Komsomol: Right Thing’s Price

Chapter 2

Underneath the glory of warmth and the air of longevity, the sound of joy reverberated around the school playgrounds like a string of music of improvised result. The rocky ground fumed with heat of midday’s intricate mood, crawling into and around cloth, flesh, steel and plastic.

The days had went by and nothing in particular had happened after the small confrontation at the classroom with Pietre, but my guard couldn’t just fall down, so I was a nervous wreck, since I was expecting him to do something to me at any given moment. More whispers were spread around the orphanage that someone wanted my residence, which I knew for sure was him. If he wanted to know where I was, then what he was planning in secrecy was going to be for sure a surprise of nastiest scents and taste.

Vania became more attached to me, which was discouraging, as she’d try to stick around me most of the time during the school days, even during breaks. I’d be asked if she was my girlfriend and other kinds of filth, which would increase the frustration in my essence. I was doing this for the work and nothing else. They could go and stick their Komsomol crap up their asses, because working for free wasn’t’ going to feed my stomach.

And here I was, after a laborious game of football, having been watched by Vania and now sat on the same bench as her. I was resting in the aftermath’s effort of sprinting. We had won, but no such feeling was present in my lack of focus. No wonder the damn ball hit my face…

“I think you were… good,” Vania prompted, but I just remained silent, staring at the distant mountain which could be seen from the school’s loom. “You think you can show me how to play?” With a glare at her, I moved closer so I could see the emotion in her eyes. Why did she believe she could force friendship by this mutual deal we had done? Why was she even trying this… fakeness to begin with when she could save herself the time, and do something else in her mind, or whatever the hell there was.

“Abandon it.”


“You keep lying interest. You’re not invested in me or what I like. The only reason you try to is because of what we shook to.”


“Just abandon it and don’t fuss. Deal’s a deal. You ain’t my friend. It’s fucking frustrating me!” My thoughts were unraveled and it was all said. Now she could accept her hypocrisy and just behave normally, like a real person would, and I wouldn’t need to have to conform to her attempts of deceitful conditioning.

“But I think am…” Why was she keeping the ruse, this miscalculated attempt of control. I looked at her, patiently waiting to see the crap that would leave her mouth. “I think I know you a little bit. You wander to yourself and try to take care of yourself. I think I know it’s hard being an orphan… I think I don’t know how you feel, but I’m a bit like you. Just… well you heard.”

My mouth opened to intervene, but my mind shouted at me to keep listening, to see if what I was believing was either true or false. Why did I want it to be false all of a sudden?

“Protecting me, I think I don’t feel alone anymore. I can trust you to be my friend. I think it’s selfish, but I think I just don’t want to be lonely…”

“You’re lonely?” Her shuffles meant only one thing: shame of herself.

“Nobody wants to be around me much because I think they think the leper would wander at them…” I knew full well the issues between them both, but they were only recent developments.

“Beggar’s never been like this, Vania…”

“I think his words stopped covering me. He needed another way… I’ve talked with authorities, but I think they don’t believe me.”

“Your parents?”

“I think they think I deserve it. Father says I talk too much.”

“Well, he ain’t wrong, heh.” At my comment, her expression told me she was hurt and I felt the need to repair the damage, so I added, “But don’t shake it in bad light. Sorry, ain’t easy to trust people from where I crawl from.”

“What was it like?” she quickly cut in, as if waiting for me to open up and give her passage into my life. In a way, I was tempted.

“Yea. What’s it like in mud and piss-soaked beds?” cut in the familiar, sneering voice. There he was in front of us, Pietre, his hands lazily limp on both sides and his tall body arched at our seated selves.

“Shut up, leper,” Vania threw against him, and his amusement from his words filtered away.

“So you’re the gypsy’s dog, aren’t you heriot?” he tried again, getting my heart to throb at the insult, but somehow it wasn’t enough to make me react violently.

“That all, leper?” I asked, and it seemed the comment had its effect, as he couldn’t make a comeback and just stood there like an idiot. Maybe he wasn’t as bright or scary as I had thought, and there was this strange effect of power of having someone next to me who believed the same.

“I think he’s got broken teeth. Leper!” Vania jabbed with a giggle, and I couldn’t stop myself from snorting with malice at the filthy boy in front of us. Yet, there was no more emotion in him, he was apathetic to everything we were throwing at him in terms of ganged-words.

Then, he smiled and walked at Vania, reaching out his hand for her hair once more. This sense of strength had empowered me, and at her squeak, I hit his hands and grabbed him by the baggy shirt, his visage now straight in front of mine with that awful and untwitching smile.

“Don’t even dare touch her, filth!”

“Tell me, Slavi. When did you serf so low?” I couldn’t’ follow what he meant with those words, but the fires of hate were telling me that I wouldn’t like what his filth was going to sputter.

“Was it when your gypsy mother shat you on the floor and left you to die?” The only thing in focus was him, the other pleading sounds around me falling deaf to my rage, as he had somehow guessed, or maybe knew, of my deeply enrooted issues of my past. At that moment, I wanted to kill him.

“Alone like a dog. Useless, repulsing, a waste of spa—” The words stopped as I bashed my head into his mouth, grabbing his ears and throwing his whole body on the hard and flaring ground. My elbow bashed against his throat and my fists ravaged his laughter, blood streaking from his nose and the cuts I was creating upon his filthy skin. Someone tried to pull me away, Vania.

Faint words like ‘he wants you to do this’ and ‘stop’ roamed the air, but my body craved to end the life of this miserable fiend right here, right now. But then someone stronger grabbed and pulled me away, slaps hitting against my face and yells discordantly putting new fears in my muffled inferno.

In between the bodies of teachers and students, I saw him rise from the streaks of blood I had caused leak to, and the grey bloodshot eyes mocked my failed effort and thanked me for what was just done… When my head looked around and found the face of some teacher I had never seen before, I knew what this fucker’s plan was all along.

All of a sudden, his eyes had teared and he was scrunching his body as if I had cut all his nerves in it, making a spectacle out of just a few solid hits, which I knew for sure hadn’t done much. Nobody laughed at their own beating, only if they were used at getting it.

I knew that first hand.