2

The last three hundred feet were always the toughest. The most challenging. Halfway through, stopping would be an option, but so close to the finish line, quitting was unacceptable.

The cold air whispered in Amelia’s ear like a commentator counting down the last seconds.

Three hundred feet… two hundred… one hundred…

She forgot all about proper breathing.

Seventy… sixty…

A new gust of wind tried to sway her from the path.

Fifty… forty… thirty…

Stopping would feel good right now. It would work well to solidify her misery. That thought brought her a sense of masochistic pleasure. She wasn’t sure what would hurt less –digging her heels in the ground or finishing her run.

Twenty…

Amelia crossed the finish line. Hurray! Nobody applauded, because nobody was watching. It was just her and the constant need to race against herself, something she had been doing every morning in South Park for the last three years.

She held her breath despite her body’s desperate demand for fresh air. Could she die like this? She counted down the seconds – one, two, three…

What was wrong with her, for heaven’s sake? Counting shit all the time?

The unconscious will to live prevailed over her suicidal thoughts, and Amelia began breathing again. The first gulp of air burned through her lungs like coal, forcing her to cough. She wanted to spit, but no, that wouldn’t be proper. If her mother was looking down on her, she would disapprove.

The leaves above her head rustled and caught her attention. A shiny black crow was perched atop a leafless branch.

Black crows portend death , her grandmother used to say.

“You’re too late. They’re already dead,” Amelia said, staring deep into the bird’s eyes.

It lowered its head, as if it understood. As if it cared. As if it was offering condolences.

Amelia hated condolences. Instead of comforting her, they served as a reminder of what she had lost.

“Be gone, you horrid black creature!” She yelled at the crow, but it didn’t budge from its position in the tree. “Fuck you, then. Sit there and watch.” She walked past it and rushed home.

The low branches of the trees on both sides of the path intertwined above her head, drizzling wilted leaves with every blow of the wind. It must have been cold, but warmth crept up her cheeks as she exited the timber tunnel and headed to the wider part of South Park. The sight of a couple in matching sweatsuits jogging past her awakened her gag reflex. So cheesy. Ugh.

She gave herself a second to shake off the image and focused on the day ahead. Tomorrow night, she was scheduled to be on duty at the surgical wing of the St. Nicolas Hospital. Working there as a nurse was dirty and exhausting, made even more so by one of the surgeons’ wandering hands every time he caught her alone in the staff room. But the money was worth it, and the surgeon had long passed the age of being capable of raising anything but his arms, so he was harmless. Overall, though, she enjoyed working at the hospital. Her dream of becoming a doctor hadn’t changed since childhood, one of the few things that life hadn’t dissuaded her from. Amelia was so close to the finish line; one final exam and she would become a doctor. But until then, she had to work as a nurse to support herself. So little left to do, but she’d get there.

She passed by a handsome middle-aged man in sportswear, who was sliding his finger up and down the screen on his phone. When he noticed her, he started tossing his hands back and forth, as if warming up for his exercise. He smiled and greeted her with a husky “Hello.”

Amelia glanced at him with indifference – slicked-back hair, playful eyes, cocky smile, and a direct approach. He might as well have been called Mr. Comes-in-your-mouth-without-warning. No, thank you.

A grin tugged at her lips at the nickname. She hadn’t heard it since eighth grade, when one of her friends had come across the phrase on TV and had liked it so much, she’d used it all the time to address the horny teenagers in their class that had probably never even gotten a blowjob in their lives.

She walked by and forgot all about him as she waited at the stoplight to cross the busy morning traffic boulevard. The dump she was inhabiting was just across from the park – the only positive side to that so-called four hundred square feet apartment. It suited her well. She never had friends over, except for that colleague from the university who had spent a couple of awkward nights with her.

Once home, she had a quick shower, dressed in a pair of jeans and a shirt, and made a half-hearted attempt at fixing her hair. Before her parents’ death, she’d had beautiful, light blonde locks that fell to her waist. Now, she wore it shoulder-length and always straight or tied in a simple ponytail. A ponytail day awaited ahead.

Taking one last glance at her pale reflection in the mirror, she struggled to recognise the person staring back at her with the haggard, foreign face. The single familiar feature was her dark blue eyes. Sure, they’d lost their spark, but still… Mom’s sapphires.

Except Mom was gone now, and so was the shine of her sapphires.

Amelia threw on a long coat, hid herself behind enormous sunglasses, and walked out straight in the middle of the monotonous grey routine of her everyday life.

