Let's talk (part3)

Their steps were slow, as if Leonid was mindful of Charlotte's weak steps, and she followed him in silence until he led her to the dining table.

He sat her down on the chair, then pushed the cup of coffee towards her and spoke in a calm yet firm voice.

"Drink, it will help warm you up. And don't forget the pastries."

He placed the plate of pastries in front of her, then sat across from her, silently watching her as she held the paper cup of coffee in her hands, bringing it to her trembling lips to take a small sip.

Warm... and sweet.

She swallowed her first sip, and for the first time since leaving the bathroom, she felt a warm heat spread through her body.

She wanted to thank him. To apologize. But her tongue betrayed her.

In the background, the woman's voice from the news channel filled the silence between them, but it wasn't enough to dispel the tension that had settled in the room.

Leonid raised his hand and rubbed his face in frustration. He was angry... and disappointed in her.

Charlotte was nibbling on small pieces of pastry, the crunchy, stuffed taste tickling her senses and filling her empty stomach, but she couldn't ignore the other feeling that slowly began to crawl into her heart.

"[We've received footage from one of the grocery store cameras.]"

Charlotte froze at the words spoken by the woman on the news channel.

"[It shows a woman being physically attacked by a strange man.]"

In contrast, Leonid remained calm, his eyes watching the reaction that overtook Charlotte, while the announcer continued speaking through the screen of his phone lying on the table.

In a slow motion, Charlotte gently set the coffee cup down, but it wasn't a natural calm. Her black eyes widened, her gaze fixed on the phone screen. The light emitting from it reflected in her pupils, while the footage continued to show the details of the assault, blurring the victim's features to protect her identity.

But for Charlotte, nothing was hidden.

In that moment, she felt as though the entire world was pointing its fingers at her, as if the room was closing in around her, as if the air had become too heavy to enter her lungs. Her breaths gradually slowed, making it seem as though she could no longer breathe.

The blaring sirens drowned her ears, leaving her with nothing but the sound of her racing heartbeat.

Leonid watched her silently, his eyes focused on her lips, which had barely regained their color moments ago, but now were pale again. He lowered his gaze to her hands... her fingers were digging her nails into her skin as though trying to pull something stuck beneath it.

Her lips trembled, as if choking on the bitterness of the memory. She scratched a small wound, then quickly hid her hands beneath the table, almost instinctively, as though trying to conceal the marks of her breakdown. But her other hand slowly rose and covered her neck, as if she were trying to make sure that hand wasn't there, not choking her once again.

Her rapid breathing increased, gasping as though she were about to lose control completely, her fingers kneading her skin.

"[We women are always at risk, but the real danger is staying silent...]"

"Silent...?"

Charlotte murmured weakly, her trembling fingers gripping her neck, as if trying to protect herself before she was swept away by the whirlpool of memories.

After seeing her collapse, Leonid suddenly turned off his phone and slowly stood up. His steps were calm, yet heavy, as if they carried more than what appeared. He stood before her and gently lifted her chin with his index finger, forcing her to look at him.

"Charlotte, are you okay?"

He asked in a calm tone, as though he were someone unaware, as though he wasn't the man who had ordered the camera footage to be shown on the news... at this very moment.

"Do you still feel cold? My God, you look like you've seen a ghost. Is it really that news channel report that scared you?"

"I... I'm fine."

Her words came out with difficulty, as if she was forcing herself to believe it. Slowly, she moved her hand away from her neck, as though she hadn't just choked herself moments ago. She closed the wide collar of her shirt, then lifted her eyes to Leonid.

Tears were gathering at the corners of her eyes, begging to escape, but she held herself together.

She had to hold it together. Not now. Not after everything she had been through.

"As you know, if you need to talk about anything, I'm always here."

Leonid whispered softly, his eyes watching Charlotte intently. His finger gently caressed her chin, then he raised his hand to softly cup her cheek, a gesture full of tenderness, as if trying to reassure her.

And a silent apology.

Leonid leaned in slightly, pressing a gentle kiss to her full lips, trying to transfer some of his warmth to her.

"Who allowed something like this to be aired?"

The police officer frowned, shocked, feeling disgusted by the news' tendency to exploit tragic incidents, as if lives could be sold in the markets of trivial scenes. He seemed angry at how suffering had been turned into a commodity.

"We can't do anything to stop this kind of human trafficking."

Pyotr muttered helplessly, sensing the bitterness of the reality he lived in. His voice was low, as though the words came out of him without hope. The same helplessness that the police felt in front of the media, which controlled the narrative, and he himself felt that any attempt to confront it would be futile.

"By the way, Officer Pyotr, did you interrogate the homeless man you caught?"

The police officer changed the course of the conversation with a nonchalant tone.

"Who?"

Pyotr replied, raising an eyebrow in question, trying to focus on his colleague's words. He seemed lost for a moment.

"The homeless man found next to the alley of the cursed apartment building, recently dubbed the pet killer."

The department head intervened in the middle of the conversation while quickly shuffling papers on the table. He spoke coldly, as if discussing a pet killer had become a routine matter for him, despite the harshness of the words.

"Ah... is he really the killer?"

Pyotr asked, a deep doubt appearing on his face. Feelings of suspicion and questioning were swirling in his mind, but he tried to stay calm, unable to fully believe the accusation, though something about the situation didn't seem right.

"That's what he's claiming. Well, you can go and interrogate him."

The department head said, standing up and heading toward the door. His tone was decisive, signaling that there was no more time for doubt or thought, only action.

"Alright, I'll go take a look."

Pyotr slowly stood up, putting on his heavy coat, which clung to his shoulders as if it were an additional burden on him, before heading toward the investigation department.

On his way out, he noticed sharply that Vasili was no longer present. His absence was expected, as if he had never been there at all; since the morning, all his personal belongings that had been piled on the desk he used had disappeared, and now the place was empty, as though no one had ever been there.

But Alia was still sitting in her place, occasionally wandering around, her demeanor exuding nothing but a false calm. Her eyes were cold as ice since yesterday, as though something had changed in her as well.

Pyotr quickly grabbed a cup of coffee before entering the interrogation room, where the homeless man was. His files were full of confessions about his crimes against pets and homeless people on the streets, adding an atmosphere of brutality and savagery to the room.

Pyotr entered the quiet room, where the homeless man was sitting on a chair in the center of the room, his hands handcuffed in front of him. The dim light from the overhead lamp cast some shadows on the simple white walls of the room. The room lacked any details, except for a small metal table in front of him, and two wooden chairs, one for the accused and the other for the investigator.

Pyotr sat on the opposite chair, adjusted his papers in front of him, and then looked at the man across from him. The man, with disheveled black hair, appeared calm, but his face showed clear signs of fatigue, as if the many years he had spent on the streets had left their mark on him.

"You are accused of killing pets and homeless people on the streets. And finally, you are accused of killing a puppy in an apartment you tried to rob, but failed. Please explain your position, why all of this?"

Pyotr said in a calm voice, trying to avoid any escalation as he closed the file.

The homeless man looked at Pyotr, his eyes clouded, as if trying to gather his thoughts before responding. After a moment, he spoke softly.

"What I killed... it wasn't for fun. I just wanted to help them."