He opened his eyes, looked indifferently at the nurse fussing at his IV. The dawn burned his eyes out from the window of the ward, or maybe it was the dust that was soaking in and flowing out with muddy tears
"How is the second one?" the voice came and the doctor shook his head while standing at the head of his bed.
His heart was pounding in his twitched and ached chest. One look, one movement of doctor's head, so that the thread connecting two lives would be broken and charred. From birth they were two, only a few minutes apart. The elder Bogdan, the younger Egor - there is not a single difference.
"Hey, kid, don't roll your eyes, how many fingers?"
"Where is my brother?"
"How many fingers, kid?"
"Six. Where is he?"
"Inject him with a sedative, otherwise he'll damage his veins fussing like that. Get some sleep and let the carer pick you up" - the doctor said and came out. The nurse, to his surprise, looked at him considerately. She was young, therefore she had not emasculated her cordiality and was ready to worry about an ordinary orphanage rat...
"What is your name?" the girl's hand touched the soot on his face.
Bogdan was rude and tough, even his mother did not dare to touch him. Sometimes she remembered the children and returned to the house when they still had it. Egor grew up as a cheerful varmint, able to date with three girls at the same time and flirt with the fourth. It seems, girlish hands reached out to him unconsciously.
He always had to be looked after, pulled out of troubles, dragged home by the scruff of the neck, when, forgetting, he chatted with his fans until late at night. Bogdan cursed, and Egor stretched his lips in a smile, and the elder brother could not resist his bright nonchalance. One life was shared with two hearts. And death came for only one of them.
He beat off someone's hand and put his own one on burning eyes, blocking choking tears. No one will be confused with their identical faces anymore, miss the name and apologize for the mistake.
"Bogdan", an answer came, and a traitorous tear ran down his cheek, burning the skin more than the fire which devoured their lives and destinies just a few hours ago.
"My name is Bogdan", he replied again.
***
The month before the committee on juvenile affairs, incited by the school psychologist and the deputy for education, finally discovered that Bogdan and Egor's mother had disappeared from the horizon for a year already. The adults burst into the house, groaned and gasped, complained about the negligent parent, made compassionate speeches, and then busily grabbed the twins and threw them first into a boarding school "before trials", and then into an orphanage on the outskirts of the regional capital. Oh, and then Egor was freaking out, even offered him to run away, and sulked when Bogdan refused.
They were brought in a small bus along with a dozen newcomers of different ages. Someone was transferred from another city, someone went to such a place for the first time and timidly stared at the gray bulk of their future home growing in the window. Almost all of them turned out to be toddlers of about twelve years old. There was only one teenager like them, huddled in the very corner and glaring at those around him with shining blue-green eyes. Bogdan looked at him, noticing too spacious, obviously second-hand, clothes, and shifted his gaze to the building outside the window. Egor, on the other hand, was staring wide-eyed, even an unfamiliar boy fidgeted under his gaze and looked sullenly in response.
"What are you doing?" Egor fussed with a nudge under his ribs and turned to his twin.
"He is like a doll," the younger one confessed ingenuously, his olive eyes were burning with interest. Sometimes his passion for everything that is beautiful and unusual led to hiccups. He himself was not poor in natural colors, black-haired and black-eyed, he adored everything bright and beautiful, and flirt with each girl in the area, who differed from their rivals. It was about makeup - hair color, a mole on the cheek, an unusual haircut. That guy in the corner looked at the world with peacock eyes - even in the darkness of the cabin it seemed that these were lenses, the colors turned out to be so juicy and clean.
"He's a guy," Bogdan reminded, snapped his brother to teach him a lesson and then got off the bus.
To their genuine surprise, the boy, whom they were talking about, opened the door of their room and, without introducing himself, took a trump seat by the window, dropping a voluminous backpack with his stuff onto the bed.
His name was Kirill, he was also the same age, and he also got into the world of abandoned children as an adult sane person. True, his mother did not leave him, his parents died, and somehow it turned out that no one wanted to adopt him, although there was money in the family, and there were certainly relatives. Maybe that's why he was so sullen and twitched at any appeal. For the first time even the tutors were afraid not of Bogdan, but of a skinny underage with a doll face, as the younger brother said (and was punched by Kirill for that).
Bogdan chose a bed with only a closet adjacent to the wall, immediately cutting himself off from the others - he treated his neighbor in the same way. It was Egor who stuck to the boy like glue, made him tell his story and told his own. At once he thought of Kirill as his friend. They even sat at the same desk at school*. Bogdan also endured this. He was mad at them just when these two bastards escaped from the orphanage. Bogdan kicked his own brother and punched his friend. Since then, he and Kirill did not communicate at all, did not even greet each other, but when Bogdan tried to brainwash Egor, he himself got into a fight with the twin.
That day they ran away from the orphanage again. It would have been better if they had tried to escape, as planned, and not turned into the neighboring multi-storey wreck. It was not for nothing that there were bad rumors about the building among the guys - some talked about ghosts, others about fugitives. Adults forbade anyone to go there because of its disrepair.
