From the history of mannequins. Mannequin - Stories about the strange and incomprehensible

The darkness constrained his movements, interfered with thinking and suppressed his will. The fear of the dark grew stronger and stronger in him since childhood. Nestled somewhere near the ceiling and closely watched the boy. It always seemed to him that he was alive. Fear is a semblance of a human shadow, which has all the signs of a living being. Of course, this kind of concern was considered unfounded, but, nevertheless, it was often transmitted to the father and especially to the mother. The parents were forced to leave the light in the children's room, and the boy, nervously fidgeting and turning from one side to the other, fell asleep.

And again a deserted place. Somewhere high overhead, the lamps were charged, and it became a little calmer. The conveyor stopped for a few minutes. The gears of the mechanism screeched with a heartbreaking sound. Roman Shvedov stretched himself into a string. He bit his lower lip painfully and felt his body slowly goose bumps. Time slowed down, turning into an endless television series. Looking at the slender row of mannequins in the semi-dark room of the workshop, he fiddled with the belt of his uniform trousers. He's at the parade tonight. Dressed with a needle, as if tomorrow for a wedding - just for your own or someone else's? He didn’t know, nor did he know what he was doing here. The mannequins ... Freshly painted and polished, they seemed to glow in the dark. Apparently, only males were here. Unnaturally fit, like in comics or American films, where actors are stuffed with dope all over the place. They still had no clothes on, and they stood in what the mother machine created, put it on the conveyor and ordered menacingly: "Serve!" And the mannequins, as if agreeing with the order, nodded in unison. Romka was taken aback. Just in case, he pinched his hand and rubbed the bridge of his nose. Fuh ... It seemed to be.

Shvedov swallowed almost audibly and came closer. The dim lamps made an annoying hum. The air smelled of burned plastic. Small particles of dust settled in the nasopharynx, causing an irresistible urge to sneeze. but

the young man, overcoming his irritation, took another cautious step forward and found himself next to the conveyor belt. Eyes feverishly wandered over a hundred, no, even a thousand mannequins. Suddenly the gaze settled on one

“How similar,” Shvedov whispered dryly.

This mannequin was different from other "brethren". He looked more toned, with great biceps and abs. There are even moles and acne on the face. “It is not appropriate for such a handsome man in the future to stand in a shabby store and play the role of a hanger. I will find you a place much

better, Roman thought. He looked around and was about to pull off the dummy, when the conveyor suddenly came to life and drove the line of dummies into infinity.

At first, Romka tried to keep up with the conveyor belt, he ran as fast as he could, trying not to lose sight of his copy. But then she imperceptibly merged with the others, and he belatedly realized that he had lost "himself" forever ...

Dressed in a white shirt, black trousers and shoes, Roman stood as usual at his post. His legs had become numb for a long time, and his back hadn't stopped hurting for a year, but he still, with all his might, kept a semblance of joy on his face. He did not perceive buyers with their captious interest in gold and silver at all, aimlessly wandering his gaze through the sparkling shop windows. There is nothing surprising here, because almost three years have passed since he left a well-known trading company, where he worked as an ordinary loader.

Immediately I switched to jewelry and left behind dirty, sweat-soaked clothes and poorly paid work. "Over the years, you look at many things easier, at something you completely close your eyes."

Roman waited for the last obese lady to acquire an expensive necklace, and went to the glass door of the store. The forty-degree heat literally incinerated all living things. People were woozy, gasping for air. It was chilly on the ground floor of a three-story jewelry store. His chair was right in front of the annoying split system, ready to freeze everything day and night. The novel was a little afraid of her and preferred to bypass it. If he could, he would have bypassed a lot in his life. Take, for example, their office - it's a moral torture chamber!

Every day before the start of the watch, the security guards of their agency gathered there. The building was located in the city center and was located near the main protected objects. Of the “lucky ones” who stood at attention every day in the basement of the office, day after day they “raised” real security guards. Which of them was considered at least half "real", Roman could hardly imagine, ignoring the emasculated speech of the head of security.

- So, jerks, you are not here to sleep, sadly nodding your manes to me! Shouted a beefy security guard in a white shirt that tightly hugged his broad-shouldered figure. The big man was somewhat reminiscent of Roman's special agent Hobbs from the movie "Fast and the Furious". He spoke tediously, but to the point. His monologue was enlivened only by swear words addressed to the guards. Fascinating expressions invariably brought the "mannequins" out of their torpor, and they began to laugh somehow unnaturally. One day, wishing to diversify a boring speech, Roman asked Hobbs:

- And what should be a real guard?

Colleagues hissed at Shvedov, but it was too late - the chief's speech dragged on for another twenty minutes. It turned out that a real guard must be perfect inside and out. In addition to the main duties: to maintain order, discipline and prevent theft at the facility,

there were others. Roman sighed heavily and, closing his eyes for a second, began to say to himself: to be able to provide first aid, in the event of a fire, take measures to eliminate the source of fire, in case of a terrorist attack, upon detection of suspicious objects and parcels ... Everywhere must, must, must, must ... Yes What am I, a cop or a superman, who, according to the genre, is supposed to save the world? The guards, according to the instructions, are forbidden even to talk. And it remains to stand stupidly and devour the visitors with their eyes, with lean faces looking at the jewelry. How sick it was! To work for a meager salary, to be exemplary and at the same time seem to be a scarecrow - an ordinary ordinary dummy, which are stamped in thousands by security agencies. Does the work of a security guard seem so simple in appearance that it is a pity to give half of the police salary for him?

A pretty girl burst into the store at full speed. Sellers, as luck would have it, were not around. Not knowing who to turn to, she glanced sideways at the guard.

- Excuse me, do you have pendants with colored stones?

- Well, what about wedding rings in silver?

What is the difference between a wedding ring and a usual one, Shvedov did not know. And in general, over the past three days, he has not spoken to anyone. Even with my parents. It was too late when I got home from work.

“I see,” the blonde rapped out and immediately left the store. Roman did not even have time to say to her the usual "Goodbye" in such cases. It was as if a cleaning lady appeared from under the ground. The woman looked sixty, but her tired face was considered beautiful by many of the store employees.

- Have you swallowed your tongue?

- Did you see how she expressed her feelings?

- And how did she blush a little?

- I have not seen.

- You at least learn to talk. All you can do is: "I have not seen, I do not know." What kind of security guard are you?

- What is, - Roman sighed and again went to the door.

- So, why did you lean against the glass? Don't you appreciate my work?

She deftly ran her mop across the rug near the entrance, forcing Roman to retreat to the chair.

“I’d sit like that all day, otherwise you stomp at the door — you scare the people.

- How's that? - Roman was surprised.

Claudia gave him a picky look. His clean-shaven head and broad shoulders inevitably raised fear. If only it were not for a kind look, he would have been like a thug.

- Come on, after all, according to the instructions, I have to stand in the doorway, and sit on a chair only when I'm tired or there are no visitors.

- Wow!

Aunt Klava straightened up and put the mop in the corner:

- And all my life I have been washing floors without instructions. And nothing. Nobody complains.

- There are simply no textbooks for you.

“You don’t have brains,” Aunt Klava continued to mop the floors with a heavy sigh. - All you do is that you stand for days like an idol. The benefits are zero. You only wipe the jamb with your clothes well. Look - it shines better than my rag! Young, handsome. I would find myself a good job, marry a beautiful woman and nurse the kids.

"If not for that miscarriage, I would have been nursing a long time ago," the guard thought gloomily. He really was going to get married. He made an offer to his slender darling, presented an expensive ring and kissed him sweetly. Sophia and Rasta Yala in his arms. They almost believed they would be happy. If only it weren't for this "almost". It pulsed rhythmically in the brain and ate it from the inside. Romka gritted his teeth. I remembered her betrayal. When she called her lover with him and left. Each time she left him, leaving the door open. And through this door their relationship fell through. Almost four years of confessions, hopes and warmth that cannot be returned. After their loud parting, Sophia had a miscarriage. She hated Roman. That's it, the warmth is over. The first crusts of ice appeared in it. The guard frowned, got up from his chair and froze by the doorframe. A customer entered the store.

- Wow, I thought you were not real, you look like a dummy!

“I know,” the guard said sadly and straightened the collar of his shirt. Someone thinks better when he cuts circles from point A to point B. Someone likes to fiddle with a belt or feel an unshaven chin. And he liked to turn into a statue. Or didn't you like it? In any case, it really felt better that way.

“Like a dummy,” she repeated, barely audible.

“I’ve been told this more than once,” he whispered after the woman ascending to the second floor, and thought to himself: “Maybe I really am a dummy? A plastic outcast who was placed at the entrance to scare away drunks and beggars? "

Romka grunted and took his usual position.

“Look like a mannequin,” the young man said to his girlfriend, jabbing a finger at the thoughtful Roman.

“In the impersonal world of human procurement, a person acquires an inexplicable feeling of loss, a feeling that life has exhausted itself, and every second person has become a slave.”

- Yes, not a dummy, but a living person. I'm alive! - blurted out, unable to bear it, Shvedov. The salespeople looked at him sympathetically, but said nothing, continuing their conversations. They were allowed to talk, but according to the instructions, he was not. Yes I would go ... This instruction! And, going to the bedside table, he pulled out a pile of sheets and threw it into the trash can.

- Look what! I just threw out all the garbage, and he already crap, ”the cleaner muttered.

- Aunt Klava, they shit, sitting behind a bush at an abandoned construction site in the company of spiders, ticks and hungry dogs.

- And you have a sense of humor.

- There is! - Roman smiled for the first time in many years.

Inwardly, he was jubilant. And although it was practically not expressed on the outside, from the inside, he gradually thawed. Good mood whetted my appetite. Of all the joys of life at work, the only thing that remains is to eat and look at the plump hips of an unfamiliar "princess" who has come to the light. Romka shrugged his shoulders, nodded to the salespeople and disappeared into the back room.

The dim light of a small room was illuminated by two small tables. Behind the one on the right was usually the director, who liked to communicate with Moscow for a long time. The director's chair was empty today. On the table there is only a pile of papers and a constantly ringing telephone. At the second table, employees gathered at lunchtime, indulging themselves with delicacies. Roman's menu, as usual, was considered meager - soup without a hint of meat or boiled sausages with sauerkraut. Sometimes he took potatoes or eggs with him.

After reheating his lunch in the microwave, he swallowed a weighty piece of sausage and choked. It's good that a mug of water was next to me. The guard drank a little from it and pushed the mischief into a gurgling stomach.

The cell phone in my belt vibrated. Roman looked at the incoming call. They called from the office.

- We need to go to a part-time job today on the night shift. For furniture, next to your house.

"Necessary. This is a bad word. Is this "necessary" for you or is it me? Do you think I need money? No, they are needed, of course, but not to such an extent - I have been working for the second month without days off. Are you suggesting that I exchange my dream for work? "

- I'll pay triple. Agree, Swedes.

- I agree.

Roman agreed even before he thought: “Why is this our greedy office offering me extra money? Something is wrong here. " The boss hastily said goodbye to him and hung up.

A few hours later, Shvedov crossed the threshold of a huge furniture store, and he immediately got an unpleasant chill. Numerous split-systems pumped devilish cold. Romka shivered and looked around. The salon was filled with luxurious sofas and beds. Kitchen sets, tables and chairs huddled in the corners. Everywhere, as in Africa, towered huge palms in wicker tubs. “Only monkeys are not enough,” Roman grinned.

