"Say it again!" I shout at him, my voice loud and sharp, filling the room with anger. Every muscle in my body tenses, ready for action. My fists clench so tightly that my nails dig into the palms of my hands, but I barely feel the pain. All my attention is focused on Stas, who stands before me with a smug grin.
"Oh, who's this? Came to defend her honor?" he sneers, his voice dripping with contempt. His words are like a spark igniting gunpowder inside me. I don't think, I don't plan—I just act.
I step toward him and swing my fist hard into his face. My knuckles connect with his jaw, and I feel his head jerk back violently. He staggers but doesn't fall. At that moment, his friend Peter rushes at me, grabbing my shoulders and trying to pull me away. But I'm not about to back down.
"You bastard. Hold him, Peter," Stas rasps, wiping blood from his lips, and I know he isn't going to stop.
Peter holds me as Stas begins punching me in the stomach. Each blow is painful, but I refuse to give up. I'm not foolish enough to just stand there and take it. Summoning all my strength, I kick Stas in the chest, sending him stumbling backward. He hits the edge of a table and momentarily loses his balance. That's enough for me to break free from Peter's grip.
While Stas is still recovering, I turn to Peter and punch him square in the face. My fist connects with his jaw, and he crumples to the floor with a thud. But I don't stop—I keep hitting him in the stomach, feeling him writhe beneath me. My mistake is getting too caught up in the moment. I don't notice Stas grabbing a cutting board and swinging it at my head.
The blow is deafening. My vision blurs, and the world around me seems to spin. I fall to the floor with a crash, pain shooting through my head like a hot knife. My ears ring, and I can barely think straight. But I know I can't afford to feel sorry for myself. I have to keep fighting, no matter what.
They start kicking me. Each kick is agonizing, but I try to ignore it. I clench my teeth and attempt to get up, but my body won't obey. All I can do is curl up and shield my head with my arms. But I know I can't just lie there and take it. I have to find a way to fight back.
Grabbing Stas's leg, I yank hard, pulling him to the floor. He falls with a dull thud, and I immediately pin him down, punching him in the face with all the rage I've bottled up since his insults. Each blow is fueled by the anger that has been building inside me. My fists clench and unclench, and all I can think about is protecting her, protecting Rebel Girl, even if it means becoming a monster in the eyes of others.
That's when the girls burst into the room. Their faces twist in horror at the scene: Peter on the floor, groaning in pain, and Stas, who I'm beating mercilessly. I realize how it must look to them—like I'm the aggressor, the villain. My bloodied hands freeze mid-air as the weight of their judgment hits me.
I look at Katrin. Her face is pale, her eyes filled with terror and confusion. She stares at me as if I'm a stranger. I've ruined everything. Everything we've built, everything between us—it has all crumbled in an instant. Now she will never speak to me again. We won't even be able to remain friends. My heart aches with a pain I can't put into words.
I climb off Stas and stand up. My body trembles, and my head still rings. The girls behind Rebel Girl gasp and step back, their eyes filled with fear. They are afraid of me. Katrin doesn't move. She stands frozen, her eyes locked on mine, and all I can see in them is one word: disappointment.
I have become a disappointment to her, a disgrace. That word cuts through me like a knife. I want to scream, to explain that it wasn't my fault, that they started it, that they insulted her and deserved it. But I know it's pointless. When they walked in, they didn't see me defending her—they saw me beating the boys. I can't prove my innocence. In their eyes, I am the aggressor, the monster who lost control.
My hands drop to my sides, and I feel the weight of guilt pressing down on me. I stand before her, bloodied and trembling, knowing it's over. Her eyes, which once shone with warmth and trust, now look at me with cold disappointment. I want to say something, but the words stick in my throat. All I can do is stand there and watch as she turns away from me.
"All three of you, get back to the room!" one of the girls commands, her voice sharp but tinged with exhaustion and tension. Everyone obeys—well, sort of. The girls help the boys to their feet and guide them to the couch. Everyone except my Rebel Girl. My Rebel Girl? No, not mine anymore. What makes you think she's yours? She'll never be yours again. This is the end. Final and irreversible.
Peter is carefully laid on the couch, while Stas limps to his seat. A heavy silence settles over the room, as if the air is thick with unspoken words and hidden emotions.
"Speak, Max. And no one interrupt him—I'll give everyone their turn," Katrin says, her voice calm but laced with steel. She is ready to hear the truth, no matter how bitter it might be.
I stand across from her, feeling my heart pound wildly in my chest. Everyone else sits on the couch, their eyes fixed on me. I can feel the weight of their stares, as if each of them is trying to pierce through my thoughts, my soul.
"I was coming back from the bathroom and overheard them saying vile things about you," I begin, trying to speak clearly, though my voice trembles slightly. "Vlad said that if I weren't around, he'd get you drunk and sleep with you. He also bragged about sleeping with all the girls in your group, and that you were the only one who hadn't given in to anyone."
I finish and fall silent. There's no point in saying more—her verdict is already clear. A heavy pause hangs in the room, as if time itself has stopped. I feel everything inside me tighten. I want to cry, but I hold back, refusing to show my weakness.
"Stas, your turn. Is what Max said true?" Katrin asks, her voice cold as ice.
The guy stands up from the couch and walks over to me. I don't look at them; my gaze is fixed on the floor. I'm scared. Scared that he'll spin some lie, that she'll believe him instead of me. Scared that she'll kick me out of her life, and I'll be left alone. Alone with this feeling of loss and pain.
I feel the tears welling up, but I force myself to hold it together. In that moment, everything I have, everything I value, could crumble in an instant. And I am powerless to change it.
"How can you believe this guy, who you've known for a month, over me, your friend of a year?" Stas protests, his voice dripping with feigned hurt.
"I haven't made up my mind yet. I'm just asking," Katrin replies, trying to remain fair, though her patience is wearing thin.
"Of course he's lying," Stas shoots back, his tone confident.
"Then what really happened?" Her gaze shifts to Stas. She's waiting for an explanation, waiting for the truth that seems to be slipping away from her.
"We were smoking, and he came into the kitchen and started acting tough. Bragging about his relationship with you. Then he started asking stupid questions," Stas says, his voice convincing but with a hint of strain.
"What kind of questions?" She isn't about to let him off that easily.
"Well, like, did I want you and in what position. I told him he was drunk and gave him a light shove, and then he just went off on me and my friend. We were shocked by his behavior. Seriously, man, you can't handle your drink, and how can you lie so shamelessly?" Stas finishes, his voice almost sincere, but his eyes betray the lie.
Wow, when did he even have time to come up with such a story? I think, feeling anger and helplessness tighten inside me.
"I've made my decision," Katrin announces. "I really thought you were my friend. I trusted you, and I never thought you could say or do something like this. So I'm sorry, but it's better if you leave. Not just this apartment, but my life. Goodbye—we won't see each other again."
I cry. Tears stream down my cheeks as I take a step toward the door. All I feel in that moment is pain, disappointment, and the crushing sense that the world around me is falling apart.
"Go on, get out of here…" Stas taunts, his voice mocking. He's savoring the moment, feeling like the victor.
As I move to walk past Katrin, she unexpectedly places a hand on my chest, stopping me. Her touch is soft but firm, filled with resolve. She looks at me, and in her eyes, I see a mix of emotions—anger, pain, regret, and something else I can't quite decipher.
In that moment, I feel something inside me break. I want to tell her everything, to explain, to prove that I haven't lied. But the words stick in my throat, and all I can do is look at her, feeling the tears continue to stream down my face.