***
- Evseev*, why did you go there? - the investigator on duty, sent from the local police department to clear his conscience and make a mark in the annual report, caught Bogdan already on discharge, right here at the nurse's post and sat him down for an intimate conversation. The policeman was a middle-aged, stocky man, more reminiscent of a unceremonious and corrosive bulldog.
"I ran after my brother," Bogdan answered dryly.
"Why did he go there?" the investigator asked.
***
The long-term building that remained from Perestroika* was situated next to the orphanage, supported on the other side by a vacant lot. The building did not belong to the territory of the orphanage. To get into it was not a complicated task. One had to go through the orphanage playground, turn around the boiler room and squeeze through a gap in the fence, where the slabs had moved slightly to the sides from old age. Kids fled to the city to earn extra money or to breathe in imaginary freedom, and the tutors turned a blind eye to this reluctantly as long as the kids were at roll call. But sometimes there were daredevils who climbed to this damned giant building, and, as a rule, it ended with broken arms and legs. Bogdan didn't understand why go there if there are no adults who can help. Just as he didn't understand Kirill's obsessive desire to walk there. Well, he would have left on his own, he dragged Egor there too.
***
"Ask Kirill, the two of them went there together," Bogdan said.
At the same time, pin down the bastard so that he doesn't harass anyone else.
"Your tutor said that you and your brother had a fight because of Elagin* that day," the investegator said again.
Well, they started quarrels almost every day because of him. Egor was obsessed with the boy, followed him everywhere and almost drooled. Disgusting.
The investigator decided that the guy was keeping silent and drove up from the other side.
"How did you get there?" he asked.
"I walked there. Then climbed upstairs," Bogdan answered curtly.
"And you knew exactly where to look for Egor in the burning building, didn't you?" the interrogator's voice became completely unctuous, and Bogdan thought and that there would be no sense to tell about the others. It wouldn't add confidence to him, but they might smack him around the neck in the evening.
"If I had known, I wouldn't have let him break," the guy answered dryly.
"How do you know that he crashed and didn't burn in a fire?" this bastard immediately seized on the clause.
"I count to three, there was the only shot", remembered Bogdan.
***
There was a window hole and exit to the patio. And three floors of emptiness were below them. The neighboring building with window gaps was seen. One can even jump up to it without accelerating, just stretch out arms and push with feet. And he might definitely catch on the parapet of the balcony.
"One..." - he said.
And he was thrown by his twin brother into a cache of scaffolding, flooring and cinder blocks piled in the corner. He couldn't even breathe because of being punched in the chest by his brother's fist, let alone scream. The whole floor was in such piles, no one would shake them up in search of someone who shouldn't have been there.
"Two!" - he shouted.
And he was pushed in the back...
***
Bogdan was never known for his tolerance towards people, and he always tried not to loose his fists. But they lived in a village and people there mostly knew each other and if he did, no one would give a brawler or troublemaker a part-time job, that's why he still managed to scare away all the local punks. Egor even made a sign on the door: "Caution. There's an evil Bogdan in the house, ooh!" just for fun.
The in front of him immediately lost his face when Bogdan silently pressed his fingers into his throat and squeezed.
"I see, I see, you didn't kill your brother," the investigator gurgled, his face turning blue. Bogdan shook off the nurse who had come running from the post and went out into the hall to see the tutor.
***
Life in an orphanage was reminiscent of a split personality. During the day, the guys poured into classes, studied and pretended preparing for life outside the walls, but more often, those who could, ran into the city. Here they could steal or help carry boxes at the factory and earn money. Sometimes traders from the market themselves dropped in to see the Headmaster of the orphanage and "hired" workers, of course, already proven tadpoles who were smart enough to stand behind the counter, sell and not pocket the proceeds. The Headmaster received money, the mercenary was fed, for god's sake, especially considering that the orphanage's cooking was not distinguished by variety or taste. In general, as Bogdan quickly realized, the world outside the fence was not at all like the world in the orphanage. You had to pay for everything, and delicious food often replaced money because there were tensions with both. The money that the brothers brought with them was stolen on the first night. And they would like to fight but there were no proofs. The fragmentary things about orphanage that they once saw on TV did not even closely resemble a real home for abandoned children. Officially, tutors and teachers, "adults," looked after the orphans. They came here to work and even if they lived in shifts, they were still strangers, those who came from the outside world and returned there. You could show them a broken arm, complain about a burnt-out light bulb in the bedroom, or ask where the right office was. That's what they worked here for.
But behind their backs, the children's pack lived according to the merciless wolf laws, where the weak was broken and devoured by the stronger one. Here were those who were useful. The were just those chosen ones who could go out and earn money or steal successfully and not get caught. They were loved, cherished and brought closer to the top. There were informers and slanderers, these were also brought closer to the top, although neither the bottom nor the top liked them. And there was also the elite and there was dirt.
