Page 70 - Revelation

Svetlana de Rohan-Levashova. Revelation

words. I looked at her mother. Christina nodded.

It didn’t seem a good idea to me, but I had no right to make any decision instead
of them, because this was their life and, most likely, it was their last conversation.
I repeated the little girl’s words and was terrified of the miserable father’s
expression. It seemed that he had been stabbed right in the heart. I tried to talk to him
or calm him down somehow, but he was beside himself and refused to hear anything.

– Please, enter. – The girl whispered.
I managed to squeeze by him through the doorway and entered the flat. There
was a stifling smell of alcohol and of something that I could not define.
Once, a long time ago, it had been a very pleasant and comfortable flat, one of
those which we call happy. But now it was a real "nightmare", which its owner was
unable to get out of on his own...

Pieces of broken porcelain were scattered all over the floor, mixing with torn
photos, clothes, and heaven knows what else. The windows were tightly curtained and
the room was submerged in semi-darkness. Certainly, this kind of "decor" could only
cast a mortal gloom followed by suicide...
Probably, Christina had similar thoughts, because she suddenly asked me:

– Please, do something.
I answered: "Of course!", but thought to myself: "If I only knew what!!!"
Nevertheless, something had to be done and I decided that I would try until I got
whatever result – either he would hear me at last or (at worst) he again would chuck
me out of the flat.
– So, are you going to talk to them or not? – I asked him with deliberate anger in
my voice. – I don’t have spare time for you and I am here only because this wonderful
person – your daughter – is here with me!

The man suddenly flopped into an arm-chair, embraced his head with his hands
and began to sob bitterly. It lasted long enough, and it was obvious that, like most
men, he absolutely did not know how to cry. His tears were scanty and came to him
very hard. For the first time I understood what the expression “man-tears” truly meant.
I sat down on the edge of a beside-table and confusedly watched the stream of
another person’s tears, having absolutely no idea what to do next.

– Mummy, what are all those monsters doing here? – The scared thin voice faintly
asked.
Only now did I notice some very strange creatures a multitude of which "spun"
around the drunken Arthur...
My hair stood on end. They appeared to be mostly "monsters" from fairy-tales,
only here they seemed very real. They looked like evil spirits released from an oil
lamp which managed to "fasten" right to the poor man’s chest and, hang on him like a
bunch of grapes, gladly "devouring" his life-force, which was almost exhausted
already…

I felt that Vesta was absolutely horrified but tried not to show it as best she could.
The poor thing watched in horror at how the terrible "monsters" pitilessly "ate" her

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