothing except us, and I surrender myself into her arms, and I become submissive, like a lamb, like an affectionate cat … I can’t breathe, I’m suffocating, but I can’t tear myself away from her – I want her, and she will be mine.

I am spinning in a whirlpool of frenzy, and the fire in my blood is one for both of us, and I can barely hold back a moan, and this bittersweet torment drives me crazy. I can’t stop.

Having finally woken up, I realized that I had come in my sleep. What the—

With my nose buried in the sheets, turned over on my side, I continued to lie on the bed, naked, as I had been when I came out of the shower. I wasn’t cold. The remains of sparks were still roaming in my blood, and my hot, sweaty body didn’t want to believe that this was just a dream.

What a dream!

Good thing it’s a dream.

18. The Mask

The music lifted and plunged into hell, the crowd watched with bated breath every move of the seven demons, every sound made on stage. Halloween night – the eve of All Saints’ Day – gathered three hundred spectators in the nightclub of northern Brooklyn, and we were in the spotlight.

Masks were not only on the performers, the crowd was full of masquerade costumes of ghouls and witches, spiders, bats, and other evil spirits … However, more often than not, one could see guests with their faces somehow covered with cardboard masks – just to pass the dress code – who came to shake their heads to heavy music.

I didn’t care about the hands reaching out to me in ecstasy, I didn’t distinguish the half-covered faces and bodies – I gave myself over to the music, and the crowd in front of me was just a blurry play of colors. It didn’t bother me what was happening behind the stage; what was sounding in my head and in my heart was the only thing that mattered.

When my voice and the violin’s merged in harmony, resounding under the vaults of the hall in the final quint, and the crowd roared with delight, I had not yet fully come to my senses. The world was rocking and floating, sobriety was coming gradually, and I only took a deep breath into my stomach, twirling the cord from the microphone in my hands.

I noticed him too late – a hard look from his yellow eyes scratched my face – and the black shadow standing opposite me at the far end of the room appeared in the light of the spotlights. I felt defenseless, deprived of my shell, completely alone in the merciless glare of the bright lamps directed at me.

The microphone fell out of my hands with a crash onto the floor, but the background humming and noise scratching my ears were drowned out by the applause and shouts … I was already running off the stage, jumping over the scattered rubbish behind the scenes.

I didn’t know what exactly was driving me – whether it was the fear. To hide from the monster – who was chasing me down, breathing down my neck … Once in the dressing room, I turned around to lock the door from the inside, my heart pounding. With disobedient fingers, I snapped the flimsy lock – how naive I was to think that this would protect me!

An old lamp illuminated the square room. The black shadow would not come into the light … But he is not a shadow, he is a man. Just a man.

The main thing is to convince myself of this, and then everything will fall into place. He is not a ghost or a shadow, I just need to kick his ass! Who the hell is he that I, like a coward, should hide from him?!

I stepped back towards the door, and as I reached for the handle, the door swung open. The broken latch flew away, and I jumped to the side.

His yellow, glowing eyes narrowed, he walked slowly and silently, he approached me, and I backed away – to quickly find myself in the area of light.

“Give it back to me,” he said.

A charming voice – with a threat, beautiful and disgusting at the same time.

My butt crashed into the tabletop, the red-hot lampshade rested against my shoulder blade.

“I don’t mind. Go and get it.”

The answer didn’t please the black shadow, a gloved hand slowly reached for my throat, cutting through the circle of light pouring from behind my back. I didn’t have time to pull away, a strong grip was already on my neck, and all I could do was grab onto his hand.

Why can’t I move? Push, kick, hit his ear, anything … A real sleep paralysis.

He had to come closer, he was standing in the white beam of the lamp. The devilish yellow eyes no longer glowed with an evil fire – in the light they turned out to be human, albeit of an unusual, amber color. I peered into his face – and there was something wrong with it …

He wore a white mask depicting his facial features, and at first it seemed to be his face! So familiar in shape that it didn’t even surprise me. I took a shuddering, futile breath. He didn’t loosen his grip, he squeezed my throat even harder, so that I was just gasping for air.

He reached for my face with his other hand. I tried to turn away, I closed my eyes, the steel grip didn’t let me move. I dug my fingers into his icy hand, but only scratched the silk of the glove with my nails. He tore the mask off me – the strings ran through my hair, and the edge scratched my cheek.