Bogdan and Egor were able to identify the top almost immediately. Whether it was because of cruelty, intelligence or strength, a dozen devils sat at the top of the caste pyramid and pulled the strings of the other pack, and they were feared much more than the angry tutor. On the very first evening, a guy with shiny blond hair walked into the self-training room. He was just an ordinary guy, not the tallest, not the strongest, smaller than Bogdan in the shoulders and waist, except that he was dressed in bright clothes that had not faded, like most people. But most of all Bogdan remembered his smile. His beautiful full lips did not even curl when he beat up the boy stretching at his feet because he didn't have time to get out of the way of the newcomer in time. And the blonde boy's eyes shined joyfully when he looked at newcomers. It was a good impressive performance. There was another caste below. They were the most worthless ones, called "beating toys", such as are kept at hand just for demonstrative executions. Bogdan figured out and told Egor not to try to help, and in general to keep silent.
"We could have hit him. Why did you stop me?!" the younger twin asked furiously while they were sitting in the in the bedroom.
"You don't understand, do you? This is how we got to know each other. Or did you want to take that guy's place?"Bogdan asked calmly.
"This is not a security colony with the authorities and the lowered," Egor said gloomily fussing under the blanket.
"Yes". Bogdan asked as lying in his clothes on top of the unmade bed, looking at the ceiling.
"This is much, much worse," he added.
***
Bogdan returned from the hospital at dusk, but Kirill was not in the room, he came at night, stinking of smoke and covered in construction dust.
"Egor, do you have any painkillers? I have a terrible headache," he asked.
Bogdan was not going to beat him. Actually, he intended to, but not right now. But his brain was clouded with the sounds of another name. The fist flew up faster than Kirill could even close his eyes. Bogdan hit him in the stomach and the other party bent over, gasping for breath.
"What are you doing?" Kirill managed to babble, and Bogdan grabbed his hair. This winding long strands were not tied up but long enough to twirl it over the brush so that he wouldn't turn his face away.
"It hurts!" Kirill cried.
"He's dead! Fuck, I wanted to beat you silently... Do you hear, you bastard, my brother is dead!" Bogdan yelled and punched him to the chest. The thin boy flew against the wall, slamming his back into it.
"It's your fault!" Bogdan went on yelling.
" You are... you are... not Egor?" Kirill was confused.
Usually that bastard was much smarter.
The boy slid down the wall to the floor and Bogdan kicked him in the stomach, in the shoulders. Kirill didn't know how to fight. He grew up as a home child, who lived in warmth and comfort. Once he got here, he avoided all the guys, and on his cute face there was always a grimace of disgust, as if he had been squirming around in the mud. Within a week, Egor had become friends with his classmates, but Kirill didn't even remember the name of the teacher. A vile little creature who doesn't want to hang around in an orphanage and encouraged her "friend" to escape.
"Don't you dare say his name!!!" Bogdan couldn't stop shouting.
"Bogdan," the stunned Kirill muttered with broken lips. He cunned and pushed away the brutal neighbor with his feet, quickly rolled under the bed, and flashed his peacock eyes from under it.
For a moment, Bogdan felt almost ashamed because beating this little bastard was the same as beating a girl. He wasn't a muscleman himself, but one can put this guy with the weight of a lamb on one palm and slam him with the other.
"Get out," Bogdan spat.
The boy briefly jerked his head convulsively and glanced at the door. Maybe someone would have screamed and come running to help, but in addition to disgust and arrogance, this runt had a ton of pride. Well, of course, at first these vices were also admired.
"Get out, I won't hit you again." Bogdan said. Kirill heard him definitely walk back to his bed.
He believed Bogdan went away and pulled himself out of his shameful hiding place. Bogdan immediately rushed towards him, pushed him in the back, pressing him against the door with his stomach, and hung on top.
"Where have you been?!" Bogdan shouted with the fingers dug into his hair again, darkened from the dust of the bed to buckwheat, and pulled the head back.
"Let me go, it hurts," Kirill still hissed.
"Where have you been all this time?!" you and him went to the building together and you came across those freaks, but when you were scurrying away, only Egor was caught. My brother died because of you!" - Bogdan shouted.
"I... I'm sorry..." Kirill said quietly.
Bogdan peeled his hand off the door, put it behind his back and lifted it up, twisting it. Kirill could not stand it and still screamed, briefly and muffled, so that no one would hear. As soon as he was enraged by such a noise, Bogdan pressed, turning the bone out of the joint.
"Where have you been? Are you too proud to call for help? They pushed him from the third floor!" Bogdan cried. Kirill kicked his leg and missed the blow to the shin, only further inciting the attacker.
"Cry!" Bogdan demanded gloomily.
"What?" Kirill's eyes widened in horror, Bogdan quite clearly saw himself in their reflection. He might be crazy. He was pale, shaggy, teeth clenched, the nodules on his cheekbones shaking.
"Cry for help," Bogdan said sternly.
"N... no..." Kirill muffled.
"Otherwise I'll hurt you," Bogdan warned.
Kirill's lower lip was slightly shorter than his upper one, always slightly parted. Now his lips were stubbornly pursed. Bogdan swung and slammed his fist under his rib, drawing out a groan. But he only knocked out his soul. The stubborn boy rolled his eyes and collapsed at the feet of the winner.
**********************
at the same desk at school* - in Russian schools there are desks for two students to sit at.
Evseev - Bogdan and Egor's last name
Perestroika - the 80's years in the USSR
Elagin - Kirill's last name
ns 15.158.61.54da2
