– He told me I could do anything» I answered shortly: my instincts told me I shouldn't have talked about Cedric too much, and I regretted bringing him into my sister's conversation.
Now she was going to give him the full scolding!
– Cedric! You're the one to listen to! – Mariszka said harshly, clearly angry.
– I don't know what you're angry about. – I was surprised, feeling irritated by this conversation.
– Exactly, that you do not understand! That's enough moralising for today. Now I'm going to call my parents and tell them not to let you go anywhere! Are they crazy or what?
– You wouldn't dare! – I shrieked, but she had already hung up.
Throwing the smartphone on the bed, I jumped out of bed and ran to my parents' room to somehow prevent them from changing their minds about my admission.
«Well, Mariszka! This is unimaginable! My own sister wants to put such a piggyback on me!» – I thought resentfully, knocking on my parents' room.
But there was no answer. I listened: I couldn't hear their voices anywhere in the house. So they had gone somewhere.
«What shall we do? Mariszka will ruin everything!» – I thought with despair.
I went back to my room, sat down on my bed, hugged my knees, and was ready to cry with resentment at my sister: I was very upset, lost, did not know what to do now. I was unbearably bitter at my own fate of being forever bound to my parents' house, like a convict to a stone that would not let him escape. All my joy was killed by one phone call. And to whom? My favourite sister!
But as soon as the first tears rolled from my eyes, I hurried to wipe them away and pull myself together, lest any of my brothers or Maria come running to comfort me.
That was the inconvenience of being a vampire: it was impossible to feel free among my siblings, because they could hear my every word, my every breath, even my whispers. And that was another reason I wanted to leave home: I longed to just sit in my room or close myself in the bathroom and cry quietly. I couldn't afford that luxury at home, because I was in the palm of my hand.
I dialled Mariszka's number again, praying that she would answer the phone.
– Yes, Misha? Is something wrong? – I heard her voice.
– Yes, something's wrong! I'm begging you, I'm begging you! Don't call your parents! – I pleaded desperately.