The door lock clicked behind him, and, looking around, the guard saw the door blinds slowly lowering behind him. The briefing was carried out in full on all two floors. He has a rubber stick, handcuffs and an inoperative flashlight from special means. "Well, why do I need it?" Shvedov tapped the door with his flashlight - it would suddenly start working - and began to examine the blinds. Soon they froze with a grinding noise. An aching feeling of confined space fell upon Roman. The shop light was on only in the narrow corridor that led to the toilet. The darkness seemed to come closer with every second. Trying to free himself from her oppression, Shvedov went towards the light.

The couches and beds seemed to be watching him closely, hiding invisible creatures behind them. Romka remembered how the changed guard jokingly mentioned the brownie, and pulled out a rubber stick from the cone:

- Who is hiding here, huh?

He couldn't wait to break the oppressive silence. At home, being alone, Roman loved to listen to his favorite music or leave the TV turned on until the morning. Here, except for the faint hum of split systems, he heard nothing. Is that just your steps. Shvedov looked at the dial of his wristwatch, glowing in the dark. It took only five minutes, but it seemed like an eternity. "If you don't cheer up now, I'll just go nuts by morning."

At the far end of the room, one of the sofas creaked suspiciously, as if someone had sat down on it. Romka tensed. Hunched over, he leaned over the huge bed with Gothic chandeliers and peered into the darkness. “That damned darkness again! She seems to be following me. "

- Is there anyone here?

A rolling echo rolled through the hall. Another sofa creaked. Roman jumped in surprise and, jumping over the bed, pressed himself to the floor. Closing his eyes, he confusedly recited the prayer, then opened his eyes again and carefully peered over the bed.

- What other games? Have you decided to play with me?

Roman felt the empty cone with his hand and shuddered.

"Apparently I dropped the stick when I was jumping over the bed." Walking around the bed, he stared at the white mark on the floor. If not for the light from the hallway, he would not have noticed it. Roma sat down and carefully examined the white mark, as if from a whitewash. Just half an hour ago, when he was shown an object, he passed here and even in bright light did not notice anything. Most likely, the trail has just appeared. Just a couple of minutes ago. It looked like a footprint, slightly blurry and insignificant in size, but clearly human.

Horror gripped Roman, and he rushed to the switches. At the turn, he caught on the sofa and fell to the floor with a crash. Roma crumpled as if he was being strangled. Perspiration covered her face. Beads of sweat crept to the tiled floor over the hot skin. Suddenly, something very close to him plopped to the floor.

For Shvedov, the floor turned into a red-hot frying pan. He jumped up like a scalded one and in two leaps was at the wall with switches. Having clicked them all, he howled and, turning to the audience, pressed his back against the wall.

Shvedov looked around the dead room and, not finding anyone, walked briskly towards the "Gothic" bed. His stick lay next to him as if nothing had happened. The guard picked it up and, turning it in his hands, asked loudly:

- And where are you now? Hidden away? Know I am not afraid of you!

And as soon as he said this, a frightened cat jumped out from under the bed like a bullet.

- Oh, you infection!

Roman swung and threw the rubber stick at the beast.

- I almost lost my mind because of you!

Wanting to find the animal, Shvedov wandered for a long time between the sofas. The cat seemed to have disappeared without a trace. Roma walked the whole object up and down, even looked into the tubs with palm trees - to no avail.

A day spent in a jewelry store reminded of myself with unbearable back pain. His arms and legs ached, and when his head stopped thinking, Shvedov looked into the security room. On the table rested a pile of old reports, a mug with leftover tea, and a pack of cigarettes. Trying to distract himself, Roman sat down on a wobbly chair and began to draw a cheerful face on each sheet. “You haven't talked to anyone for a long time, have you? According to the instructions, it is forbidden to talk, but getting stupid every day is not encouraged. " He finished drawing and, grabbing the sheets and pins lying on the table, returned to the hall. In the center of the room, the sofas stood next to each other, forming a regular circle. Shvedov made his way into the middle of the hall and began to attach a painted face to the back of each chair with a pin.

- So, you will be called Clever, - Roma nodded to his face with a grin more like a fright. A more rational name never entered my head. For now, anyway. - You, one-eyed comrade, will be called Vasily, and you, my wrinkled friend, - he turned to the next face, - you will be Fred. Do you want to be a foreigner? Down with the States? Where to shove them? No-oh ... You shouldn't have been! Okay, let's call you Fedya. Normal Russian name.

"Fedor" agreed and nodded. A novel to a sudden

the revival of the chair was not at all surprised. He seemed to have expected it.

- You, - Shvedov winked at the plump woman's face, - I will have Aunt Klava. In life, I hardly communicate with her. A strict and educated cleaning lady under communism.

She can hang me for every "wrong" word. So it is unlikely that it will be possible to talk to her in this life.

- Well, you, - Roma turned to the last chair and attached the most neatly and competently drawn face to it, - you will be Maxim.

After a few seconds, all the chairs became speechless and began to argue loudly. From their conversation, the guard realized that the cat made his way into the furniture salon from the street through the window, which was still open. It looks like his partner didn't hand over his shift properly.

- According to the instructions, he must ...

- Nobody owes anything to anyone, remember, student! - the painted face of Maxim was distorted with anger. The surging emotions added red. It seemed a little more - and the face "floats".

- Instructions, and all these dusty Talmuds, are needed for beginners. No wonder you threw it out. But physical action is not backed up by internal rejection. How long have you been working?

“Three years,” Shvedov hesitated.

- For so many years the guy has been plowing like a damn, knows all the protected objects, entrances and exits, loopholes, tricks and cannot get away from damned formalities!

- I'm exemplary! - Roman boasted.

“You're an idiot if you think so. Your face in the office photo is for show. They wanted to sneeze at your "exemplarity". Well, tell me, have you received any prize or badge during these three years?

Roman lowered his head. He felt his ears turn red. Out of shame, he was ready to fail on the spot:

- So, the work in the security should not result in torment?

- Of course! You can wear other shoes, not "according to the charter," but so that they do not sting, you can buy water and drink it right at the workplace, and not endure it, looking longingly at your watch. You can write something at the post, compose, fantasize, talk, sing when no one is around. Live. Live right where you are, for your life is priceless. She is alone, and it is so simple, to sell it cheaply, receiving only torment in return - it is unfair and wrong.

- But what about the textbooks and instructions for the guards? - Shvedov did not calm down.

"Maxim" became crimson red:

- They are a-hundred-re-whether!

Roman closed his ears and took a few steps back. His assumptions turned out to be correct. Every day he lost his uniqueness and originality. He has few friends, and even those are some lifeless. Furniture monsters, revived in his fantasies, seemed to replace his real friends. In fact, he communicated with himself, but thinking and speaking are not the same thing.

“About humanity,” he turned to the penultimate chair with the face of Aunt Klava.

“You’re all right with that,” the cleaning lady replied.

- Well, good.

The novel suddenly came to his senses:

- Will you show me where the door is?

- No. After all, we are ordinary chairs and we have no legs, "Aunt Klava said in an apologetic voice.

- I know what to do! - Shvedov blurted out.

Roman tore off the sheets from the backs of the chairs and walked towards the security room. Sitting down at the table, he grabbed a cigarette from a crumpled pack and suddenly remembered that he did not smoke, and it was not allowed to smoke in the room. Clicking

Using a computer mouse on the video images of cameras installed on all two floors, Roman really noticed the slightly open door.

After knocking on the table with a flashlight, Shvedov was surprised to find that it was working.

- Great!

Then he took out a rubber stick and purposefully walked to the far end of the hall. Near the utility rooms was a spiral staircase leading to the second floor, and directly opposite it was an inconspicuous door. Roman, as required by the instructions, gently pushed her with a rubber stick and went inside. With a powerful flashlight, Roman illuminated an abandoned kitchen table, several nightstands and a refrigerator. A small window with iron bars was wide open. The warm July breeze penetrated inside and brought with it the aroma of barbecue and drunken voices.

He went to the window and tried to close it. Suddenly a hairy man's hand stuck out of the window. A drunken, rough voice tore all his reverie from him:

- Give me a light!

Roman screamed. He broke free and, grabbing a rubber stick, hit his arm with all his might. The drunken man began to curse him. Then he began banging on the wall. Roman seized the moment and closed the window. The blows rained down one after another, but Shvedov did not seem to hear them. He struggled to understand what had just happened to him.

He decided not to tell anyone about what had happened. When several days passed, he had another dream.

Roman Shvedov found himself at the factory again. He saw familiar machines, a huge conveyor belt, and old tables where workers had left their belongings. Roman walked slowly to the conveyor belt, on which stood the familiar mannequins. Trying to find himself among them, he walked along the mechanism, gazing intently at the identical faces of the blank guards. After walking two hundred meters, he came across a booth in which a dim light was burning. Roman wanted to go around her at first, but then he saw the slightly open door and mechanically reached for the handle. The door opened by itself.

Shvedov entered the booth and stared at the dusty dashboard. The numerous levers and toggle switches fascinated him. As a child, he loved to play with a toy crane. Moving the arrow, he, holding his breath, watched how the little stubborn man lifted a heavy load. Shvedov and reached for the dashboard. None of the buttons were signed. True, some of them had significantly less dust, so the guard took advantage of them. The conveyor instantly came to life. Shvedov carefully twisted the levers and randomly clicked on several dimly glowing buttons. The conveyor creaked and drove the endless line of dummies in the opposite direction. Shvedov perfectly remembered that in the last dream, undressed mannequins went to the far end of the workshop. Now they were returning half dressed and dyed.

The guard pressed against the dull glass to get a better look at the mannequins. Five minutes later, when he saw himself, he pulled back and began to look for the usual red button.

He glanced quickly at his moving copy. This time she was dressed in a solid suit. Romka pressed the coveted button on the side of the panel, and the conveyor reluctantly stopped. Shvedov sighed with relief.

The young man left the booth and went to the mannequins. This time, not only the mannequin's eyes seemed alive. His whole face looked real. The dummy, seeing him, smiled tightly and repeated:

- Good afternoon. We have gold on the second floor. All silver is presented here. You can contact with me any time!

Roman approached his double and pushed him slightly. The clone began to confuse the words, and then fell silent. Shvedov darkened:

- Come on, tell me what's going on here! I'm talking to you, scarecrow!

The dummy was silent.

Roman made out the barely visible wires under his shirt. So he's a robot? Roman climbed onto the conveyor belt and reached for the wires. The mannequin suddenly came to life. I grabbed his hand and said in an icy tone:

“You are pathetic and weak. Surely I have not gone to the gym for a long time and have consigned to oblivion playing sports.

- How do you know ?! - Roman was surprised.

- I know everything!

- Impossible! You're a doll, clone!

- No, you're the mannequin. You lost interest in life two years ago. You are not surprised at anything, nothing interests you. There is ice in the eyes, and only when you hurt you do you come to life.

- Let go!

Roman, trying to free himself, hit the mannequin in the groin with his knee, but only badly bruised his leg.

- Let go, friend, I beg you ...

- You are nobody to me. I am alive and complete. Now they will install a new version of the program for me and all the shortcomings will disappear from me. I will be more alive than you, do you understand? So it’s you a doll, and I’m alive!

Shvedov tensed and jerked towards the wires sticking out from under the mannequin's shirt, and, catching them, pulled at himself. The mannequin frowned, lifted Roman above him and threw him into the trash bin.

