Tim approaches me, hesitant to come near in the state I'm in.
"I don't even know what to say… Should I congratulate you on the win, or… maybe not?" he asks, looking at me with cautious worry in his eyes.
I'm furious after the conversation with Katrin. Everything inside me boils like a volcano ready to erupt. This isn't the outcome I expected. I thought that, after seeing my fight, she would finally understand that all that rage I unleashed on that poor guy wasn't just a burst of emotion. It's a cry of pain that has been building for years. A cry of a soul that has found no peace. That pain lives in me like rust on metal—eating me from the inside—and only the girl herself can heal my wounds, calm the inner fire. But she… instead, she just wants to forget the past. Wipe it away like chalk from a board. And move on as if nothing happened. As if we never existed. As if those three years ago, which left a permanent mark in my memory, never happened.
"Can you tell your guys to find her?" I ask, wiping blood from my fists. My hands shake—not from pain, but from despair and rage.
I don't care about anything anymore—about the fight, the wounds, anyone. I just want to find Rebel Girl. To find her and talk. Look into her eyes. Hear something real.
After today, it's time to address the situation at its root. Enough running in circles, enough half-said words. That means a serious conversation is waiting for us. A conversation I'm not ready for. Emotions rage, my mind is confused, but everything tells me I can't postpone it any longer. I have to stop tormenting both myself and her. And finally start a new life. With her. Even if Katrin doesn't want to see me anymore—especially after everything that has happened in recent weeks. Yes, I understand. I understand everything. I caused so much. Pushed everything to the edge, maybe even crossed it. And now, paradoxically, I feel almost more guilty than she does.
"All right," Tim replies shortly, but with understanding. He doesn't ask questions. He just nods and calls the guys from the gang. They immediately understand it's serious. And they go off to find her.
Some time passes, and I start getting tense that they still can't find her. With each second, my anxiety grows like a snowball. The unbearable waiting burns me from the inside.
"She hasn't vanished… Why can't they find my girl so long?!" I ask Tim with anger and despair, unable to hold back the storm inside me any longer.
"Calm down, please… They're looking for her and will bring her back as soon as they find her," my friend tries to reassure me, but his voice sounds muffled, as if through cotton.
I start worrying even more, as if something inside me tightens and pulls me down. With every minute, increasingly frightening, terrifying scenarios surface in my mind—as if dark shadows cover my thoughts, leaving no peace. I wouldn't survive if something happened to her… That thought torments me, awakens anxiety and fear that I can't silence. And it's all because of me. Because I, like a complete idiot, decide to take a little revenge, hoping in some way to ease the pain that has been building inside me. For the past, for the wounds I never forgave, for the feelings that never left us in peace.
All right. I admit it. I go too far. With all this. With the stupid actions and words that burn not only her, but also me. And now that thought gnaws at me like poison—I understand I should have acted differently, but now all I can do is hope that it's still possible to fix things.
Suddenly, my phone rings—the call rips me out of my thoughts like a sharp gust of wind, making my heart freeze for a moment, as if time stops. The screen displays a name—Grandpa Vi. His voice is always like an anchor to me, a reliable point of support in the raging sea of life, and at this moment, it sounds especially tense, filling me with both anxiety and anticipation.
"Hello," I answer, trying to sound calm and confident, although inside a storm of worry and concern rages, and every cell in my body screams that something is wrong.
"Maxim, why is Katrin calling me in the middle of the night asking me to pick her up?" he asks, with a sharp edge in his voice, as if sensing trouble. His words carry suspicion and worry, making me feel the weight of the situation.
I take a deep breath, as if trying to calm the raging sea of emotions inside, and at the same time feel a strange mix of relief and excitement: Rebel Girl has finally been found. It's a small ray of hope in the cold, impenetrable darkness of night, allowing me not to lose faith.
"Vi, is she with you?" I ask, ignoring his question, hoping to hear that she's safe, although the fear for her fate squeezes my chest and won't let go.
"Yes, but not for long," his words sound like a cold shadow of doubt running through my mind, making me tense and feel the approach of new trials.
"What does that mean?" panic erupts inside me like a raging stream, overwhelming my thoughts and making my heart beat faster, as if sensing that everything could change now.
"She's packing her things now. Then we'll pick up Mary, and I'll take them to her grandmother," Grandpa's voice is firm and decisive, but there is care and tenderness in it, as if he is trying to keep the situation under control and protect them from pain.
"All right, let them go if Katrin wants it," I agree, understanding that she needs to be alone now, time to cool down and sort herself and the situation out, despite the growing anxiety inside me.
"You'll tell me what you did that made her all tearful?" Vi demands, his voice stern, but behind the strictness is genuine concern and a desire to understand and help.
"I overdid it with words, and we argued," I answer briefly, without extra details, afraid of revealing too much and causing more harm.
"If you don't want to, then don't speak," he understands that I haven't told the whole truth. "But don't hurt Katrin. I have always been and will always be on her side, and you know that."
In his words, there is firm protection and deep love for her, and it warms my heart a little.
"I'll fix it. We'll both calm down, I'll go to her, and we'll solve our problems," I speak sincerely, hoping these words won't be empty promises, that peace will reign between us again.
"All right. Katrinka is going. Bye, tragic lover," he says with a light smile, and I can't help but grin—this nickname sounds unexpectedly sweet and eases the tension a bit.
I hang up the phone and put it in my pocket, feeling the tension ease slightly, as if a heavy weight on my soul has lifted a little.
"Can I call the guys back? Did you find her yourself? But how did he manage it?" Tim babbles out of curiosity, his eyes showing worry.
"Call them back. Rebel Girl called him herself, and he came for her," I explain briefly, not going into details, trying to keep my inner balance. "I need to go home, so I'll leave," I add, feeling both tired and relieved, as if after a long storm a quiet moment finally comes before dawn.
We hug like brothers, tightly, as if supporting each other in this difficult and complicated moment, and say goodbye. A warm hope remains in my soul that everything can still be fixed, that light awaits us ahead, even if right now everything seems so dark. No, I know I won't make it in time before Katrin is there. And I don't need that—no, we need time to calm down, to finally be able to talk normally, without shouting and hurt. At least I desperately need this time to sort myself out, to let go of the anger and pain that have been building inside.
So, before going home, I ride my motorcycle, speeding through the night city, trying to shake off all the anger, resentment, and that pain that suffocates me from the inside. I am angry and hurt at the same time—both at her and at myself. At her for the words that hurt, and at myself for letting those words affect me so deeply, for not finding the right words to fix everything. The engine roars beneath me, and the wind hits my face, as if trying to carry away all these heavy feelings, making my heart beat faster with every second.