The usual crowd of elderly men and women mourning the death of communism had already taken their seats on the benches in front of the building. A golden retriever was satisfying his morning needs on the neglected lawn nearby as his owner yelled into her phone. The dog produced a massive pile, which the woman ignored as she started tugging him away, to which the pensioners reacted with angry shouts and threatening cane-waving.

Amelia’s bag vibrated. She located the Nokia she’d been using ever since she had deleted all her social media profiles and had decided that she didn’t need the useless functions of the modern-day phone. The caller ID read “Work”.

“Dragova, are you free tonight?” Her boss was a straight-to-the-point kind of guy.

She frowned. “I believe so.”

“Half the staff has some sort of stomach flu. Nikolova is sick, Krasteva just called that she can’t work her shift, the head nurse is also out…”

That explained why the boss was calling her himself.

“All right, I’ll be there.”

“Good, I’m adding you to the schedule.” With that, he hung up.

“Hello” and “Thank you” weren’t part of his repertoire. ‘We work to get the job done, not scratch our tongues with useless bullshit,’ was his motto. Amelia was fine with that; she didn’t like to disclose personal information at work anyway, and that was very easy to do when the boss tolerated no frivolities. ‘Whoever gets his work done, gets more work, that’s why we pay you for “working hours”. ’ Another motto. That was fine, too. Free time often crept up on her with unsavoury thoughts, so she liked to keep busy.

She turned left at the crossing of Louis Ayer and Silivriya Street and found her old orange Renault parked along the curb among the other cars. Stick shift and a tad too large, but not something she could part with. It had been a present from her father for her excellent performance on the entry exams at the Medical University of Sofia. She had avoided using it at first, worried about the city traffic, but her father had persuaded her as, according to him, every woman had to be an active driver.

She hit the first traffic jam a minute into driving. On rare days like today, when she wasn’t late for work or classes, idling in traffic calmed her. She had accepted that no matter what she did, the cars in front wouldn’t magically get scooped up with a vacuum cleaner and clear her path. So, free from responsibility and worry, she reached for the glove compartment and fished out her Godsmack CD. There were traffic jams where she preferred Alicia Keys, but today, she craved the sound of electric guitars.

Thirty minutes later, Amelia parked across the street from Nadine’s apartment, a fellow student, and headed up to get her notes from all of Professor Sokolev’s lectures.

Tiffany, Nadine’s dog – a Dogo Argentino purebred – greeted Amelia at the door with a curious sniff. She was deaf but recognised gestures, and with her long uncut ears and her sweet temper, she could almost pass for a Labrador.

Nadine passed the thumb drive and blurted out, “I’m leaving for Berlin right after the final exam.”

“Oh…wow.” Amelia blinked. “Will you do your residency there?”

“I hope so.”

Amelia patted Tiffany’s white snout, thinking this might be the last time she ever saw the dog. She cast about for something else to say, something positive. “You’ll find work here effortlessly – you’re the honorary graduate.”

“I will be, after I take the last exam. But honestly, even so, nothing’s keeping me here.”

Amelia glanced at the dog. “What about her?”

“Her?” Nadine smiled. “She goes where I go. We’ll be couch-surfing until we find our own place.”

On her way to her car, Amelia couldn’t shake the thought that nothing was keeping her here either, so why the hell couldn’t she do what Nadine was doing and just leave this place?

Maybe it was time to get a dog.

***

When she reached her car, she found a sleek black Mercedes parked just a quarter of an inch in front, effectively blocking her in. A quick glance around confirmed that Amelia couldn’t back out either; she had been imprudent enough to reverse her orange Renault into the slot too close to the Golf behind her just five minutes ago.

Five fucking minutes! She’d been gone all of five minutes, and now she couldn’t get out because the Mercedes was occupying a space where parking wasn’t even allowed!

Amelia got in her car and, as patiently as she could muster, counted seven back-and-forth manoeuvres, trying to wedge herself out. With an exasperated huff, she turned the steering wheel and pressed the gas pedal to free herself from the parking space just a tenth of an inch from the shiny bumper of the expensive vehicle… only to crash into a different car that was passing down the street.

Her fingers tightened on the wheel. What the hell had she done? What kind of ridiculous…

The driver to her left started down the road, without getting out to check the damage she’d caused to his car.

Did he leave the scene?

The Renault died as Amelia’s head grew lighter. She glanced at her shaking hands, now white-knuckled onto the steering wheel. She had to check the damage on her car, so she started the engine, putting the shifter in reverse… Her breaths became shallower, her heart pounded in her throat.

Panic attacks. She was acquainted with them and knew better than to, well, panic because she was having one.

Breathe…

Nausea crept in as she backed the car into the parking space. To make matters worse, this time around, she didn’t succeed in avoiding the Mercedes. She slammed straight into it, scratching it with one long, loud metallic screech. Her heart wanted to jump out of her chest.