The next morning he felt surprisingly cheerful. And although the pain in the lower back and arms did not subside, Shvedov attributed all this to mild ailments. What he saw in his dream shocked him. At first, he could not even think about anything - only about himself and about the clone. The minibus ride to work was accompanied by unnaturally vigorous and even abrupt movements. He sensitively and promptly answered the driver's questions and very accurately told one passenger how to get to the station. He finally came to his senses already at work.

Leaning, out of habit, against the front door, Roman was talking to a pretty girl. He fiddled with a cell phone and chewed menthol gum. The cleaning lady, contrary to expectations, did not make a single comment to him. At first Shvedov thought that she was ill, but then before

it suddenly dawned on him that it was not her. “It seems like I'm changing for the better. More recently, I would even be afraid to approach a stranger. And now I talk to her as if we have known each other since childhood. "

The security chief entered the store like a ghost. In fact, Slava liked to sneak into the object unnoticed and watch the dismissed guards. But today Roman "burned" him, but, as if nothing had happened, he continued to talk with a girl from the neighboring department named Olya.

- Aren't you ashamed? - Slava asked after a minute.

The novel looked at him ironically:

- Honestly? Not a drop! There are no visitors in the store. The bosses are not visible. Sometimes you need relaxation, don't you think?

Slava's captious glance ran over the bottle of mineral water hidden behind the showcase, over the bag of candies sticking out of Shvedov's pants pocket and finally settled on the embarrassed girl.

- And when did you have time to blossom like that?

- Recently, and what?

Everything was present in this challenge. Shvedov knew very well how the guards behave at other facilities. Compared to them, Roman is still a good guy.

- We'll have to take you off the Honor Board.

- And I thought so. Too long occupied the official place. Year like?

Slava nodded thoughtfully and scratched his chin:

- A record for our agency.

At that moment Olya called out to Shvedov:

“Look there,” she said in a whisper, pointing to the door.

Roman looked out into the street. Another runner in a white T-shirt appeared on the road. On his chest was a proud one. The novel looked at the athlete with envy. Soon others showed up. Unlike the "first", they ran all lathery. Half of them had sheets of paper with numbers peeled off and dangling like price tags. One fat man's "number" nevertheless came off and, caught up in the wind, flew towards the store. The runner did not even notice the loss. Why does he need a number? He was now bathed in the rays of glory - numerous photographers ran up as close as possible and filmed the running crowd.

Roman became sad. Only a hundred meters away someone becomes popular, but he is not visible here. True, there are video cameras that record his every step with mechanical calmness, but what's the point of them? If it remains in any file, then a maximum of a year, and then it will be erased, considering it unnecessary.

Romka picked up a crumpled piece of paper with a number, pinned it directly to his shirt with a pin from his ID. “The second number - just think! Here it is, the opportunity to prove to himself and others that he is not considered shameful. "

Alarmed, Slava glared at him with an icy look:

- What are you up to, "exemplary"? Would you like to take part in this race?

Roman smiled broadly instead of answering. The boss was silent for a while, then he sighed heavily:

- Well then. I give you permission to leave the facility, besides, there is only a couple of hours left to be on duty here ...

Olga followed the senior guard:

- Wait, I'll take a picture of you now.

- A photo for memory? - asked Romka.

- Photo in the magazine, - the girl answered seriously.

And he rushed to the motley crowd of running people. Olga managed to capture his impetuous dash. His gaze shone with hope and a longing for freedom.