“Give. Me. Back. My. Violin,” he said, separating the words with pauses.

The fingers tightened around my throat even more. Well, that’s it, he’s going to strangle me.

Sparks and shadows were already dancing before my eyes, the green specks in his yellow gaze were blurring into a murky spot. The mask he had just torn off me was white on the floor in the shadow of a tall silhouette leaning over me – a silhouette in the black cloak that did not reflect the light.

The mask was similar to mine. The mask was the same … My heart was jumping out of my chest, the booming thumps of blood were ringing in my ears like a heavy alarm. I was suffocating – I understood that, I needed to do something that would make him let go of my neck …

I reached forward blindly, my palm pressing against the tissue of the mask, my fingers sliding under the edge. He jerked away, retreating into the shadows, forgetting about me.

Wheezing and coughing, I slid down the edge of the table to the floor, ignoring the black shadow in the opposite corner. He stood motionless, I just rubbed my neck.

I never wanted to experience that again.

Where’s his noose? He watched silently as I rose to my feet, clutching my throat, swollen as if it belonged to someone else.

“I told you … Go and get it … You fucking asshole,” I croaked in the style of screaming vocalizes, bending down, choking on a cough and the oncoming vomit.

He continued to stare at me from the darkness. He didn’t get it.

“The violin isn’t here! Get out of here!”

Suddenly, the door swung open and Baphomet appeared on the threshold. He measured us with an indifferent look and calmly addressed me, “Victor, if you think that I will fight off a crowd of your fangirls throwing panties at my feet alone, you are mistaken, my friend.”

The shadow standing in the corner chuckled. Met only glanced at him.

He didn’t recognize the stranger? Yellow eyes, black cloak?!

“I understand, of course, that you are busy now, but—”

I wanted to object, but my vocal cords no longer obeyed. I felt even more sick since Met was holding the violin case in his hands.

That damn violin!

Before I could say anything, the black shadow darted towards Baphomet, blocking my view. I expected anything but that Met, seemingly not noticing either the stranger’s reaction or the fact that I was sitting on the floor, clutching my throat, would continue, “You asked me to return it to you now. Enjoy,” he said, leaving the case on the shelf by the door and hastily retreating, slamming the leaf.

I was shocked.

The yellow-eyed stranger, instead of grabbing the violin and disappearing into his underworld, continued to stand with his back to me, looking at the closed door.

Am I missing something?

He turned slowly, and the light fell on his mask again. If I hadn’t been sure that he had pulled my mask off and thrown it aside, I would have thought that was it. I stared at him.

For fuck’s sake, how could Met leave me alone with this monster? Did he really think this monster was a friend who came to visit me after the show?

I stood upright and leaned on the table.

“That’s what you wanted,” I said huntedly, meeting the yellow eyes and nodding towards the violin.

“You stupid boy,” he sighed, shaking his head, “are you afraid of me?”

I laughed hoarsely, wincing in pain. How could it be otherwise?

“I’m wary,” I replied. “Take it and go. Otherwise, I’ll tear your mask away.”

Mask – to remain incognito. The mask has many advantages: one hides his face, one can play someone else’s role, one can be nobody …

He knew it perfectly well.

“You can’t do that,” he said, deliberately indifferently.

Stupid idea … I rushed at him, trying to reach his face, my fingers already touching the white mask, but he threw me away, dodging. From a blow to the jaw, I ended up on the floor.

I couldn’t get up, blood started to spurt down my chin, I covered my mouth with my hand. When I stopped squinting, the black shadow was still there.

The noise in my head was getting louder. How stupid …

Falling into a crimson fog, spreading like a ringing pain in my head, I heard, “You’re just like them.”

Disgust mixed with annoyance.

19. Thirteenth Floor

“Your designer has lost his mind!” I heard through the glass wall of the conference room. “It’s too dark, it’s too empty. Is he stupid, or does he have eyes on his ass?”

Well, here we go again … The restless old man changes his requirements twenty times a day. A wedding for his niece in the style of a fashion house show would turn into a funeral if I listened to his wishes.

“I said I wanted smooth, soft shadows. My God!”

In the conference room Frei took the heat, deciding not to let the old man near me, colleagues in the open-plan office listened attentively to the accusations and whispered. There was already a proposal to send me back to the fight club – to where I was taken from.

I continued to scroll through the photos on my computer, feigning complete indifference.

