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Time passed, and Marina practically stopped talking about Nika. She was squeezed like a lemon. I didn’t feel anything, I didn’t want to live. Yes, apart from me, Marina, there was no one for her.
Now I still believed in God, but I did not like church services and prayers at all. I did not regret the death of Roma, I got used to this idea and no longer thought about who took what from whom. Tears flowed uncontrollably at night, and by morning the veil again became before my eyes. The room was cleaned for me by a friend and at the same time scolded that I should not have let her into the house. In the end, I gave up this venture and now looked at everything differently. I became calm. I stopped going to dances, stopped crying, and now my hair was sticking out in all directions like a cat’s. I thought that for such an attractive body as I had at that time, I should have become a ballerina, but I still did not like dancing.
Two or three days later I found out about Nicky’s suicide. My daughter told me about it with great interest.
â€œYesterday Nika said that she had no more strength. She said she was tired of them. And she decided she wanted to leave. She opened the water and hanged herself. We found her in the bathroom,â€ the daughter said. Marina took a deep breath.
That night I wandered through the empty and noisy corridors of my apartment. I was scared, scared for my daughter, before whom I was completely not to blame for the fact that she was left alone. But most of all I was afraid for myself.
Three days went by quickly. I was afraid to make unnecessary movements that might seem suspicious to me. During the day we walked in the surrounding parks, and in the evening I tried to occupy myself with reading books. I knew perfectly well that after that the death of my daughter could turn into a terrible dream, and then I would wake up every night in a cold sweat.
Gradually, it began to seem to me that that night meeting and conversation with Marina and her grandson had turned something in me upside down. I dream