Katya and I ran away from the last lesson and went to her house. It's not that I don't like algebra, it's just that it's hard to argue with my best friend. Katya generally did not like to lose in arguments, as well as to study exact sciences, but she adored painting and could draw for hours. Katya dreamed of becoming an artist and saw no reason to master other school subjects.
- Do not lock the door with a key, - asked a friend, entering the house.
I slammed the front door and, going inside, once again admired Katya's house. She and her family lived in a luxurious cottage: beige marble floors glistened with wax, with which they were rubbed, the walls were decorated with paintings by contemporary artists, and a steep spiral staircase led to the second floor from the spacious bright corridor. All our classmates dreamed of living in such a house and secretly envied Katya.
“Now I’ll take my iPad and go to some cafe,” said a friend, going up to the stairs leading to the second floor.
- Katya, you can take a sip of water, my throat is dry, - I asked.
“Of course, there’s a decanter of water in the kitchen,” she answered, collecting her naughty fluffy hair in a high ponytail. “Can I bring you something?”
“Thanks, but I can handle it,” I said, taking off my sneakers.
Katya turned around and began to climb the steps with her shuffling gait. I straightened the waistband of my jeans - because of my thinness, they slipped, exposing my stomach, and went into the kitchen. When I reached the end of the corridor, I stopped and could not move.
- What is it? - I asked, looking at the unfamiliar figure.
Katya stopped in the middle of the stairs and answered:
- Oh, this. Never mind, just Yankin's assistant. At first I was scared of him too, but then I got used to it.
Yana - Katya's older sister worked as a clothing designer, so she often brought various sewing equipment into the house. And if earlier it was a sewing machine or a large folding table, now Yana has surpassed herself.
In the corridor, near a small chest of drawers, leaning against the wall, stood a mannequin. He was wearing dark blue jeans, a white shirt, and a brown leather jacket. A tall figure towered over me, plastic arms outstretched unnaturally. This is the first time I've seen such tall mannequins. Looking at his frozen expression, I shivered. The dummy looked at me haughtily, as if he was dissatisfied with something. I wanted to look away, but I could not and continued to stare at him as if hypnotized.
- Mom will be back from the beauty salon soon, - Katya's voice brought me back to reality. - He will see us at home so early, he will understand that we have escaped from school. So drink the water quickly, and I'll try to find an iPad as soon as possible. Are you listening to me at all?
- Yes, yes, - I averted my eyes from the dummy and looked at Katya.
- I quickly.
Katya ran up the spiral staircase, holding onto the railing. In the meantime, I went to the kitchen, drank some water and returned to the corridor. Sitting on a leather sofa, I began to look through my mail on my phone.
Looking at the screen of my mobile phone, I suddenly experienced a strange sensation. It seemed to me that someone was looking at me. I studied the corridor with my eyes, but did not see anyone, then I began to read the messages again. However, the unpleasant feeling did not go away. I literally felt with my skin that someone was watching me. I raised my head and realized that a mannequin was looking at me, he seemed to be drilling me with his prickly gaze. His head tilted slightly to the right, his protruding chin was lifted, and arrogance slipped through his artificial face. The fact that he was so close made me feel bad.
- And here I am, - on the last step stood a low girl with an iPad in her hands.
- Katya, tell me, how long has Yana brought this mannequin home? - I asked, not looking up from the plastic figure.
- The day before yesterday. She has some kind of design competition there. And now she goes out of her way to win. Completely off the coils. He comes home after work and fumbles with his rags until the evening, and at night he leaves for a new guy. And in the morning back to work. We don't really communicate with her.
- So she got a boyfriend? - I was surprised.
- Appeared. Only she does not introduce him to us, - Katya laced her sneakers and began to open the front door. - He's ashamed of us, probably.
When we went out onto the porch, Katya turned her back on me and began to close the door, indignant at the behavior of her older sister. I listened and agreed.
Suddenly, a shadow flashed through the doorway. A chill ran down my skin, and my throat caught. At first I thought I was imagining it, but the dark silhouette reappeared. Katya, not noticing anything, continued to speak, but I did not hear her, continuing to look into the gap between the door. There was no more shadow, and I thought it was just a game of my imagination, but my intuition told me that something bad was happening in this house.
The next day Katya and I skipped chemistry and spent time with skaters from school one hundred and thirty-eighth until the evening. One of them even made an appointment for Katya, so when we walked back home, my friend was all glowing with happiness. We were standing at my house and began to say goodbye, when suddenly Katya said:
- Light, I forgot to tell you something. Yana asked tomorrow to help her with a dress for the competition. She sews two suits, and the model fell ill at the very last moment. Can you replace it?
- I AM? - I was surprised. - Why can not you?
- We need a tall and thin girl. I don't fit, - Katya spread her hands. - Besides, I have a date tomorrow, and you don't seem to have any plans.
“I don’t even know,” I mumbled, “I’m not sure I can.
I didn't want to go to my friend's house alone. Especially after the last visit, which left an unpleasant aftertaste.
- Please, - Katya looked at me pitifully. - It is very important for Yana to win the competition.
“Okay,” I gave up. - I will come.
I stood at Katya's house and shifted from foot to foot, not daring to enter. The last time left not a very good impression in my memory. Looking at the semicircular steps and the closed dark brown door, I mustered up the courage to ring the bell.
A girl with torn bangs and a dark elongated square opened it to me a couple of minutes later.
- Hey! How glad I am to see you, ”Yana greeted. - Come in.
I went inside and began to take off my sneakers.
- Hey! Katya said you need help.
- Yes, thanks for helping out, - Yana smiled. - The model, who was supposed to come to the fitting today, got sick, and I did not find anyone with such a slender figure as yours.
- Thank you, - I was embarrassed.
- The competition is coming soon, the deadline is running out, and I have only one costume ready.
We climbed up a steep spiral staircase. Yana took me to her room, where she most often refined her patterns and came up with sketches of new dresses. Katina's older sister literally lived by work, it was the first time I met such a passionate person.
“You said that one suit is already ready, and the other is not yet. I thought you were participating in the competition with one type of clothing.
Yana smiled as she grabbed the handle of her room door.
- If you are a beginner, you can present to the jury either a dress or a suit. Only I compete with the professionals, and I need to show two looks: the bride's wedding dress and the groom's wedding suit. And my groom's suit is already ready, but the wedding dress is only half sewn.
With these words, she opened the door to her room, and what I saw, I did not like at all.
Yana really got hung up on the competition, turning her bedroom into a real design studio: the writing desk was littered with pieces of fabric, rulers, spools with multi-colored threads, a plasma TV was hung on the wall, switched to a fashion channel, the bed was strewn with a bunch of clothes, and the bedside the bedside table was adorned with a white sewing machine with gold lettering. However, it was not her "working area" that confused me, but something else. In the middle of the room stood a mannequin dressed in a black wedding tuxedo. Seeing his gaze, my palms were sweating, and the inner walls of my stomach clenched.
- Come in and take off your clothes behind the screen. Leave only your underwear, while I will find the dress that I started sewing and the sewing centimeter for now.
I went behind a leather screen and began to take off my jeans and a woolen pullover. While I was undressing, it seemed to me that someone was looking at me, as if peeping through the gap between the screen. Nonsense. There is no one here, except me and Yana, no one.
- Are you done yet? - Yana's clear voice was heard.
- Yes, I'm on my way.
I came out from behind the screen in my underwear and looked at myself in the mirror. In general, I liked my figure: thin waist, narrow hips, long legs, graceful neck. Admiring my own reflection, I did not hear what Yana was saying.
- Sorry, what? - I asked, looking up from the mirror.
- I didn't say anything, - Yana was surprised.
- Strange, it seemed to me that I heard someone's voice.
- It seemed, - Yana dismissed. - Here you go, - she handed me a white silk fabric, - this is an unfinished dress, but you can already try it on.
I wore a long, soft fabric whose hem fell to the floor and I had to hold it with my hand.
“So, now lower the hem and straighten the neckline of the dress,” Yana commanded.
I did as she asked.
“Okay, now don't move, I'll pin the fabric in the right places with pins and measure the train of the wedding dress.
While Yana was conjuring with a wedding dress, I succumbed to the temptation and looked at the mannequin standing in the opposite corner of the room. It changed noticeably: the color of the plastic became a little more tanned, a clear contour appeared at the lips, glass eyes acquired expressiveness, and the hair lay hair to hair on the head. Dressed in an expensive elegant tuxedo, in the pocket of which was visible a white silk scarf, and shoes polished to a shine, the mannequin looked like a living person.
“Fine,” Yana exclaimed, folding her hands together. - With such a dress I will definitely not be ashamed to come to the competition.
“Glad you're happy,” I smiled.
- Thank you, Sveta. I owe you. Now stand next to the mannequin, I will take a picture of you.
- Why? - I was alarmed.
- Well, how is that why? For my portfolio. I always photograph my models.
I didn't budge. And I tried not to look in the direction of the mannequin.
- Yana, I do not like to be photographed. I don't think this is the best idea.
“Only my employer will see these photos. I promise I won't post them anywhere. Please, Light, let me make them, I worked on these models for a very long time, and you are so beautiful in a dress.
- Well, okay, okay, - I gave up, standing next to the "groom".
Yana took a camera out of her backpack and pointed the lens at us. I pushed my long hair back and put both hands on my hips. Yana clicked the shutter, and I smiled, presenting myself as a model. Suddenly, I felt something cold on my waist, an unknown object was rising from the bottom up, touching the spine. I touched my waist with my hand and shuddered in horror. I was bathed in heat, a prickly lump formed in my throat, and it became difficult to breathe. The mannequin stroked my back with his cold plastic hand. I jumped to the side and, shrinking all over, collapsed onto the bed.
- What's the matter? - Yana asked fearfully.
I sat silently, glaring at the edge of the bed.
- Sveta, answer me, - Yana shook me by the shoulders.
I continued to be silent
- I'm calling an ambulance.
“Don't,” I whispered. - Do not.
“You are whiter than snow,” Yana took my hand. - It is not normal.
I swallowed and, looking at the floor, said:
-This happens. I'm fine.
I began to rise out of bed, holding onto Jan's hand.
- I'd better go home.
- Of course, see you off?
- Not worth it.
I took my things and changed behind the screen.
“The dress is hanging on a hanger,” I said, heading for the door.
Yana followed me, making sure that I did not fall on the stairs. I walked as if in a fog, not seeing or hearing anything around me. My head was spinning, my legs were tangled, fatigue fell on me.
- You definitely do not need to see off? - Jan's anxious voice, opening the front door for me.
I shook my head.
- No thanks. Things are good.
I said goodbye to Yana and walked along a narrow path paved with stones to the gate. As I left, I turned around and involuntarily glanced at the house. It was dark outside, and only in Yana's room was the light on. And at the window stood a male figure in a wedding tuxedo.
The next day Katya did not come to school. I got worried and called her every change, but the phone was turned off. After school, a friend dialed my number herself.
- Hey! Where are you?
- Hello, Sveta, - Katya answered in a gloomy voice. - I couldn't call earlier. Let's meet at our favorite cafe and I'll explain everything to you.
“Okay,” I agreed, anticipating something bad.
- I'll be there in half an hour. See you later, - said Katya and passed out.
On the way to the cafe, I was insanely nervous and walked at a brisk pace. My excitement grew like puffs of black acrid smoke. The most terrible thoughts crept into my head, but I did not allow myself to be led by my own fears. I was worried about Katya, my friend often found herself in unpleasant situations: once I had a fight with a neighbor's boy, after one of the parties I crashed my father’s car while driving drunk, but she was never upset, believing that everything around would be formed by itself. Today was the first day when Katya was really upset, and from her voice I understood that something terrible had happened.
There were few customers in the cafe, and I quickly found Katya among them.
- Hi, - I greeted, sitting down opposite. - How are you?
Katya understood her eyes, swollen from tears, and barely audibly answered:
- Badly.
I took her hand. Katya was pale, and there were shadows under her eyes. Looking at her, my excitement grew.
- What happened? I asked cautiously.
Katya burst into tears, pulled her hand out from under my arm and ran her hand over her wet cheek.
- She, - swallowing tears, said a friend. - Yana ... yesterday ... she.
Katya cried even harder.
- What? - inside me everything clenched with fear. - What about Yana?
“She’s dead,” her friend began to sob.
Katya's last words stunned me. It darkened in my eyes, sounds came as if from afar, my head was spinning. It was like I fell into an alternate reality.
“Yana is dead,” I repeated, trying to believe what I had heard. - But how? How did it come about?
Having calmed down a little, Katya continued:
- The police said there was no break-in. The sister let the killer in herself.
"The killer." The word made me feel cold. She was killed yesterday. The day we prepared the dress for the competition.
- They have versions of who it could be? - I asked, looking at the drooping friend.
Katya slowly turned her head to the window.
“None,” she replied in a low voice. - In the morning, the investigator interrogated me and my parents. That’s why I didn’t answer my phone calls. He asked: did our family have enemies, did dad hurt anyone’s interests in his last affairs, did Yana have new acquaintances. And stuff like that.
- How are your parents?
Katya turned away from the window and shrugged her shoulders:
Dad went to work, cannot be at home, and Mom ... She is completely bad, drinks powerful sedatives and does not leave her room. Now our housekeeper is with her.
“I really sympathize with you,” I said with a sigh. - Yana, too, was like an older sister to me.
Katya raised her red eyes at me and looked for a while, without saying anything, from her gaze a chill ran down my spine. A few minutes later, Katya said in a colorless voice:
- Not worth it.
- Sorry?
- You shouldn't regret and sympathize. The medical examination showed that Yana died between ten and eleven o'clock in the evening. My parents came at the beginning of twelve, which means that my older sister spent the last hours of her life with you.
I could not believe my own ears, Katya blames me for Yana's death. Me my best friend. Anger flared up in me, but after a minute it went out. Katya is worried and, probably, cannot reason sensibly now.
- Katya, I left at about ten. Anything could happen in an hour.
A waitress came up to us to take an order. Katya did not answer her, but I ordered two coffees for both of us.
- It turns out that my sister was killed within an hour, - Katya broke the silence, - they quickly finished.
I felt embarrassed in front of a friend. After all, I was next to Yana that day, and if I had not left, if I had not been frightened by this damned dummy, then perhaps Yana would have been alive. I was indirectly to blame for her death. And deep in my soul I felt it.
“Don't think that I blame you,” Katya said as if she had read my thoughts. - If you were there at the moment when the killer came, then yesterday I would have lost not only my older sister, but also my friend.
I got up from the chair and hugged Katya. She was as light as a feather.
“Thank you for not being mad at me, but I still feel guilty towards your family.
The waitress put two large latte cups on our table. I took one of them, feeling my hands warm.
“No need,” said Katya, taking a long sip. - On the contrary, it is good that Yana did not spend the last hours of her life alone, strict in her outfits.
Katya's iPhone signaled the arrival of SMS. She looked at the phone and said:
- I have to go. The housekeeper needs to go grocery shopping, and I don’t want to leave my mother alone. I won't be at school for a while, so write and call. I will try to answer right away.
“Okay,” I replied.
“I hope this maniac gets caught.
- Maniac? - I asked with horror.
- Yana was strangled with a white silk scarf, which she sewed for a wedding tuxedo for her ill-fated competition. The investigator said that the killer's use of the victim's personal belongings as a murder weapon is typical behavior for a maniac.
I felt bitterness in my throat, my hands shook, but still asked:
- You ... you said that Yana was strangled with a silk scarf that she was preparing for the competition?
