Page 75 of Back Room Host

“Fine!” He was getting on my nerves. “Then I’ll just pick up a new hobby. Eating. Is that good for you?”

“Yes.” Dario didn’t sound particularly happy. “And if you’re already changing your hobbies, stop smoking already!”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“And now get into the ring.”

I was just glad when he brought out the mitts and we finally started. He almost managed to dampen my good mood, but after the first three punches, I found my rhythm and immersed myself in training.

Upon returning home in the late afternoon with two full grocery bags and an audibly grumbling stomach, I entered the kitchen to unpack the items from the paper bags. While engaged in this task, a faint noise emanated from the vicinity of Juri's room, which remained shut.

What’s going on?

When the sound recurred, resembling a moderate but insistent knocking from within, I approached Juri's door with cautious curiosity. Tentatively, I knocked and grasped the handle, but there was no response.

Should I just go in?

As I heard another muffled noise, I hastily swung the door open, but it was blocked by something, leaving only a narrow gap of about seven inches.

“Juri? Everything okay?”

I peered through the narrow opening and spotted him lying on the floor, his eyes rolling back, body convulsing as if seized by some unseen force. With a surge of adrenaline, I forced the door open wider, jostling Juri aside as I hurried to his side. He looked just as pallid as he had earlier at the hospital, emitting a wheezing sound from his mouth.

Damn! Is he just dying?

What’s happening?

His sight catapulted me back to the rooftop. Juri’s face distorted before my eyes, and I saw Jérôme in front of me. Although he was three floors below me, I saw the blood that had trickled from his mouth, the lifeless eyes, the terror on his face. My body froze, something tightened my throat, and my breath became erratic. A chill of ice shot through my veins.

No! This isn’t Jérôme.

I rubbed my eyes, trying to wipe the seventeen-year-old boy from my confused thoughts.

Get a grip!

That’s long over.

But I couldn’t. It wasn’t until a gasping sound from Juri brought me back to the present. With trembling hands, I grabbed his shoulder and shook him. My eyes fell on the scarf knotted around his neck. It didn’t appear to be a suicide attempt; he lay there with his eyes closed, a smile spreading across his face. God! He looked utterly content! And gradually, the pieces started to fall into place in my mind.

What the hell …? Did he actually intend this?

He lay there, his head tilted to the side, and his breathing became regular again. The reassurance that he was alright did little to ease the tension, and I sank back against the bed.

“What have you done?” I heard my teacher scream.

Her voice was distant because all I could see was Jérôme down there, in the schoolyard. A dark red pool had formed around his head. The teachers were pushing back the other students; a few girls were crying, and others were pointing up at me.

Jérôme’s face burned into my retina, and I knew: Everything was going to be different now. But inside, I was torn.

On one hand, I felt relief and a liberating feeling. No one would ever again yank out my hair and flaunt the brown tufts like trophies. No one would ever again kick me in the stomach until I lost consciousness or knocked out another tooth.

But on the other hand, I was gripped by sheer panic. My body was in shock. My breath caught, and not even my heart seemed to be beating anymore. I knew I had just done something terribly wrong, yet I was completely unable to reconcile this fact with my conscience.

You’re not helpless anymore,an inner voice said to me.

This is the end of everything,another said.You’re a murderer!

Someone roughly grabbed my wrist and dragged me along. It was my class teacher, who had claimed for years that she was on my side.

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