A friend and a dog's heart Chapter 1.

Aneta Bittnerová

Chapter 1.

It was one of the last weeks of winter. It had been drizzling outside since morning, and now, for a good half hour, rain and snow had been drumming on the windowpane and windowsill.

He sat on the bed, curled up, watching Nika concentrate on packing things into a bag. She was holding back tears, trying to be strong. She left most of it there anyway. She took only a few of his personal belongings and then those she wanted to keep as souvenirs. She hobbled to the door with the bags. "I've got everything. Will you be okay, Víťo?" she asked, looking at the little boy with tousled blond hair. He wasn't little, but he looked like it now. He sat on his bed with his legs tucked under his chin, hugging his knees. Like a child. Nika saw this, and even though she would have liked to curl up in someone's arms herself, she would wait until she got home. Now she wanted to be a supportive friend to him. Even though he wouldn't appreciate it.

He shrugged his shoulders a little before lifting his head and showing his face with a stubborn expression. He flashed her a hostile look. Why does Nikola keep asking him about it? He hated the caring questions that everyone kept asking him over and over again. He must look really pathetic when they come back to him from all sides, like a boomerang.

"Sure, don't worry," he grumbled, his chin pressed against his elbow. As usual, he was wearing a worn-out dark sweatshirt with a cracked inscription on the front and a hood that now hung down his back, but a moment ago he had it on his head with only his nose sticking out.

"Okay," she sighed, sounding resigned. "I'm going then. Call me if anything happens."

"Sure, thanks, Niko."

Nikola is Ondra's sister, and it's clear that she came to collect a few of her brother's belongings that were left behind. She packed up everything that had any value. Except for the big TV. She respected the fact that he and Vítek had chipped in for it; she didn't know the details of their agreement, but she knew that it was half Vítek's, so she left it for him. She didn't have any money either, and she had had a lot of expenses with the funeral.

It's a shame she couldn't clear out my head like that, he thought. It's a shame she didn't take with her all the memories she had of her best friend. That would have been a relief for him. In fact, it would have freed him from all his suffering. Because no one can give him the answer to the most pressing question: How is he supposed to live with such a burden? He can't even breathe, it hurts so much. It's been days, and soon it will be weeks, but nothing has changed. He rolled onto his side because he was starting to have trouble breathing. Here we go again.

Alone, which means that his head took over the helm and started working at full speed. And he and his ship are slowly but inevitably sinking into that stinking, decaying swamp of thoughts. So many years of nothing, and now it's back again. And because he had no one with him to pull him out of this state, which had just started a flow of destructive thoughts, before the engine in his head started running at full speed, he felt it coming at him like a tsunami wave. He was overcome with heat and panic rose within him. Blood pounded furiously in his temples and his head buzzed. He breathed jerkily and shallowly, as if something in his chest had tied his lungs in a straitjacket.

When he couldn't breathe anymore, he sat up and tried to take a deep breath. It didn't work; he just wheezed like a consumptive. Just calm down, think of something nice, Ondra's words flashed through his mind, as he always said to him in these situations. But now it didn't help, because he couldn't hear them, he was just parroting them to himself. He quickly thought about where Nika said she had put the bronchial thing. Nowhere. It was lying next to him on the nightstand; he must have used it yesterday.

He could just reach over, pick up the little thing, and breathe in from it. It had saved him so many times, that little plastic thing. He hesitated and froze. Suddenly, he was lying there, not moving. He wondered what would happen if he left it like that. He did nothing, on purpose. The moment he made that decision, after many days, he felt incredible relief and a deep peace within himself. That's it. He had made up his mind. Reconciliation covered him like a soft blanket all over his body.

His brain approved, his consciousness wanted it, and his heart was already looking forward to the black tunnel behind Ondra. But there was an obstacle he hadn't counted on. He forgot the most important thing, and that was his body. His own body thwarted his brilliant idea that was supposed to solve everything. As soon as he decided not to do anything to save himself, the straitjacket disappeared from his lungs and he could breathe freely. He would have cried if he could. But he was too exhausted for that.

He curled up into a ball and pulled the blanket with soccer balls on it over himself.