- Exactly, - Katya threw in her voice angrily, - this idiot could not think of anything else how to take my sister's life with her own handkerchief. It is a pity that we do not have the death penalty, for people like him have no place on earth.
Katya turned around and left the cafe. Through the window I saw her crossing the street. Katya had already disappeared around the corner of a tall building, and my hands were still shaking, holding a cup of coffee.
I woke up early on Saturday. And not because today was Yana's funeral - I learned about this sad event a week ago - I just could not sleep all night. Thoughts were spinning in my head, crushing with all their weight, they tortured me, not giving me the opportunity to tell someone about my guesses. I knew who killed Yana, but realizing that no one would believe me, I was silent. And how can I believe it? Killer dummy. A mannequin is a plastic doll that, like in horror films, has acquired the ability to move. No, no one will definitely believe that.
Despite my assumptions, doubts still tormented my soul. But what if it was still a living person? But then why did he strangle Yana with a silk scarf, sewn for the competition. And why he disappeared without leaving any trace. I put forward one version after another and immediately refuted them. Realizing that my mind was clouded, I decided to trust my intuition, and she prompted that the figure revived was to blame.
Quite a lot of people gathered at the funeral: neighbors, distant relatives, acquaintances and friends, but mostly those present were colleagues of Yana and Katya's father. With my eyes I tried to find Katya among the figures dressed in black mourning suits. However, she was nowhere to be seen. Those who came to support the Maximovs were divided into several groups, each of which emanated an unpleasant whisper. I could only hear scraps of phrases: "who is her like that", "poor Victoria, to lose the eldest daughter", "this is their payment for a beautiful and dear life." These voices made me cringe, and I decided to go to the quietest place in this house: the kitchen. At the bar, I saw Katya. She was in a black pantsuit and was crying softly, covering her face with her hands.
“Hi,” I touched her shoulder. - I was looking for you.
“Hi,” she replied, and the corners of her lips twitched slightly.
Katya fiddled with a button on her strict jacket and said nothing. I stood next to her, hugging her, and was also silent. On such a day, words would be superfluous.
“She sewed it for me in two weeks,” Katya broke the silence. - I just brought her a magazine in which the model was wearing this suit, and Yana, looking at the photo, said that she would make one in a couple of weeks. She kept her promise ... She ...
Katya cried again, gasping for air. I hugged her to me and whispered:
- I know. I know.
When Katya calmed down a little, she began to lay out the napkins, and I joined her in order to keep myself busy.
- Have you heard anything about the investigation? I asked.
- No, the investigator said that this nutcase did a good job, did not leave any traces.
I immediately remembered about the mannequin. Yes, it will be difficult for the police to catch the plastic criminal. Anger and despair rolled over me when I thought that Yana's case would not be solved, and unable to contain these emotions, I decided to tell Katya about my assumptions. Better to let her think that I’m out of my mind than to never know who killed her sister.
- Katya, I need to tell you something, - I began, - it may seem strange to you, but ...
Before I could finish my sentence, a tall, dark-haired stranger appeared in the doorway. He walked over to the bar and asked in a low, husky voice:
- Excuse me, are you Ekaterina Maksimova?
Katya was confused and, dropping napkins on the floor, answered:
- Yes it's me.
- The fact is that I am Yana's boyfriend.
The young man was incredibly handsome: high cheekbones, big green eyes, strong-willed chin, straight nose, even tan. He seemed to have stepped off the cover of a magazine. Katya and I looked at him as if spellbound.
“Of course, hello,” Katya replied, having come to her senses. - Sorry, I'm just a little absent-minded today.
“Nothing, I understand,” he replied in a calm voice.
- Yana talked about you.
“Very glad,” he said, and the corners of his lips barely twitched.
I looked at Yana's boyfriend and could not understand who he reminds me of. I saw him for the first time, but a strange feeling settled inside that the stranger was familiar to me.
“Please accept my condolences,” I said, looking at him.
The young man slowly turned his head towards me and said coldly:
- Thanks.
- Would you like to drink something? Katya asked.
“No, thank you,” he straightened, showing his tall stature. - I would like to go up to Yana's room, take something from her things as a keepsake.
- Of course, of course, - said Katya in a voice breaking into crying. - Come on, I'll show you.
Katya trotted to the exit, and the young man slowly turned his head again and, measuring me with a steel gaze, said:
- All the best.
He also slowly turned to Katya and, smiling, followed her.
I did not want to be left alone in the kitchen, and I returned to the living room. I sat down on a leather sofa and looked around: the women were constantly crying, and the men did not let go of the glass of brandy, the whole room was saturated with bitterness and despair.
- Sveta. Svetochka, - a familiar voice was heard.
I narrowed my eyes and saw a tall, elegantly dressed woman with jet-black hair pinned up.
- Hello, Victoria Vladimirovna, - I said, recognizing the mother of Katya and Yana.
- Oh, Svetochka, - she collapsed next to me on the sofa and squeezed her strength in her arms. - It's so good that you came.
Next to us stood a young man of short stature with his dark copper hair combed back, his pale face was imprinted with pain. He looked at Victoria Vladimirovna and sighed barely audibly.
“Please accept my condolences,” I said sadly.
“Well, you’re so good that you’re here,” Victoria Vladimirovna unhooked her long fingers and dabbed her red, puffy eyes.
She has always been a role model: she wore elegant suits, styled her hair so that not a single strand of hair fell out of the general hairstyle, put on impeccable makeup and glided like a queen, with a perfectly straight posture, proudly lifting her chin. I admired her sophistication.
However, today Victoria Vladimirovna looked completely different: her raised hair looked sloppy, all the makeup spread on her face from endless tears, traces of fatigue could be seen under her eyes, she seemed to have aged ten years from grief. And even being dressed in an expensive dress, she looked disheveled and unkempt. Nothing remained of the stern, graceful woman.
- It is unfair, unfair that they took Yanochka away, - Viktoria Vladimirovna was suffocating from mental pain, - but it is such happiness that she spent her last days with you, and not ... alone ... - choking with tears, she said.
- Of course, of course, - I whispered, hugging Yana's mother.
- Should I bring you some water? - I heard the colorless voice of the guy standing next to him.
- No, thank you, Andrey, it is not necessary, - answered Victoria Vladimirovna. - By the way, Andrei, meet you, this is Sveta - a friend of Katya and Yana.
“Very nice,” I replied.
- And this is Andrey - the guy of our Yanochka.
It was as if they poured icy water over me, squeezing in my chest. Andrei stretched out his bony hand, but I did not shake it, being in a semi-conscious state. If Andrey is Yana's boyfriend, then who is ... Before I could finish my own question, I jumped off the couch. Kate! Katya with a stranger in Yana's bedroom. She's in danger.
- What? - Victoria Vladimirovna was surprised.
- I need to find Katya.
“Oh, don’t worry, she’s here somewhere.
- No, - I shook my head, - she is in Yana's room.
I went to the stairs to run to Yana's bedroom, but Victoria Vladimirovna was ahead of me.
-All the better. I'll go get her.
She slowly got up from the sofa and straightened the black silk stole.
- I can go, it's not difficult for me, really.
- I can handle it, - insisted Victoria Vladimirovna, casting a cold look at me. - Stay in the living room.
I did not argue, stepping out of the way. In general, it was very difficult to argue with Victoria Vladimirovna, she was one of those women to whom it is safer to yield.
Andrey went to the other guests, and I poured myself mineral water into a glass of Bohemian crystal and moved from the living room to the corridor. I felt that anxiety gripped my body. Leaning against the wrought-iron railing of the spiral staircase, I began to breathe deeply to calm myself. However, nothing helped, and terrible thoughts were spinning in my head. According to the investigation, Yana was strangled by a maniac who is actually a dummy, of course, I'm not one hundred percent sure that it is him, but a silk scarf sewn to a wedding tuxedo and a revived hand stroking me on the back testified to the involvement of the dummy ... It's just not clear what kind of crazy person he introduced himself as Jan's guy? And why would he take something from her room. As soon as Katya comes down, I will tell her about my thoughts, and together we will solve this riddle.
I looked up, but there was no one there. Katya and Victoria Vladimirovna have not descended for several minutes. Then I decided to go up to Yana's bedroom myself. As soon as I climbed the step, I heard a high-pitched female scream. The heartbreaking cry belonged to Victoria Vladimirovna.
The howl of the ambulance siren, the bright flashing lights of the police cars, the ensemble of sighs, screams and crying drove me crazy. I sat in an easy chair, covering my head with my hands, trying to hide from the real world. I wanted to escape to another brighter, more joyful world. The world in which Yana will be alive, the mannequins will become motionless plastic dolls, and Katya ... My best friend Katya will not lie in a body bag with multiple knife wounds. A world where strangers don't kill a young girl at their own sister's funeral. A world in which there is still light and goodness.
- Svetlana Kovaleva?
“Yes,” I whispered, removing my hands from the top of my head.
- My name is Kirill Alekseevich, - a man in uniform introduced himself. - I am an investigator and I will conduct the case of the premeditated murder of Ekaterina Pavlovna Maximova. I have a few questions for you.
For the last couple of hours, the investigator asked me about Katya, about her enemies and friends, about her school and teachers. I answered, as on autopilot: "No, there were no enemies." "She was a friendly girl." When the investigator asked about suspicious strangers around Katya, I was all tense. Noticing my tension, the uniformed man began to question me more. And I told about Yana's fake boyfriend.
“You should have started with this! - the investigator was indignant. - What did he look like? Describe it.
“He came to our kitchen and asked Katya to accompany him to Yana’s bedroom,” I replied, recovering a little from the shock. - The stranger is one of those who came to the funeral.
"Is he still here now?"
I looked around the living room, in which all those present were crowded, except for Victoria Vladimirovna. She passed out and was taken away by ambulance. There was no stranger among those who came to say goodbye to Yana.
- No. He's not here, ”I said, dropping my head.
- Then you will go with us to the station, and we will draw up a composite sketch, - the investigator said in an irritated voice.
- I AM? I asked in a trembling voice.
- Vitya, - the investigator turned to one of the policemen, - the girl saw the suspect and will go with us to make his composite.
“But I can't,” I stammered. “I have to warn my parents.
- Aren't they here?
- Dad is on a business trip, and mom stayed with our neighbor at home, she is an elderly woman, she needs care.
The investigator knitted his brows and coughed loudly, said:
- Okay. You will arrive tomorrow at ten o'clock in the morning with your mother to make a composite sketch. We cannot interrogate a minor without her legal representatives.
“Okay,” I nodded and walked briskly to the exit. I didn't want to stay in this house of sorrow and despair.
“By the way, the killer of your classmate is the same person who killed her older sister,” the investigator said unexpectedly.
- What? I asked.
It can't be. Yana was killed by a dummy, and a living person went upstairs with Katya.
“Before killing Yekaterina Maksimova,” the investigator continued, “he tied her hands with a silk scarf, the same one with which her sister was strangled. The stranger your classmate went upstairs with is a serial killer.
I felt the ground sinking from under my feet. The room swayed, and I grabbed the back of the chair to keep from falling. Thoughts in my head were confused. If Yana and Katya were killed by the same person ... it means that ... what ... A faint moan escaped my chest. The dummy came to life!
Arriving home, I kicked off my shoes in the hallway and collapsed on a soft pouf by the closet. I have never felt so depressed and overwhelmed before. I had a scorched desert inside. Yana's death, then her funeral, at which Katya was killed, and after a long grueling interrogation, during which it turned out that the stranger who introduced himself as Yana's boyfriend is a revived dummy. I had no strength left at all, the cycle of terrible events at the end exhausted me. My head was spinning from all this. It seemed to me that this was not happening to me, I so wanted it.
The headache persisted, and I went to the kitchen to take an aspirin.
- Mom, are you at home? - I shouted, going to the kitchen door.
There was no answer. This means that Nina Fyodorovna still has it. Our neighbor Nina Fyodorovna was about eighty and needed extra care. Relatives did not appear in her life, and she never had a husband or children, so my mother often visited her. I poured water into a glass and, rummaging in the medicine cabinet, I found an aspirin. After taking a pill, I went to my room to lie down.
Suddenly something caught my attention. Passing the living room, I caught a strange movement with my peripheral vision. I turned my head and almost fainted at the sight. An unknown man was sitting on my mother’s favorite chair, cross-legged. The room was dark, so I did not see his face, but his broad shoulders and men's shoes, polished to a shine, made it clear that a man was sitting in the chair.
- Who you are? I asked in a trembling voice.
The unknown was silent.
I took a step into the living room and asked again:
- Who are you? Answer immediately or I'll call the police.
“You don’t recognize me?” Came a low, hoarse voice. - It seems to me that we have already met.
And then the man slowly began to rise from the chair. For some reason, his figure was familiar to me: strong arms, broad shoulders, tall stature. And the voice. Voice. I've heard it before too. In my mind, I began to sort out all my acquaintances, but no one looked like this unknown guy. And only when his face appeared from the darkness, I realized in horror who was in front of me.
The guy who went upstairs with Katya is the one who introduced himself as Yana's boyfriend. Animated mannequin. The killer of Katya and Yana was in my apartment. I looked into his cold eyes, saw the grin on his face and could not believe what was happening.
- What are you here ... - I did not have time to finish.
The dummy rushed at me and punched me in the stomach. I almost gasped in pain. I doubled over and fell to the floor. The room was spinning, and my throat caught. I could not move, could not breathe. The dummy grabbed me by the collar of my jacket and pulled me along.
- Do you think you know everything? He asked, dragging me along the floor of the corridor.
I squeezed my stomach, hoping to suppress the spasm.
"Do you think I wanted to kill your girlfriends?" No, I didn't want to. I had to do it, otherwise I would not be able to be reborn.
The dummy dragged me into my bedroom and threw me by the bed. The pain from the blow in my abdomen gradually dulled, and I, having found the strength in myself, carefully got to my feet.
“I want to live as before,” he said in an icy voice and began to approach me. - And you will help me with this.
“Don't hope,” I said through clenched teeth.
The dummy grinned and pushed me onto the bed with a sharp movement. I felt soft pillows on my back. I tried to get up, but my tormentor started wringing my hands. I struggled, screamed, kicked him, but nothing helped, he had already tied my wrists with a white silk handkerchief, and then I realized in horror that my life would soon end.
“Let go,” I shouted. - Let me go.
“Stop twitching,” the dummy ordered.
He rolled me onto my side to check if my hands were tightly tied behind my back. After making sure that the knot was secure, the mannequin tried to tie my legs too, but he did not succeed well. I kicked him, trying to hit him harder, trying to break free, I fought with all my might for my life.
“Now I’ll calm you down,” the murderer snapped angrily.
He left the room and walked quickly down the corridor. I was delighted with the opportunity, rolling to the edge of the bed, I quickly lowered my feet to the floor and began to free my wrists, untie the knot of the silk scarf. Tears came to my eyes as I felt the silk fabric with my fingertips. After all, the mannequin strangled Yana with the same handkerchief and made Katya helpless before taking her life.
Remembering the mannequin, everything inside went cold. Where did he go? And when will he return? It didn't take long. The mannequin stood on the threshold of the bedroom and, seeing that I was not on the bed, became furious:
“Don't you dare run away from me. You are mine now! And you will stay with her forever.
“Leave me alone, psychopath,” I shouted, almost untiing the knot.
“I don’t promise that,” he grinned. - Do whatever I say, otherwise you will die.
A long knife flashed in his hand. I swallowed nervously, staring at the weapon in the madman's hands. Meanwhile, the mannequin slowly approached me. I was shaking all over with fear, my palms went cold, hot tears poured from my eyes.
