บท 9: Encounter with the Beast
Andrzej did not think. He did not wait to see what would happen next. He exaggerated the distance between the two houses and burst into Śliwiński's salon.
"Leave him, you bastard!" He screamed and punched Marczak's head with his fist.
The man rolled down from the actor trying to figure out the situation.
"You better get the fuck out of here, I've already called the cops!"
Surprised, Marczak stumbled towards the exit and after a while there was no trace of him.
"Are you all right?" Andrzej leaned over Śliwiński lying on his belly.
Silly question. Nothing was right. His shirt was pulled up and his pants and underwear were pulled to the knees. Śliwiński tried to get up, but his body was not able to do it under the pain or shock.
"Don't move" Andrzej was afraid that he reacted too late. "I'll call an ambulance ..."
"No! Please."
"But ..."
"Please, it's nothing serious. I just ..."
He slowly sat up, covering his manhood. He did not dare to look above floor level.
Andrzej did not know what to do. He was afraid that Śliwiński might have been seriously injured, in the end this fall looked really dangerous, but he could not force him to go to the hospital, where they asked questions.
"Who you are?" The actor still couldn't look up from the floor.
"I'm the asshole who took your pictures. Andrzej Nowicki. I saw what happened and ..."
"Thank you."
Śliwiński's voice was weak and trembling.
"I know you have no reason to trust me, but ..."
"Can you help me up?" Asked a soft question.
"Yes of course."
Andrzej approached Śliwiński and helped him get up. The actor gritted his teeth so as not to groan in pain as his body shifted position. He'll probably be pretty bruised, but he doesn't seem to have anything broken. Nevertheless, he should see a doctor.
"Maybe I'll take you to the hospital after all ..."
"No. Can you help me up the stairs? I want to go to bed."
"As you wish."
"Thank you."
Andrzej threw his arm over his shoulder and embraced his waist. With the other hand, Śliwiński held up his pants.
"Did you call the police? He asked as they walked towards the stairs.
"I was bluffing, there was no time. I'll do it as soon as I walk you to your bedroom."
"Please don't do this."
"But he ... It was an assault."
"No" Śliwiński turned his head.
Denial, a typical reaction from victims of domestic violence and sexual violence. Shame it happened to them. That is why the torturers felt unpunished. On the other hand, is it possible to expect someone who has been treated so brutally to have the courage to relive this nightmare?
"As you wish," he agreed without enthusiasm.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the curvature of the actor's lips that might have been a pale smile of gratitude. These lips trembled and Andrzej thought that Śliwiński was fighting tears. Emotions and pain must have torn his whole being, but he could not afford such a weakness. Not with a stranger.
When they got to the bedroom, the actor fell heavily on the bed. His body began to tremble.
"Should I call someone?"
"No thanks."
"I'll make a strong tea. It's good for nerves."
"Mh ... The cups are ..."
"I know where.'
"Ah yes…"
"I'll put the water on. If you need anything, shout out."
Śliwiński just nodded.
I have to get out of here, Andrzej thought as he left the bedroom. I have to leave him alone, maybe then he will let himself cry. Damn, what exactly happened? How did it all come about?
Andrzej walked away a few steps and stopped listening. A disturbing silence answered him.
Maybe Śliwiński is also listening and waiting for his steps to be silent in the distance?
The photographer went down to the kitchen and put on the water. He took out two mugs and placed a teabags in them.
The kitchen in which he saw Śliwiński so many times had no secrets for him. He knew how strong he liked his Earl Gray and how much sugar he poured into her. Leaning on the kitchen counter, Andrzej wondered how it had all happened and what would have happened if he hadn't reacted. But the most terrible thought was that it might not be the first time.
"Animal," he vented his fury. "Fucking beast!"
How could anyone do something like that? How could you use your strength so brutally, hit, overpower, and then… After all, they were a couple, not more than two days ago they were united by passion, maybe love. For Andrzej, the whole situation was sick. If he, only a witness to these events, was shocked by Marczak's cruelty, how could Śliwiński, his victim, feel?
Nowicki looked up. The silence disturbed him. What if the actor got hit more than it seemed at first glance and lost consciousness? Shouldn't he go upstairs and check?
He heard the faint rush of water. The actor's bedroom and private bathroom were above the kitchen. Was Śliwiński taking a shower? Very likely. Andrzej would not be surprised if he wanted to wash off that man.
Bloody bastard!
Nowicki remembered the face from that photo, full of love and ecstasy, sincere and beautiful. Immediately after that, today's terror and pain obscured her. One has to be the meanest of creatures to hurt someone so beautiful and gentle.
The kettle whistled, snapping him out of his thoughts. He made some tea and went upstairs with both cups.
"Knock knock," he called, both of his hands full.
He heard no answer, but the stream of water was clearly heard from behind the door. What if he fainted in the shower, Andrzej got scared.
"Mr. Śliwiński!" He raised his voice.
"Excuse me! Please come in!"
The water stopped. When he was crossing the bedroom door, Śliwiński came out of the bathroom, dressed in a dark bathrobe. Water was dripping from his wet hair onto his collar. He was calmer and even dared to look at the photographer for a moment. His eyes the color of the purest blue were still staring uncertainly, and his cut lips were slightly trembling, which ignited Andrzej's heart with anger. How can anyone want to hurt such a beautiful person?
"Sorry about my outfit." His voice was still low and uncertain. "If it annoys you, I can change ..."
"Don't worry about me," said Andrzej quickly. "How's the hand? Isn't it dislocated?"
"No" Śliwiński lowered his eyes "just a bit battered."
"Get you some painkiller? If you have nothing, I can jump to the pharmacy."
The actor seemed to be considering the offer.
"Thank you, I have something in the nightstand. I guess I haven't thanked you for saving me yet. Thank you."
He did not meet his eyes. Andrzej did not feel offended. It wasn't ingratitude, he guessed, but shame, emotional pain at the memory of events that were not quite in the past yet. Instinctively, Śliwiński covered himself more tightly with his robe, although little was visible except for a small triangle just below his neck.
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