The Untouchable

Chapter 86

Daniel dropped the graying lump of dough, settled on the cold floor, and shook. How could he have twisted everything in his own mind? Accused his mother of murder, of destroying their family? And forgotten, forgotten everything. To bury that day deep in his memory, to live on without remorse. To study, to enjoy every day, to anticipate a brilliant career, while his own mother rotted alive in a stone cell for him.

"Mom! Mom!" Tears came to his eyes - the first since that day, blocked by psychological barriers. "Mom, I'm sorry! Mom!" he sobbed.

"Shh, shh, shh," Baba Songolik's warm hands embraced him, rocking him from side to side. "Cry, Daniel, cry. Let the pain drain out, let the body open, let the soul return."

"I... my father... my mother... I killed them both," Daniel, baring his teeth uncontrollably, raised his face to her, calm and imperturbable. "Both of them on the same day! Listen!"

Baba Songolik shuddered but accepted the confession without surprise - clearly accustomed to hearing different things. She sat down on the floor, poured arshan into her hand, and began to rub it, humming her sad tune. Rubbing everything, soothing him, forgiving him for his own sake, recognizing his right to make mistakes. She listened, nodded measuredly, and pulled his hands away with astonishing strength when he tried to reach out, to tell her he was a murderer. She continued the ritual, as if it were more important than his confession. Gradually, Daniel became quiet.

He cried silently, weeping with longing for his mother, his grandmother, his foolish but still undeserving father, whom he had killed. The other episodes of his life - the prison horror, Sennoy, the luxurious but miserable stay with Alexander - everything paled in comparison with the day he broke every member of his family, including himself.

Baba Songolik bathed him from head to toe, rubbed him down with a stiff waffle towel, and pushed him toward the bedroom. Daniel wobbled shakily, continuing to cry the tears he had accumulated over the years - they flowed copiously, without sobbing, without screaming, releasing him from oppression, merging him into one. Today's reflective, weak, malleable self and his eighteen-year-old strong, ruthless, rabid self. The soul returned to the body. The soul reminded him that he had huge sins and debts.

Mom, poor fragile mom, had been suffering madly all these years, going crazy, losing both her husband, her family, and her future overnight. She snapped into atypical aggression, pouncing on cellmates, repaying them for her broken life. And he never once apologized to her, never asked for forgiveness, arrogantly holding on to his perspective: that she killed, destroyed their family, and nullified his educational fund for lawyers. Neglected his visits, seeing her only occasionally, looking through her, listening to her pathetic babble with irritation. He didn't appreciate her sacrifice, her belated maternal instinct. She could have confessed any day, breaking his fate, but she kept silent, bearing her cross.

The tears poured without stopping. Daniel shuddered, biting his lip, staring at the ceiling. The pillow under his head was soaking wet, stabbing with soaked feathers. Conscience pressed like a stone slab, gnawing at his gut. But with each outpouring of tears came a welcome desolation. Not forgiveness yet, but understanding, the first step toward forgiveness. Who was he then - a broken, fierce teenager, deprived of a normal childhood and adulthood, enduring periodic beatings, accustomed to lying to everyone that he had fallen, hit himself, that all was well in the family. And if he could turn back time, he would never, never, never... Deja vu resonated - that's what Alexander had said.

Baba Songolik, patting his arm, wove her words into his mournful thoughts.

"Life is neither as good nor as bad as it seems. The main thing, Daniel, is to live, no matter what. Don't forgive bad people if they are unrepentant. Don't gnaw at yourself for mistakes - that's foolish. It's better to fix what you've broken. Do you understand?"

"I understand," Daniel wiped his face with the edge of the blanket, sniffing. "Bab... Grandma, I'll be leaving soon. I'm sorry."

"I know you will. That's right. You don't want to die with old people. You're young, handsome, smart - you should fly," Baba Songolik tucked up the blanket and sighed wistfully. "Please come to me sometimes. I'm completely exhausted on my own. With you, I at least began to breathe."

"I'll try, but it's complicated," Daniel wiped his eyes again. "It couldn't be more complicated, I guess. I might not be able to get into the country. It would be too dangerous. And all in all, I'm in a total sh... in a difficult situation, I don't even have papers."

"Papers are a piece of cake. And about entry and exit: we'll live and see, what's the use of guessing ahead of time," Baba Songolik pulled the blanket higher and stood up. "I'll make you some bukhler. After the ritual, you should drink it. I have some good lamb left, good, Yengorboi lamb, and I'll sprinkle some mangir, and it will be delicious. Rest."

Daniel closed his eyes obediently, feeling immense relief at her acceptance. She, who had seen and heard so many things in her shamanic practice, hadn't thought to judge or ask for details. She was satisfied with little. If he had told more, she would have listened. And her opinion of him would not have changed. Baba Songolik looked at the world through her own eyes, perceived only through her own prism. He should be like that.

The words that fell into his newfound soul burned, reminding him of the essentials: wrongdoers should not be forgiven, and mistakes should be repaired. He had to get back to his mom as soon as possible, get her out of jail, hire lawyers, get her medically examined, and transferred to a good clinic. Which meant getting free and digging up money, lots of money. No more cowardly waiting, it was time to act. Alexander owed him a debt - Daniel grinned predatorily, breathing heavily. He would pay in full, pay for everything.

An irrepressible pity and an unrooted tenderness stabbed at his heart, but Daniel shrugged them off. His new frame of mind craved revenge and freedom, rendering everything else insignificant. His feelings were sharper, more encompassing, as if he had truly become whole today. He accepted the disgusting part of himself, which he had subconsciously blocked but which periodically burst out in moments of danger: tough, ready to do anything to achieve his goal.

Finally, a plan of action began to emerge from the chaos of numerous options: tough, risky, still crude, but with every chance of success. Daniel twitched in disgust at the unpleasant development of the plan, and turned back to the wall - today he would let himself rest, and then...