The fight club comment was apt – I did look like crap: my lip was split, there was a bruise on the right side of my jaw, and I hadn’t been able to shave properly that morning. Luckily, the swelling and pain only made it uncomfortable when I tried to yawn – but I wanted to yawn all the time.

“Victor, want a coffee?”

I looked up from the screen, responding to the voice of Kathy Graham, Mrs. Thompson’s secretary.

I didn’t recognize her at first – and not at once did I understand why. While I was blinking, trying to figure it out, she had sat down on a chair on the opposite side of the desk, trying to get my attention, and was now peering out from behind the monitor separating us.

I nodded absently, trying not to listen to the exclamations behind the wall – Frei had finally told the old man demanding to call Mrs. Thompson to go fuck himself. If this didn’t stop, I was going to get up and throw a chair at someone – the one under Kathy – and start a fight club in the office. And I didn’t care that corporate ethics forbade throwing chairs at coworkers.

“What happened to your face?”

I also wanted to ask what was wrong with her face – since the reason for Kathy’s strange appearance was her makeup. It was an evening one, with black, panda-like eyes – though usually, as far as I remembered, she didn’t even put on mascara.

“I had a fight. Yesterday.”

My brief response apparently did not satisfy her, for she leaned over the pen cups on the desk so that one of them quickly overturned, and gasped, asking, “So what happened?”

An involuntary grin crawled onto my face, my jaw clenched from an unsuccessful attempt to twist my mouth. I didn’t look at the interlocutor, the scattered pencils and pens came into my field of vision, and my hands unwittingly reached out to collect them. When I finished with the office supplies, I noticed the abnormally undone buttons of the secretary’s blouse, and my eyebrows involuntarily crawled up.

She’s really weird. It’s probably her birthday today.

“One guy was wrong,” I muttered, pretending not to notice how she, as if adjusting her jacket, unbuttoned her neckline even further.

Naturally, I didn’t pay any more attention to the cups, which Kathy’s breasts had once again deliberately knocked over – I simply stared at the monitor, pretending to be diligently searching for something. The old man had disappeared from the conference room, and the colleagues were discussing football …

All day Kathy followed me around, offering me coffee every now and then, unbuttoning her blouse even more, and playfully adjusting her hair. It didn’t distract or irritate me, and I quickly stopped paying attention to the strange looks. It was unlikely that she wanted me to congratulate her on her birthday.

She, like other dreamy-minded girls, imagined that if I was so gloomy, thoughtful, and sad – like an enchanted monster from a fairy tale – then I definitely needed to be kissed …

She’s nice, but I didn’t even know what to talk to her about.

After lunch, I was completely lost in my thoughts, returning again and again to the odd recent events. The black shadow took the violin, Baphomet did not yet know he would not play the instrument anymore.

When I explain everything to him, he will understand. Deep down, I was still glad that I got rid of the violin – and I hoped now the black shadow would leave me alone and disappear from my life forever.

The elevator arrived on the first floor, the doors opened and four people, including me, entered the cabin. Riedel asked for the documents to be sent by courier, a large white envelope had already been handed over to the right hands, I stood right by the wall, examining the cracks in the mirror surface of the sides, staring off into space.

The elevator was almost closed when a girl – the same one I had seen at the entrance on my first day at the office – stormed in, squeezing through the doors. I hadn’t yet managed to process it with my head, but my heart had already started beating convulsively in my throat as soon as her silhouette flashed in the doorway.

I instantly felt hot, I didn’t understand what was happening: I was staring at the back of her head and the chestnut hair flowing over her shoulders. The cabin was filled with a barely perceptible scent – sweet perfume, vanilla with oriental notes …

I swallowed nervously, and for some reason I had nowhere to put my hands: I crossed them on my chest, hid them behind my back, shoved them into my jeans pockets … It’s good that she didn’t see me, I shouldn’t show myself to her with such a face.

The stranger stood close, I could see every eyelash, every wrinkle, I was almost looking over her shoulder – but she didn’t pay attention to me, checking her email on her smartphone.

I wanted to touch her, to reach out my hand – and I immediately pulled myself back in horror. What’s wrong with me?!

My thoughts were confused, it seemed to me I had met her somewhere before. Not last time, but a long time ago … I couldn’t recall, but the feeling of déjà vu was intense, I clenched my teeth until my jaw hurt, to stop breathing noisily.