Now he will kill me. He will kill me! I was gripping the silk handkerchief that I had just untied and looked into the eyes of my death. "A handkerchief, - a handkerchief, of course, flashed through my head." Behind my back, I quickly twisted the silk fabric into a tight tourniquet and, with a sharp movement, threw it around the dummy's neck, wrapping it as tightly as possible, I blocked the access of oxygen to it. He blushed, his eyes widened, the killer dropped the knife from his hand in surprise. I choked him with a silk handkerchief, with all my might, not loosening the noose for a second. The dummy tried to free himself, grabbing my hands, but nothing worked. They were as tough as ever. The adrenaline in my blood went off scale, giving me superhuman strength.
Suddenly the mannequin pulled me to him, and for a second I let go of the handkerchief. Grasping my waist with his hands, he threw me aside and began to cough, gasping for air. I fell to my right knee, right outside the bedroom entrance. The dummy continued to cough, clutching at his throat. Taking advantage of the moment, I struggled to my feet and ran out of the bedroom. The dummy, seeing that I was running away, rushed after me. The skin on my right knee was torn, my leg ached, but I continued to run towards the exit. The front door was one step away from me, and, fortunately, it was not locked. The dummy did not lag behind, he was catching up with me. A few more seconds and I'll be safe. Few seconds. I reached for the door handle and, touching it, immediately unclenched my fingers. My right leg caught on something, and I collapsed to the floor. Sharp pain shot through the knee as if it had been doused with acid. I screamed out of unbearable agony. Overcoming the pain, I turned my head to understand what I was hooked on. And she screamed again, but not from pain, but from horror. The dummy grabbed my ankle and pulled me back into the bedroom.
- No no. Let go, it hurts me, - I shouted.
- I told you that you will stay with me forever.
A dummy dragged me across the bare floor. I clung to the legs of the cabinet with my hands, but my tormentor grabbed my ankle with a death grip and, with all the strength, pulled with him. Pain burned my knee, torn to blood, my heart was pounding furiously, tears rolled from my eyes. I couldn't do anything else. I fell into his trap.
“Get up,” the dummy ordered, throwing me beside the bed.
I lay motionless and cried. I didn't even have the strength to move my legs. I stared at one point on the floor, thinking that it would be great to shrink to a small size and disappear. Curled up on the floor, I heard the mannequin approach and, resigned to my fate, closed my eyes, waiting for him to stab.
However, he didn't kill me. My tormentor took me in his arms and gently laid me on the bed.
“You got hurt,” he said, “then you can treat the wound on the knee.
Is the maniac who came to kill me worried that I got hurt? Either he's mocking me, or I'm going crazy myself.
The mannequin rolled me onto my back and slowly began to tie my hands to the headboard of the bed. I turned away, I was disgusted to look him in the face.
“You despise me,” he said suddenly. - Not worth it. You don't know the whole truth.
I was silent, continuing to examine one of the walls in the bedroom.
“Several years ago,” the dummy continued, “I was a man. And I fell in love with one girl, she was beautiful, in some ways even similar to you. Only then did I not know that she was a witch. We met for a long time, but she did not tell me about her gift. To my deep regret, I was not entirely faithful to her. Upon learning of this, my beloved turned me into a lifeless creature, but she loved me, so she applied such a charm that allowed me to revive for a while if I took the life of a young girl.
A chill ran down my spine, tears flowed from my eyes. He kills to live. Yana, Katya and other girls killed by him, their death helps him to turn into a man for a while. And I will be his next victim. I felt my hands tied tightly to the bed, so that my wrists were tight. The mannequin then moved to his legs, his right leg throbbing in pain as he tied it to the other. The agony was unbearable, I even clenched my teeth so as not to scream. Tightening the knot, he continued:
- Once I came to her and asked to return me to my human form. He promised to fulfill any of her requests, but she just laughed in my face and said that I can become a human again only on one condition. The girl who will become my bride will revive me. In her wedding dress, in front of witnesses, she will put a wedding ring on her finger, and after the first wedding night, I will return my human form.
- What did I do? - I was tired of his tales.
The dummy grinned.
- Don't you understand yet? You are my bride.
I was attacked by hysterical laughter. I was so nervous that I lost the thread of his twisted logic. In front of me, indeed, is a psychopath who is trying to drag me into his crazy games.
- What nonsense? I asked, laughing. - Are you completely crazy?
- Stop it! The mannequin barked. - There is nothing funny here. The evening I killed Yana, you came to her house. And she helped with the wedding dress. Do you remember?
I remembered that evening, I remembered Yana's smiling face. Tears flowed from my eyes again. He killed her, and I didn’t interfere. She left. She was scared to see his hand on her waist. Chickened. The feeling of guilt choked me, tears seemed to burn out my eyes.
- You put on this dress, cuddled in it to me, dressed in a wedding tuxedo, in front of witnesses, in front of Yana. She even took a picture of us.
“Don't you dare talk about her,” I shouted.
- Calm down, now it's not about her, but about you and me.
The mannequin stood at the head of the bed and turned my face to him.
- There are no us. Trying on a wedding dress, I did not become your bride, crazy crazy.
“Of course,” he replied with a smirk on his face. “It was then that you became my bride. And life woke up in me. However, the transformation was incomplete. You need to put on your ring and give me a night of love.
That's why he came to me. Tied him up and did not kill immediately. He wants me to complete his transformation. At the thought of what he wanted to do to me, I almost turned inside out.
- It will not happen. Never.
I began to twirl. Trying to free my arms and legs, but the mannequin tied me tightly.
- Stop. You cannot escape your destiny. Today you will be my bride.
A wave of panic swept over me. At the thought of what could happen now, my heart pounded madly, fear fettered me from the inside. I was tied up, and the dummy was approaching.
He lay down on top of me, and I almost suffocated from the weight of his body. The killer ran his hand through my hair, and I, unable to bear it, shouted:
- No. Let me go. Let me go.
He said nothing, only spread his legs wide, giving comparative freedom to my knees, and continued to touch my body.
I moved my legs, but my ankles were tightly bound. I didn't know what to do, how to get out. I twitched, wriggled, tried to throw him off me, but this only amused the dummy. Suddenly the decision came by itself. A knife stuck out of the belt of his jeans. The same knife he used to threaten me. I have a chance to get out, I just need to distract the dummy.
“Do you really think the spell will break?
The dummy looked at me in surprise.
Meanwhile, I bent my legs and grabbed the handle of his knife with my knees.
- Why did you suddenly get so excited? The mannequin raised its head.
My right knee ached, the skin was hot, but I nevertheless carefully began to pull the knife from the waist of his jeans.
“I just think that all your efforts may be in vain. The witch could have deceived you.
- What are you talking about?
- I say that everything can be a joke, a joke.
The mannequin frowned, anger flashing in his cold eyes. I practically pulled out the knife and, holding it between my knees, continued to distract my tormentor.
- Do you think you've thought of everything? What if you missed some small detail? Maybe your beloved lied to you and laughed at you all these years?
The dummy loomed over me. He pressed hard on my wrists, so that I almost screamed.
“Don't you dare even suggest that.” Sparks of rage flew from his eyes.
I raised my knees and with all my might stabbed the knife into his back.
The dummy screamed. He grabbed his back, hesitated, feeling for a knife. Screamed again. A grimace of horror twisted his face. Taking advantage of his momentary weakness, I hit him in the stomach with my knee. He nearly gasped in pain and fell off the bed onto the floor.
Suddenly footsteps were heard in the corridor.
- Sveta, are you at home?
- Mama! - I was delighted. - Mom, call the police.
The dummy pulled a bloody knife from his back. He was shocked by what was happening. I continued to call for help. Mom ran to my room as fast as she could. The dummy with difficulty got up from the floor and, without even looking at me, rushed to the balcony overlooking my bedroom. I looked at him as if hypnotized. But where will he run away, we're on the ninth floor?
Mom's scream made me turn around. She stood in the doorway, covering her mouth with her hands so as not to scream even louder.
- Mom, untie me and call the police. I screamed on the balcony.
- What else is he here? She asked in horror.
I nodded.
Mom quickly untied me and told me to run to Nina Fyodorovna. She herself grabbed the phone, keys and followed me. Once in the apartment of a neighbor, my mother and I called the police, and both tried to recover.
- Have you locked the criminal in your apartment? The policeman asked, puzzled.
- What was to be done? - answered mom, opening the door with a key. - Do you know what he wanted to do with my girl?
By the time the police arrived, my mother and I had calmed down a bit. I told her everything, keeping silent about the fact that the maniac who was in our house was a dummy.
The police went inside and immediately proceeded to my room. One of them went out onto the balcony, others began to inspect the apartment. A few minutes later, my mother and I were allowed to enter.
- He really ran out onto the balcony? The policeman asked.
- I have not seen, but my daughter says that he disappeared on the balcony.
I nodded.
- Only your maniac is not there.
- How? - I could barely stay on my feet. - How is he not there?
- Maybe you mixed something up?
- Confused? I exploded. - Maybe I got it wrong that he entered my house, tied me up and nearly killed me?
I cried. Mom began to console me and looked askance at the police.
- Well, well, he could have escaped from the apartment in another way. We'll figure it out.
“I think I know how he got away,” came the rough voice of one of the policemen.
All those present, including my mother and I, went to the balcony.
- See? - a man in uniform was holding a thick rope in his hands. “She was tied to a pole with an antenna on the roof. You live on the top floor, and he lowered the rope to your balcony. I thought of everything in advance.
- And you did not believe me, - I was indignant.
-Now we believe. Come with us to the police station to draw up a composite of the suspect.
- Go. I still have to show up at your precinct tomorrow morning.
Mom, widening her eyes, stared at me. The policemen, too, did not take their eyes off me, not understanding anything.
“This is the same person,” I answered the question that was hanging in the air. - He killed Yana and Katya.
After my mother and I returned from the police station, where I was now the main witness, I was put to sleep in my parents' bedroom. Mom came to see me every ten minutes. She listened in horror to my version of the mannequin murders. Of course, I spoke of him as a living person who took the lives of two of my close friends and attacked me. Nobody would have believed the version that the killer is a revived dummy. How can you even believe it? Mannequins stand in shop windows, rather than walking around the house with a knife. The investigator, of course, assured me that they would definitely find the culprit, but I understood that this would not happen. It is very difficult to catch a half-human, half-human.
Days passed one after another, and I gradually returned to my everyday life. I didn’t go to school, my mother didn’t even let me go to the store alone, she generally offered to transfer me to home schooling. And I secretly left the house only when my mother was invited to visit by a friend. Dad, returning from a business trip, changed all the locks and bought me a can of gas.
Katya and Yana's parents did everything to catch the killer of their beloved daughters. They followed the progress of the investigation, offered a reward for the capture of the maniac, called me to ask in more detail about the criminal who deprived them of the most important treasure in life. And I told the same as the investigator, that is, the whole truth, except that the killer is a dummy. I sincerely wanted to alleviate their suffering, but the calls did not stop, and the visits to our home became more frequent. Viktoria Vladimirovna's interrogations exhausted me, making me feel guilty. She seemed to feel that I was hiding something, so she did not leave me alone. Seeing my torment, my mother forbade Katya's parents to come, call or even come near me.
And yet, one day I mustered up the courage and decided to visit them myself. I wanted to tell them the truth. I could no longer lie and keep everything to myself. I confess to them, and then let them decide for themselves whether to believe me or not.
I pressed the intercom button on the gate and waited. Nobody opened it. After hesitating in place, I dialed the code again, but the answer was short beeps. I waited a few minutes and was about to leave, when suddenly I saw the housekeeper Maximovs on the porch.
- Hello! - I shouted to her. - May I come in?
A plump woman in a strict blue dress pressed a button and the gate instantly opened. I quickly trotted over to the front door.
“Good evening,” the housekeeper greeted.
- Hello, my name is Sveta, - I introduced myself. - I am Katya's classmate.
- Oh, yes, - the woman, realizing who is in front of her, nodded in the affirmative. - I remember you, you came here several times. Have you forgotten something of your belongings here?
- No, I came to talk to Victoria Vladimirovna.
The housekeeper looked at me piteously and, with a heavy sigh, said:
- Unfortunately this is not possible. The Maximovs left.
- How? For a long time?
- Most likely, forever, - the housekeeper threw up her hands. - Victoria Vladimirovna could no longer be in this house after recent incidents. And Pavel Alekseevich took her to Europe, I'm here until the house is sold.
“I see,” I answered sadly.
This means that they not only left, but even decided to sell their house, thus breaking with the past.
- If you forgot something, you can pick it up now, before the workers took away your things too.
- Workers?
- I did not say? The Maximovs left, taking only the most necessary things. The rest they distributed to their numerous relatives or sent for sale. Workers pack the last boxes in the living room.
- Do you know what happened to Yana's things? I mean supplies and equipment for her design project?
The housekeeper opened the door and looked inside, checking the workers. She made sure that the latter did not take anything superfluous for themselves. Then she turned to me again and said:
- It seems that the cousin of Victoria Vladimirovna from Nizhny Novgorod took it.
- Are you sure?
- Yes, I'm sure. Nastya also dreams of becoming a designer, which is why she asked to be sent the necessary tools. Victoria Vladimirovna is a generous woman. She ordered to take all sewing utensils, tables, typewriters and so on from Yana's room, and then send it to her niece. The workers even packed the dummy for her.
Mannequin? I couldn't believe my own ears. So he is now in another city? My heart pounded at the news. That is why he no longer appears in my life, the dummy was taken away from Moscow. For the first time in a long time, I felt safe. He is no longer in this city. He can't hurt me.
- Thanks. Thank you very much for the information, ”I thanked the housekeeper and turned around sharply and headed for the exit.
- Not at all, - the woman did not understand the reason for my unexpected joy. - Will you take your things?
Almost level with the gate, I turned around and shouted:
- My things are not there, and never were.
The housekeeper, clearly embarrassed by my appearance, returned to her business. When the gates slammed shut behind me, I took in more air and walked home at a leisurely pace. This house no longer inspired me with fear.
Time passed, and a few weeks after the Maximovs moved, I returned to school. Without noticing it, I became popular. My classmates swirled around me, constantly asking how I managed to stay alive after being attacked by a serial killer. I got tired of answering the same questions, so I tried to translate the topic in a different direction. The teachers also showed interest, cautiously inquiring into my psychological state. This kind of attention irritated me, and I already regretted returning to school again.
I felt uncomfortable and sad here without Katya. I often thought about her, cried at night, looking at our photographs with her. Sometimes I dreamed that she was alive, and we were going to graduation together, but, waking up in the morning, I realized that this was just a dream, and then an excruciating melancholy came over me.
One evening I was looking through my e-mail on the computer, and I caught myself thinking that I was re-reading our messages with Katya. Tears dripped onto the keyboard, letters on the screen blurred, and my heart was torn apart from unbearable pain. I realized that I could no longer torture myself by clinging to the past, and began to delete one message after another.
When all of our letters with Katya were deleted, I updated my mail and saw a new message. It was sent by an anonymous author. I clicked on the letter and jumped away from the monitor, as if it were a poisonous snake. A familiar photo stretched across the entire screen: I was standing in a wedding dress in the Maximovs' house, arm in arm with a mannequin. Below the photo was a message addressed to me:
“I'm getting close. There is very little left. Soon we will meet with you and finish what we started. "

