The Country from Hell

Closing your eyes tightly, you turn back toward the bedroom. Stepping heavily to drown out any noise that might be coming from the kitchen, you make it to the bedroom door and shut it hard behind you. You breathe in deeply, feeling your heart flutter in your chest. Something is very wrong with your mother. You can feel it deep within you. But if you don't call that boy and go to that party and make something of your miserable life, you will soon be dying in the same way she is.

Your mind now made up, you reach for the old rotary phone next to your grandmother's bed. You call the number on Szil's card, praying to the God you don't believe in that he is still there.

One ring.

Two rings.

You can barely breathe.

"Good evening, Socrates Computers," Szil's warm voice fills your ear. You choke a little. "Hello?" he asks.

"Is this Szil?" you ask stupidly.

"Indeed, Miss. And you must be that pretty injured thing who bled all over my floor this afternoon. Have you called to ask about the surge protector?"

"You know I haven't."

"About a new computer, then?"

"Please take me out tonight."

There is a small pause on the other end of the line.

"Are you all right?" Szil asks.

"Never better," you laugh nervously. "Well, do you want my address or don't you?"