Chapter 4 – Awakening

Chapter 4 – Awakening

Drogo was heading to the restroom, his head still pounding: “Damn, I feel like shit. Still nauseous. I wonder… what did I gain after eating that bastard’s heart? I hope all this suffering is worth it”.

He posed the question to himself but received no answer. Instead, the pressure inside his skull grew sharper, the buzzing noise turned into a screeching howl. Drogo plunged his head under the faucet, letting ice-cold water crash over him. At that moment, he heard it – the voice of the essence, slicing through the noise: “Stop fucking feeling sorry for yourself. HE’S HERE!”.

The dialogue with the blind essence began.

– Who’s here?

– The boy. The one from the hospital. The one with the gift we need.

– Why the hell didn’t you say it earlier?!

– I was screaming, you freak. I could smell him. You need to find him.

Snapping upright, Drogo burst out of the restroom into the hall, his eyes scanning the bakery in desperation.

The essence hissed:

– The scent is still here… but it’s fading.

Drogo sprinted outside. The street was bustling with people. The essence twisted its unseen head from side to side, trying to catch the direction of the smell – but the wind and the overwhelming aroma of street food confused everything, turning the world into a chaotic swirl of scents.

– Well? – Drogo barked.

– Because of you – your weakness and your stupidity – we lost him.

– Shut up. You and I are the same. Our weakness.

– What now?

Drogo, fists clenched, stormed back inside. He headed for the restroom again, the essence whispering first into one ear, then the other, repeating: Weak… your fault… you are weak!… Drogo pressed his hands against his temples, grinding his teeth, trying to silence the voice. Entering the restroom, the whisper turned into a deafening shriek. He splashed cold water onto his face, rubbed his temples furiously, then raised his head and – with a roar – smashed his fist into the mirror.

The pain flared instantly, but it brought a twisted kind of relief. Lowering his gaze, he focused on his injured hand. Several fingers were obviously broken – the knuckles shattered – but the blood quickly clotted, and the torn skin began to knit itself back together. The bones remained broken, but the flesh was already healing.

Drogo stared at his hand, fascinated.

– Not bad… that’s a reward worthy of the pain, – he muttered. (The memory tore through him – the hotel room, the body beneath him, skin tightening around the clamps, sealing itself shut. He hadn’t seen it then.)

Realizing the full nature of his new ability, Drogo seized his mangled fingers and, one by one, forcefully snapped them back into place. With a disgusting crack, the bones set – and again, the flesh rapidly sealed. He washed the blood off his hand, calming down a little, and walked back out into the hall. The scent still hovered faintly in the air – a ghost of what had been – but Gobby had long gone. Drogo ordered himself a coffee and some pastries. He paid for his meal, adding extra to cover the shattered mirror. Carrying his tray, he sat near the window, sipping the hot coffee, lost in brooding thoughts.

Meanwhile, Gobby and German had made it to the seaside.

They sat on the steps leading down to the beach. The sun was already high in the sky. Gobby was devouring the pies with childlike glee, while German watched him with a quiet, delighted fascination. Wanting to break the silence, German asked something simple:

– Do you really like pies that much?

Gobby, his mouth stuffed, didn’t answer immediately. He simply raised a finger, signaling wait, as he chewed. After swallowing and taking a deep breath, he said:

– I do. I really love “Empanadas de Pino”!

German blinked, surprised.

– “Empanadas de Pino”?

– Yeah! PIES WITH STUFFING! – Gobby answered proudly.

Then, with full enthusiasm, Gobby began explaining why he loved pies so much – about the dough’s structure, the different fillings he’d tried, the process of making them, and the little tricks that could make them perfect. German was amazed. He had assumed Gobby was just a chubby guy who devoured everything indiscriminately. But now Gobby seemed even more fascinating – someone who truly appreciated food.

– Gobby, can I ask you another question? – German asked, a spark of excitement in his voice.

– Of course. You’re my friend, – Gobby answered warmly.

German, so overjoyed he nearly forgot what he wanted to ask, finally blurted out:

– How did you do it? (The image bursts in – the air around him compressed and trembling, Gobby shrinking, skin flushing red, launching himself at the bullies).

Gobby sighed, a little tired:

– Oh, German, again? I told you yesterday – I’m just strong.

– No, no, I remember, – German insisted. – I’m curious about the physiological process. How does it happen physically?

– Physiologically? Like, physically? – Gobby scratched his head. – I don’t know… I just think, “now’s the time”, and my muscles tense up. I bit my tongue really hard and got a rush of adrenaline… then I just jumped.

German mentally noted: adrenaline.

He then asked another leading question:

– When was the first time you ever did it?

Gobby paused, thinking.

– Hmm… probably during rugby. (The scene flares up – Gobby charging down the field with a football, bulldozing through opponents, crashing into the end zone, his teammates lifting him in triumph.)

– No, wait, not the first time, – Gobby corrected himself.

– Before I even started playing football, there was something else…

He glanced at the sea for a moment, gathering the memory.

– It was at school. I went into the bathroom to wash my face. I had a lollipop in my mouth, and I didn’t want to throw it away, so I carefully tucked it into the back pocket of my backpack. While I was washing up, a couple of older guys walked in – two grades above me. They decided to mess with me. I tried to ignore them and leave, but one of them noticed the lollipop sticking out, yanked it out, threw it on the floor – and it shattered.

Gobby’s voice grew heavier.

– I stopped. I turned around. I knelt down, gathered the broken pieces, wrapped them up carefully. And something inside me… just snapped.

His fists clenched unconsciously as he spoke.

– I lunged at the guy, grabbed him by the throat, slammed him against the wall, and hissed through my teeth: “You owe me a new lollipop. And remember – you NEVER mess with food. If anyone tries something like that again, YOU’LL BE LYING ON THE FLOOR INSTEAD. Got it?”

German listened, wide-eyed.

– They nodded like crazy. I let him go, and they ran. The next day, they brought me a whole pile of lollipops to apologize. Turns out they were pissed because I didn’t respect their “cool guy” status. They were the school athletes, after all.

Gobby chuckled.

– They told the school’s rugby coach about me. He personally invited me to join the team. That’s how I started playing rugby.

As Gobby finished his story, he noticed German sitting there with a small notebook and pen, scribbling furiously.

– What’s that for? – Gobby pointed at the notebook.

– I’m writing down all the interesting stuff, – German answered without looking up.

Gobby just shrugged and went back to his pies.

– So… what now? – German asked after a moment.

– What now what? – Gobby laughed.

– I don’t play football anymore. It burns too much energy. After every practice and game, I had to stuff myself with food just to recover. And I don’t like stuffing myself. I like savoring food.

German glanced at the pile of pies next to Gobby and wondered silently what “not stuffing himself” would even look like… but decided not to ask.

Gobby licked his fingers and added:

– The coach still tries to convince me to come back. And those guys? We’re friends now!

The two of them remained on the steps, their laughter and chatter blending with the distant cries of seagulls and the soft sound of waves. Around them, the morning bustle of the seaside slowly faded into the background – leaving just Gobby, German, and the simple joy of newfound friendship.