You're a perfectionist, ”said my now ex-girlfriend, slamming the door goodbye.
“Why vent your anger in this way? You also need to be able to leave beautifully, ”I thought, not feeling much regret. Marina is a wonderful example of female beauty, but she lacked a lot of things.

"Perfectionism is the conviction that improvement, both one's own and that of others, is the goal that a person should strive for." We can say that perfectionism is an excessive striving for perfection, a tendency to make very high demands on oneself and those around him.

I didn't want to admit that my ex was right, but it is. Only my perfectionism is selective. It manifests itself only in the ideal image of a girl.
For myself, I decided long ago what it should be.
Outwardly, he represented her as a mannequin in a fashionable clothing boutique. Every time I walked past the window, I looked at the beauty displayed in it. Sometimes he stopped and whispered with his lips alone:
- I love you.

This recognition burst out of me thoughtlessly. She's a dummy!
But why did her stern, inquiring gaze affect me so?

One day, returning from work, I saw two men carry my beauty out of the store, and the crowd, in anticipation of entertainment, silently looked at them.

Where are you taking her? - I asked anxiously.
- These are the Safronov brothers - magicians, - explained the onlookers.
- Don't worry, boy. We are not thieves. Better go watch how we will revive the dummy, ”the bearded loader said condescendingly.
- Only external similarity will be limited to clothes. And instead of beauty, they will slip some girl. After all, it is known that the cabinet has two doors, - someone from the crowd shouted.

Angry, one of the movers jerked sharply, and the mannequin hit the door with his hand.
“She's not in pain. She's not alive, ”he tried to calm down.
It hurt me.
He could not leave her helpless in the hands of the magicians. Therefore, I followed them to a small cafe, where instead of the shifted chairs and tables, there was a massive wardrobe.
The Safronov brothers brought the mannequin into the closet, demonstrating at first that it was completely empty.

Then they closed it and began to make passes, diverting attention to themselves.
I didn’t look at them, stretched out like a setter. I did not believe in hocus-pocus, remembering the words of the whistleblower about the second door. Waiting for the show to end, for my ideal of perfection to be brought back to the shop window.

When the door swung open, he didn’t gasp with everyone, just because he caught his breath at the sight of the girl of his dreams.

More precisely, there were two of them in the closet.
One, because of the waxy pallor on his face, was mistaken for a mannequin, rather plain and vulgar. And only when she squeaked something stifled, pointing with horror at the neighbor, he became convinced of his own mistake.
I could not see enough of the second girl - the exact semblance of a mannequin.
She turned her gaze to me - questioning and embarrassedly happy. Ignoring the dumbfounded illusionists, she approached. She reached out her hand, and I took it in mine.

We walked around the city for a long time, until the drizzling rain gave us courage to invite the girl to visit.
“If you want it, then I agree,” she replied seriously, and smiled shyly.
Her smile made her heart beat with joy.

I was proud of my apartment. There were few things in it - nothing superfluous, everything only necessary and of excellent quality.

In the eyes of the stranger (I did not ask the name, she did not show curiosity to mine), surprise flashed, then approval, at the sight of the perfect cleanliness of the dwelling.

Helped to take off his jacket and silk scarf when he noticed a purple bruise on his wrist. And also - barely noticeable traces. Fine lines on the neck and arms, where the mannequins have anchorage points.

LINA / HDW-1 - she introduced herself. - Are you upset?

No, - with these words he pulled off his turtleneck, revealing his torso. On my body there were exactly the same marks, only weaker ones. Over time, they will disappear completely, as well as hers.

Andrey - 01, - I called myself, catching Lina's admiring glance. - We will create a new, perfect race.

“What a day
It's raining on the boulevards
The light shines on the people
Thousands of shop windows
Just now i know i will meet you
My boy my friend hello, Mannequin-Andrey "...

Black had a nightmare. Black woke up and remembered that today is exactly one year since he saw her for the first time.
White-white hair flowed down to the shoulders ... White-white shoulders with a delicate pink tint. He ate that kind of ice cream. My teeth ached so nicely. But more attracted to the eyes. A little universe, a little ice, broken glass, artificial crystal from a chandelier in the kitchen. And mascara. Black. She loved contrasts: white - black.
For three months she did not know about him. Those three months that he already knew about her. Then he made up his mind. I handed over the letter myself. Born in the night In the night. And when leaves sprang from the birches and the cold began, he came again.
Shop. Counter. You can still run away. Closer. Back! She stares intently. I was wrong. I did not recognize. I didn't guess. Hi. Hey! Late. Smile. Mutually. Um ... I ... You ... Thanks for the letter.
Thank you ... The letter ... I shouldn't have written it. She was met by car. The bar has already opened. He loved the bar too. There was a great bar in his apartment. Small bar on the wall. Deserted. Completely empty. That same evening he threw ... Xia, threw him out of the window. I called my ex-wife, but a man's voice answered the phone. The voice repeated demandingly: "Hello, hello, you are there .., hello, disgrace, hello, as much as possible, whoever says, hello, put it out of your head, you ..." Black hung up. But the voice continued obsessively: “Disgrace, we will have a child, this is disgrace, why are you silent? Who says why you are silent? Our marriage ... "Marriage ...
Marriage is marriage.
Black ran home. Climbed into my hole. It seems he was crying out loud. Or laughed? .. I felt so sorry for myself. The store is locked ... She was taken to the bar ... It's over, it's over. He lost her! But why? Why didn't she get hit by a car? Why didn't she die? He would love her. He would bring a bunch of artificial roses to the cemetery. Or not. Not roses. Carnations - they are cheaper. Money is so expensive ... She said, "Thank you for the letter." And yet, yes, he remembered when she got into the car, whispered very softly: "Come on Wednesday."

The week stretched out into eternity. The eternity between "Come on Wednesday" and "Hello, how do you like my new dress?" Since then, they began dating at her store. Black came and admired her. She talked about bars. (She loved beer.) Black was silent and smiling. He was trying to catch a synthetic scent emanating from her body. Sometimes, especially when the store was very stuffy, it turned out quickly. And then he began to fantasize. The store was empty. Buyers took to the streets. Two people remained in the semi-dark room. He and she. Soft like plasticine. Hot, malleable plasticine. The two figures crumpled into one. Her hands are tied behind her back with a black stocking. The whip whistled shrilly in the air and, in a semicircle, gently embraced his bare back. There was blood on the crimson scar. Darling, it hurts so much! The lips touch the salty surface. A transparent droplet moves slowly in the hollow between the shoulder blades. The whip screeching again. A groan oozes through clenched teeth. The body is shaking fine. Mascara blurred slightly in the corner of my eye. Her soaked hair was tilted to one side. A thin strand of hair stuck to my forehead. Oh, how hot it is today! How hot!
One day Black invited her to his place. He knelt under the crucifix all evening. All night long. Lips whispered a prayer. Let her come! Let her come! .. Devil, let her come! She ... let ... the body ... let her body stay overnight. She did not come. Black fell asleep on his knees. The tourniquet pulled the arm above the elbow. The tip of the needle pushed blindly into the warm surface, looking for a vein. When the syringe was empty, Black smiled sweetly and sleepily. She was with another man. She melted into ... A spasm bound the body. She was with another and ... Sulfuric acid streamed along blue threads. She ... Her ... With others ...
In the afternoon he was taken to the hospital ...

