Echo of the Past

17. Marcin

Translator: Schiotka

Editor: Pasadera, JacquelineMonaie

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The door, which only a few days ago had seemed like a gateway to freedom, opened with impetus.

"Oh... you look absolutely terrible," said the fair-haired man as a means of greeting, standing in the doorway. There was no sign of compassion in his tone. He spoke in Norwegian.

The man feigned a concerned expression for a moment, then stretched his mouth wide into an unpleasant smile.

The owner of the apartment grimaced. He gave the man a disdainful look, brimming with animosity. Without a word, he beckoned the man inside with a tilt of his head.

"Why such a long face?" said the fair-haired man cheerfully, entering with a light and springy step. Still with that ironic smile stitched to his face. "It's not that bad, they didn't have to sew it back on," he continued, approaching the long-haired model.

Niklas limped cautiously to the sofa in the center of the room. He sat down, legs spread wide apart.

"Give me my money and get the fuck out, Winter. I'm not in the mood to listen to your sick psychotic babble. It's not worth the money."

"Hmm... you're right," the light-haired man replied in a silky voice. "This wasn't worth the money. My boy gave me a lot more entertainment than you did."

"What...?" the man recoiled in surprise. "What do you mean?"

"What you probably already expected. You didn't complete your end of the contract. And so, I don't owe you anything." Winter smiled with a sick satisfaction.

"You wouldn't dare, you son of a bitch..." Niklas said through clenched teeth, staring at the other man with wild eyes.

Winter didn't allow him to finish, silencing him with a raised hand.

"I didn't finish, so shut up," he said, his voice turning cold. He looked down at him from beneath lowered eyelids. "I would watch my mouth if I were you. I get angry fast, and when angered I do stupid things. I could, for example... accidentally make a particular film public, in which... a man tries to rape another man. And just imagine, if one of those men happened to look uncannily like you, Niklas."

Winter spoke with an arrogant smirk lighting his face, gesticulating with his hands. He started to pace around the room, continuing his speech:

"Rape. Man. Faggot. It doesn't sound good now, does it? It would destroy your career, for which you've sweated tirelessly... You would lose your job, and that in turn would snowball into things of which I shouldn't need to remind you."

Niklas' chin quivered in suppressed anger. He tightened his fists.

"I can see I've made you nervous... totally unnecessary. You're going to get wrinkles, and collagen is expensive," Winter added, approaching him and touching his cheek.

His tone suddenly changed, turning dispassionate.

"In a sense you gave me what I wanted, so I'll keep my end of the bargain. Connected with work. Not money. You'll get some of the money if you have what I asked for. Do you have it?"

"I do."

"Beautiful," Winter responded melodically. "You are naive, but you can be useful when you want to be. You will come to see me tomorrow and I'll give you the promised cash. I wasn't in the mood to carry it with me today. So, where is it?"

"On the shelf."

"Merveilleux."

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