Across the street, a bald, burly man sprinted towards her, flailing his arms. Even through the closed car windows, the volley of swearwords he was aiming at her was more than audible. Rushing to his precious car, he inspected the minuscule scratch on the bumper, clutching his temples with his hands.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” he yelled at Amelia through the window of her car. “Ya got any idea how much this car costs?”

She had no idea, but she intended to get out of the car with her head held high, and give him as much as it was necessary to repair the tiny scratch. Alas, the panic attack had other plans for her body, and she found herself unable to move. Even if she could have, she doubted her legs could hold her up.

“Are you drunk or something?!” His face reddened. “Get out of that fucking rust bucket!”

Amelia lowered her window, hating that her voice came out wobbly. “I’m sorry, it was an accident.” She despised how panic attacks weakened her body and earned her undesired sympathy. And being seen as a victim – she hated.

Though she didn’t look like a winner either, as she hung on her steering wheel, heart pumping erratically, mouth going dry. At least the man didn’t seem inclined to pity her.

“Accident, huh? Who gave you a driver’s licence? He must have been a fucking idiot!”

A tall man in a leather jacket and dark jeans showed up out of nowhere. “Is there a problem?” His eyes darted at her through the windshield.

The car owner whirled on him. “Who the hell are you?”

“Let’s all calm down, shall we?” The stranger raised his palms before his chest, but it was not the gesture that caught her attention. It was the fullness of his lips that curled at the corners and mocked the other man.

The bald man gave her a withering glare over his shoulder. “Did you call this guy over to rescue you?”

The stranger approached and placed a hand on the bald man’s shoulder, a light chestnut strand of hair falling over his profile. “Come with me and let’s solve this peacefully.”

The bald man clenched his fists. “Didn’t you hear me the first—” Something made him stop mid-sentence and nod in agreement. Without another spoken word, he stepped aside and followed the stranger down the sidewalk.

Amelia watched them go, biting her lip. Why was a stranger taking responsibility for her actions?

She stepped out of her car on shaky legs and scanned the surroundings for the two men. With each passing second, air filled her lungs and slowed her heartbeats, but the strong feeling of danger wouldn’t leave her.

“Are you all right?”

She turned to the left and the stranger was next to her. The bald man was nowhere in sight.

Amelia focused on the man before her, taking in his features. Up close, those lips were far from the single fine trait on his face. In fact, everything about him was outstanding. His jawline and chiselled cheekbones radiated power, and maybe some arrogance. The hooded shape of his eyes made her think of dark secrets and mystery. And was the colour of his irises green or…?

She caught herself staring, so she cleared her throat. “I’m fine. But where…?”

“Where is that prick? He apologises for parking so close to you and blocking you in. He hopes that this will compensate you for the trouble he caused.” The man shoved a few banknotes in her hand.

She gaped at the money. “But it was my fault. I should be paying him .”

The stranger’s jaw tensed. “Well, he doesn’t think so.”

“Thank you for your help, but it was unnecessary. I don’t want this money. In fact…” She remembered the other car she’d crashed into, which had driven away, and looked for it down the street.

“If you’re wondering about the poor guy, you hit…” He cleared his throat. “It was me. I parked around the corner and came back to check up on you.”

That was embarrassing.

“Oh, no! I don’t know what got into me. I’m truly sorry.”

He waved his hand in dismissal. “Don’t worry about it. It was high time I got rid of that pile of bolts.”

“Here, you should have the money.” She shoved it back into his hand, but he refused to take it.

Amelia narrowed her eyes. She’d hit his car and instead of being angry, he had rescued her from the other man she’d also hit, given her money as compensation, and stuck around to check if she was all right. To top it off, she couldn’t recall a time when she’d met a more handsome man. Suspicious, indeed.

As if to confirm this, he said, “No need. The Oracle sent me.”

“Oracle?”

The man stared at her persistently with an indecipherable expression and eyes that were the most unusual colour. He took a small piece of paper out of his pocket and handed it over to her. “In case you ever need help again.”

Amelia glanced at the business card. “Mikhail Korovin, The Hospital,” she read out loud, raising her eyebrows. There was a phone number, too.

“Nice to meet you,” he said.

“You as well. I’m Amelia.” After another glance at the card, she asked, “What hospital?”

She could have sworn his eyes turned greener at her question. Instead of answering, he said, “Goodbye, Amelia. Take care.” With that, he left.

“Well… Bye?” Amelia was no less confused than at the beginning of their encounter, but he was already too far away for her to ask him more questions.

She got back into her car, still bewildered and clutching the business card and the money in one hand.