Emaciated, transparent, weak, Black visited the store three weeks later. She was wearing a black dress of the finest, transparent silk.
- Hello, - instead of words, a clot of consumptive cough splashed out of the patient's larynx.
- Why did not you come?
- Oh, what are you talking about? Oh, yes ... I remember ... it seems ... No, no, what are you. That's funny. Well, think for yourself. To a stranger ...
- I have known you for a long time and then ...
- I beg you, Arthur ... I mean Jack ... Um. Sorry I forgot...
- My name is Black. Black. I have repeated the name a thousand times. Is it so hard to remember ?! Black - black, night, death, space! .. - His voice broke into a scream. - Is it really so difficult! I asked you to come just for one night! For a short interval between sunset and sunrise! You gave me hope. Why did you say “Yes!” ?! Why did I write this damn letter ?!
Black nervously and swiftly headed for the exit. Formless scraps of words flew in their wake. A milky fog fell over the City. Someone pushed in the shoulder. Trembling fingers reached for cigarettes. The tutu fell out of my hands. Someone's foot stepped on her. For the better. For the better. Hate you!
Returning home, he closed the doors with an English lock and drew the curtains. The room was filled with loud heavy music. An image of someone else's face appeared on the screen of the mirror. A weekly stubble grew through the cyanotic stains. Black circles under the eyes. Black is black. The heavy ashtray touched the surface of the huge mirror. Shards littered the floor. Black was lying on the bed. Shoulders shook violently from crying ...
After sunset, the room plunged into darkness. Silence. Someone breathed pleasantly down the back of the head. Clothes flew to the far corner. There were only black shoes on my feet. On sharp stiletto heels.
- Did you call me? I could not visit you right away, - dry lips covered the body with kisses. (Sometimes his ex-wife came to see him). - It will get easier now. I missed you. Why did he pick it up? What did he tell you? I'm so tired of it all. If I could bring everything back. If this were a dream, I would find the strength to wake up. Forgive me. Sorry. It's all my fault. I'm tired of him. We had "nothing" for four months. He is disgusting to me. You know how it is ...
Black didn’t let her finish. He pressed the familiar hot body to himself and jerked him over onto his back. She sighed convulsively. She closed her eyes. The light from the street lamp seeped through the curtains. Glistened wet on bitten lips. Fingers gathered the sheet into a ball. Lacquered nails dug into the hard mattress. She screamed weakly. The black shoe fell like a blot on the bed, the glass on the floor ...

He forbade himself to go to the store. He worked on his brain. There must be a nerve somewhere, responsible for ... controlling ... responsible for ... for this love ... for this passion. At every mention of her - a painful shock. It is incurable. The blizzard outside the window laughs. It is incurable. The kettle has been boiling on the stove for ages. The ashtray is full of crumpled, speckled filters. Doorbell...
She came herself.
To his house.
Late in the evening.
I left a fur coat and the scent of French perfume in the hallway.
They were together for ten minutes. Doorbell. One more. How many friends he has! Turns out. Appeared. Another call. The evening is poisoned. There is laughter in the kitchen. How many people! He treated them to coffee. Im coffee. They have coffee in them. The earrings in his ears glittered with a fake diamond. She laughed at an unfortunate joke. Black spilled some coffee on his trousers. He sat in silence. The TV was on behind the wall. The actor poured lead hail on the enemies. Muscular arms confidently gripped the machine gun. It is a pity that there is no machine gun. It's a pity. It's a pity. One horn is enough to turn the kitchen into a slaughterhouse. In the dying moment, her gaze will beg for mercy. She will be ready for anything. A few short bursts can interrupt this stupid laugh. Get rid of friends.
And then everyone went to see her off. Black was left alone. The laughter faded away. He knew that she would choose one of the escorts. He knew exactly who. He knew this because the one she chose had no idea what he might know. I didn't know. What can. What has she already chosen ... What can know ... Black grabbed the table top. Cups of unfinished coffee flew to the floor ...

I need to know for sure - yes or no, - Black leaned heavily on the counter. “You see what has become of me. He touched his face and pressed it lightly. The skin is wrinkled. Burst. The flap came off, exposing the rotten meat.
A sweetish corpse smell crept to her nostrils.
- I'm decomposing. Slowly dying. ”A large tear of coagulated blood rolled down Black's cheek. - Do you see this? He removed his glove, revealing a bone. - There is still some fabric left on it. There will be nothing tomorrow. I need your body or your refusal.
She didn't listen to him. She talked about the bar. (She loved beer.) Talked about a new foreign car that appeared in the city.
- Speed. Imagine, she develops a breakneck speed. Once my friend invited me to go for a drive. Oh, that was great! He took...
- I love you, you fool !! - the scream flew past her and smashed into smithereens against the wall. “Say yes and I'll buy you this damn car! Two cars ... and a bar ... I'll buy you everything ... the whole ... universe! Just give me your love or your body! Give me your body one night. Or not". Say never. This is such a trifle. I ... - Black choked on a suffocating cough.
- You have a friend? she asked when Black was silent.
- You know.
- And are you ready to die for him? Well ... if, for example, a situation arises when ...
- Why do you need this?
- Romantic! - she laughed loudly. “You are a pathetic romantic. Medieval knight. Don Quixote. She burst out into a sinister laugh. - Give me your body ... - She went into hysterics. - For the night ... the Universe ... Yes or no ... Yes or ... never. Get out, you idiot!
A heavy bottle of deodorant grabbed from the shelf hit Black hard in the temple. She grabbed the second one. - I sleep with your friend, you hear, pathetic worthless scum! Get out, I don't want to know you anymore! We sleep with your friend! Satisfied? You forced me! You ruined everything! A little more, and nothing would be left of you. You would rot. You would decompose before my eyes, but you would not know anything. You ruined everything. I hate you!

Mania. Dummy. She froze into a magnificent ingot of plastic. A man in a porter's uniform came to change her dress. She was naked. Someone else's hands were rummaging through the body. She closed her eyelids languidly, flashing a glass eye. But Black was already free.
Black remembered that today was exactly one year since he saw her for the first time. The railway ticket office was open. A ticket for everything. Going nowhere. Everything remains in the past. The cashier smiled perplexedly. The conductor looked at the ticket for a long time. Weird...
The dummy worked in the same store. In the afternoon. (She loved beer in the evening.) A friend got a job as a loader. He was slowly dying. His body was decomposing. A new foreign car has appeared in the city. But Black didn't care. He was already far away.
1999 year
From collections

Recently, more and more often I begin to listen to various stories and stories of relatives and friends, at least a little connected with mysticism or unexplained phenomena. Here is one of them.
A family of three, the outskirts of Moscow, panel nine-story building with a loggia. Our heroes live on the 7th floor in a two-room apartment. Mom Galina is a seamstress, dad Igor is a museum worker, daughter Marisha, five years old, goes to the kindergarten and often walks in the evenings with her mother on the playground in the courtyard of the house.
Nothing unusual happened in the family, except that after the move, the sister of the father of the family asked to shelter their parrot of the “necklace” breed for some time until the renovation was completed in the new apartment. Yasha, as the new pet was called, was old and very smart. I walked around the house on my own, climbed into a huge cage to sleep, ate modestly and knew about 40 words and phrases like “if you want to eat, fry the cutlets”, “the truth is somewhere nearby!”, “Yasha is good”, “I want to go to Crimea”, “ strangers on the doorstep! "," bird in the house - the cat's death! " With a five-year-old child, the bird developed a very warm, one might even say, quivering relationship: Yasha gently hummed something to the girl in the evenings, allowed himself to be stroked, touched by the tail and, when the radio was turned on at full volume, danced like a professional dancer right on the back of the crib. In general, the family accepted Yasha as their own, and at a referendum at dinner they recognized him as an honorary member of their modest unit of society.
The idyll ended after my father brought a huge plastic mannequin from work, explaining that an exhibition was held in the museum at which costumes of various peoples of the world were presented, and at its end this particular exhibit turned out to be not entirely serviceable, and it was decided to dispose of it. Remembering that his wife often complained about the lack of a model for sewing, the caring husband asked to give the mannequin to him. So a huge doll with a face painted in the style of a Japanese samurai appeared in their two-room apartment, but at the same time naked, since the costume, of course, was not given away in the museum. "Yaposhka", as the girl called the doll, lived on a glassed-in balcony adjacent to the nursery. Yasha received the samurai coldly, only cast a skeptical glance in his direction.
As I mentioned earlier, the girl's mother was engaged in cutting and sewing, and then the day came when she finally needed a model. Going into the nursery in the evening, Galina froze for a moment, seized by superstitious horror. From the window, a stern, distorted with hatred, pale face looked directly at her, it seemed to be peering into a cozy room where her daughter was playing peacefully. The voice of Marisha brought Galina out of her stupor: “Mommy, don't be afraid! Yaposhka is kind! "
A few days later, history repeated itself, but now it looked truly strange, since Galya remembered exactly that she had left the mannequin in the corner of the loggia with her head towards the street window. How the doll's face was again turned into the nursery window remained a mystery, because this would require the doll to turn its body 180 ° on its own. The Jap was again turned towards the street and covered his head with a terrible face with a basin for washing clothes.
At night Igor was awakened by a roar coming from the nursery and accompanied by the cry of his daughter and the cry of Yasha. Rushing to the noise, he saw the following picture: Marina was sitting on the bed, covering her face with her hands, and crying, the basin with which the mannequin was covered was lying on the floor of the loggia, and the doll's head was again peering into the nursery window. But most of all the parents were frightened by the parrot, which got out of the cage and yelled in a bad voice: “Aliens! Strangers! Strangers on the doorstep! "
The family council was convened the next day. The girl refused to explain anything, saying that she woke up from a terrible rumble. The parrot, on the contrary, all day without interruption, repeated and repeated the same phrase as an instinct: “Strangers! Strangers! ”, Refused to eat and leave the cage. In the end, the parents decided that the daughter, most likely, went out onto the loggia herself and dropped her pelvis, and the parrot got scared in his old age and is now experiencing stress. Marina was read the notation and strictly forbade one to go out to the loggia and touch the dummy.
A couple of days later, the girl asked her dad to take the scary doll out of the house, since Yasha and she are afraid of the mannequin, he walks around the loggia at night and knocks his plastic fingers on the nursery window, and you also have to keep the curtains drawn so as not to see the pale, distorted face. Seeing how excited the girl is, the father decides to take the doll back to the museum in the morning. Marina is put to bed, but after a few hours the parents again run to the nursery to the noise and screams of the child.
This time the picture looked quite wild: the balcony door was wide open, Marisha was standing on the bed with her arms around the pillow like a shield, and on the floor was a mannequin, on whose head a parrot fiercely beats a painted face with its beak.
No one could explain what exactly happened in the room, the child was reassured and taken to sleep with his parents, the parrot was barely dragged away from the doll and put in a cage, from where he yelled for a long time and tried to get out, wielding his beak. Igor took the dummy into the trash the same night, since the face and head of the doll were disfigured by a bird to the point of being unrecognizable.
Peace returned to the family only a month later, the fear was forgotten, Marina again moved to sleep in the nursery, and Yasha was released from the cage. The relationship between the girl and the parrot became even warmer, now the bird slept exclusively on the back of the crib, as if on guard, not leaving the post until morning. And when Igor's sister returned after the completion of the repair for the pet, Marina made a real scandal, barricaded herself in the nursery with a parrot and said that she would not give Yasha or she would go after him to live with her aunt. As a result, the bird was left to the girl, and Igor promised his sister to compensate for the loss by paying for his summer vacation.