LAMIAE

CHAPTER NINETEEN: PHOTOGRAPHS

"Maybe next time you'd think about knocking before entering my room?" hissed Dagmara. Her eyes reflected all the negative emotions she had to deal with a moment ago.

"I'll not only think, I'll let you know," Alan seemed to know how she felt, but that didn't stop him from being sarcastic.

"Why did you come here?!" Dagmara's voice, in turn, resembled the barking of a mad dog. "You know very well that I'd rather you leave already," she added, throwing herself onto the bed.

He didn't answer for so long that she actually thought he had listened to her and got out. When she calmed down a bit, she turned her head to the side. Unfortunately, he was still in the room. He stood over the furniture, examining one by one her pictures, which she had arranged on one of the shelves.

" You shouldn't look at these," she growled. If she hadn't felt so bad, she would have rushed over to him and snatched the photographs from his hand.

"Why?" he asked quite politely, not even taking his eyes off from looking at her photos. The thought just crossed her mind that she probably hadn't sorted the photos into those that were only for her to see and those that her friends or grandma could see.

"Because it's private," she squeaked, jumping off the bed.

He was prepared for it. He took all the photos in one hand and held them up.

"Don't you think that since you put the photos everywhere, someone might want to see them?" she couldn't pinpoint why, but it sounded like an insult. As if he had just scolded her for not guarding her personal belongings carefully enough.

"I don't care what you think, I can do what I want," she murmured, though she paled slightly at the thought that grandma might see a picture of her drinking champagne on New Year's Eve or falling asleep in the dorm on the bed of her ex- and so far only boyfriend. These pictures were for her use, only hers.

"I want them back," she said formally, extending her hand toward him. She wasn't going to jump to get them because he was too tall.

"When I see all of them, I assure you I'll give them back," he replied, deliberately turning his back on her. "You had blond hair when you were little," he revealed the observation half to her, half to himself. "You've led an interesting life by the way. Every photo is a party. Every photo, you're drunk."

She told herself that he was deliberately teasing her, so she gritted her teeth hard and went back to her bed and sat there. "That's not true. I haven't been partying much," she wanted to add that her life was just getting started, that she was just about to start meeting friends in pubs, go with lots of boys on dates, when she heard about her mother's illness. For almost entire first year of high school, she cut herself off from the world. She should say that only here, in Kielce, will she try to arrange her life anew, but these words stuck in her throat. At the moment, she hated Kielce, hated everything about this mansion.

"You're angry," Alan said confidently. "Angry at them."

"Angry at you," she corrected him, but he only smiled.

He must have concluded that the photos were at a safe distance from her, because he sat down on a chair squatted on her dressing table and finished browsing. When he got to the last one, he raised an eyebrow, but he didn't say anything, just put them all back on the shelf after a few seconds, in the place from where he got them.

"You don't have any other photos here, do you?" he asked, but she only shook her head, adding to herself that, luckily, she left the rest at home in Warsaw. "You should be angry." He suddenly returned to their previous conversation. "Actually, I shouldn't be telling you this, but they're all lying to you."

"And you're the only one I should believe?" she asked, almost laughing in his face.

"If you want, I can keep quiet," he began in a perfunctory tone of voice. "Your grandma will tell you someday..."

She couldn't tell directly if he did it on purpose, because he heard whispers downstairs and simply repeated the words after someone, or if he did it just by accident, but he interested her too much to let him go without explanation.

"Wait," he had already gone to the door, but obediently turned around. "Why did you say that? Did you hear those words in the living room?"

"Maybe. Or maybe I just know there's something you still need to find out."

"What?" his expression was unidentifiable, and she wanted so badly to be able to read his face. He didn't answer her question. He glanced towards the door, as if checking to make sure no one was eavesdropping.

"Tell me, but be honest," he began, again walking deeper into the chamber, towards her. He wasn't whispering, but he wasn't talking as loud as before either. "Haven't you noticed that they're hiding something from you? That they're not telling the truth?"

Yes, many times, she summed up in her mind, remembering how it was already on the way from the train station to the villa, she thought that Casper had his secret, which he didn't want to reveal. Then, many times, she found out that she was not treated like a real family member here. On the one hand, they were nice, but they lied about things to her face, she was sure of it. Even now she remembered how when she said that the curtains moved, Casper said it was because of the draft.

"Yes, I noticed. It wasn't just them though," she hesitated whether she should go on or let him leave right now.

Alan leaned against the rail of the bed she was sitting on. It was the first time they had talked for so long, and for the first time in a long time, she had had a chance to get a closer look at him. All she could say about him was that he was very handsome, and she doubted there was a single girl in the world who could deny that. In fact, she even wanted to be that one girl, wanted him to turn out to have some kind of flaw, a flaw in his body or mind. She wanted to find something in him that would help her get him out of her head. Unfortunately, the only flaw was the words pouring out of his mouth. As long as he said nothing, he still was far above mediocrity.

"Yes? Do you mean me?" he asked softly, but she wasn't fooled. Beneath his inconspicuousness was something she couldn't trust, like in the proverb about a wolf in sheep's clothing.

"I'm not going to deny that. For example, the fact that you and Arleta recently found out that you are related."

"Who said that?" Judging from his effortless smile, apparently everyone really lied to her.

"First Casper, then Arleta confirmed it."

"But you don't believe them," he said confidently, then straightened up. He seemed more pleased that she didn't trust her friends than disappointed. "Do you believe in magic?" he asked after a moment's thought.

She hadn't expected such a question, so she didn't answer right away. She didn't want to make fun of him or offend him, because judging by today's history lesson, he clearly believed.

"I believe that there are paranormal phenomena in this world, but magic... no, there is no magic among them."

Again, he didn't say anything, just walked over to the furniture where her pictures were. He stared at them for a moment in silence, took them in his hand, and returned to her, throwing them on her bed. As he didn't add anything else, she looked down at the first photo that was closest to her. In the photo, she slept soundly as a baby in a crib. She was two years old at most, and everything in the picture matched; cradle, toys, everything, everything was in its place as she remembered it, except for her hair, which suddenly changed color.

"They're dark," she whispered, though she knew well she had been blonde as a child. It wasn't until she started growing that her hair turned brown.

"Yes, they're dark. Then you only have two choices now," he finally began, backing slowly toward the door. "You might think I used a marker while you weren't looking, which is an impossible theory anyway. Or I replaced the photos that I saw for the first time in my life, or... believe."

As soon as he closed the door behind him, she hurriedly touched the photo with her hand, then immediately looked through the others as well. She groaned when she noticed that the same dark-haired girl was smiling at her in all the photographs.