Chapter 2. Kirsty.
The USA. Several days later.
- Miss Cotton, shall I see you home?
"Gosh, not again…" – Kirsty was ready to curl up and die only to get rid of those damned admirers. Hardly had she showed herself weak or seemed "mysterious" to them, they appeared like wasps around jam. How much she wanted to discourage them!
- Oh, no, Mr. White, don't worry. – she said with a compelled smile and went faster.
Of course, she was to blame herself for extra attention. She was not only an "accident widow" but an extraordinary pretty and "lonely" woman. If adding her rather "normal" behavior it was obvious why she was paid "special" attention at work.
- Hey, Kirsty!
- No, thanks! – she snarled at the security at the building.
It's over, no more men. It's just history. She's through with it – all the men she knew either tried to kill her or betrayed her trust. And all of the died… Only Steve survived, perhaps only because he had guts to leave her. He did right unless he'd spend his days somewhere between her father's and Trevor's personal hell.
"Damn it, again I remembered this bedhopper!" She felt sick and leaned to the nearest lamp stand. Several passers-by looked sideways at her.
"So that's the way I'm trying to escape their attention" – she chuckled to herself.
She wouldn't forget those situation in the bus, when she went into hysteria at seeing some guy, sitting in front of her and playing some stupid videogame, when she heard out of the games device: "Unless we'll tear your soul apart!" Or how she vomited on the counter when beef reminded her human flesh. No wonder she was given extra days-off, she was allowed to take vacations, when it was convenient, and was advised some numbers of "rather promising" psychologists. As if she was given a broad hint "Get well, until it's too late". Only in her case no psychologist could help her, not less than psychiatrist. But she'll never visit psychiatrist, even at the cost of her life, she had enough till the end of her life!
What was abnormal, is to call her existence a life. Work-home, home-work, days-off meant staying at home and going mad, than work again. She wanted to forget such life and run somewhere into the wild, only out of here.
Or perhaps opening those crap stuff and run into cenobites' embrace shouting "Do wherever you want only get me out of here!"
She broke into laughter at the last thought. Something heavy touched her shoulder. She screamed and turned around but it was an only old neighbour. She sighed.
- Oh, I'm so sorry, miss Cotton. I didn't mean to scare you.
- Oh, don't worry. Something with my nerves today…
- I…well…my dog tore his chain, I couldn't see…well, you have a pit in your lawn. I'll pay the damages, I promise…
- Oh, it's a trifle, forget it. I don't take care of my lawn much…
Her neighbour, as if she waited for such an answer, continued:
- My dog pulled something out of the pit, when I started to pull him from it…
Kirsty's heart leaped.
- That's what he found – she stretched her hand out.
Everything inside of her was burning – this goddamn box. Well, the dog must have paid enormous efforts to pull it out – she remembered that she had du it somewhat a metre and a half below.
She took the box carefully. Saying goodbye to her neighbour she went home with rigid panicky walk.
- You bore me to death – she turned to the box, as if it was an annoying fly. – I tried to drown you, lose you in the park, even dug you, but you return to me as if some kind of a boomerang!
She stared at the box on the half way to the kitchen.
- Anyway – Kirsty couldn't stand the long pause. – if you like me so much, I'll have to upset you, this feeling is nonmutual!
It wasn't irrational to talk to this puzzle box. And it was such a sweet interlocutor – never scraped acquaintance, listened and always kept silence!
- You'll spend this night in the fridge! Maybe it will serve you right to leave me alone.
