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Герой-котик рятує від небезпеки

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Котик врятував від біди

Я придбала однокімнатну квартиру в старому районі міста. Місце не найкраще, але багато грошей у мене не було, тому вибирала з того, що було. Квартира велика та світла, стелі високі. Лише під’їзд брудний і старий, а на вулицях майже немає молоді. Але я все одно була щаслива, бо це було моє перше велике придбання.

За роки, проведені в гуртожитку, я забула, що таке власний куток. З часом квартира стала здаватися холодною і дуже порожньою. Втім, вона і справді була такою — меблів майже не було, штори ще не купила. Планувала, що буду потроху обзаводитися всім цим.

Вечорами в квартирі чулося ехо і звук моїх кроків. Це трохи напружувало і навіть лякало, але нічого не могла вдіяти. Купівлю всієї меблів і ремонт одночасно я фінансово не могла собі дозволити.

Одного разу вночі я прокинулася від того, що задихалася. На грудях наче лежало щось важке. Кожен вдих давався важко. Я спробувала підвестися, проте не змогла. Мене наче притиснуло до ліжка. У страху я крутила головою, намагаючись вийти з цього стану. В якийсь момент мені стало легше. Я змогла вдихнути вільно. Жадібно ковтаючи повітря, я почула, як підлога скрипнула, наче хтось вийшов із кімнати. Підлога в квартирі була стара, і під час ходи дошки прогиналися.

З острахом я оглянула кімнату, але нічого не виявила. Колеги на роботі, вислухавши історію, сказали, що це міг бути сонний параліч. Хтось навіть порадив звернутися до лікаря, але я вирішила поки що зачекати. Може, це було випадкове явище.

Однак, через декілька ночей все повторилося. Я знову задихалася, а потім хтось утікав із кімнати. Цього разу, крім скрипу дощок, я почула легке постукування, наче в утікача були дуже довгі нігті.

І навіть цей випадок не примусив мене піти до лікаря. Два тижні я спокійно жила, поки дивний стан не повторився. Цього разу, крім відчуттів тяжкості, з’явилося відчуття стисненого горла. Я задихалася, майже втрачала свідомість. У якийсь момент мене відпустило, і знову почулися кроки.

На ранок я виявила на шиї дивні сліди. Це були синці. Хтось насправді душив мене вночі. Я сильно перелякалася і вирішила не повертатися в квартиру.

Дві ночі я провела у подруги. Вона повела мене до ворожки, яка запевнила, що на мене навели порчу і пообіцяла очистити від неї. Разом ми поїхали до моєї квартири. Екстрасенс довго проводила обряд, запевнивши, що очищення пройшло успішно і тепер я можу спати спокійно. Я розплатилася з жінкою, і вона пішла.

Я лягала спати з чистою душею, але вночі мене знову душили. Я прокинулася від відчуття тяжкості, мені не вистачало повітря. Схопившись за горло, я відчула чиїсь шершаві, дуже холодні руки. Я спробувала закричати, але марно. Тоді я спробувала розтиснути хватку невідомої, у відповідь почувся шипіння. Я чітко усвідомила, що мене хтось душить, сидячи на грудях. Наша боротьба тривала деякий час. Потім сутність відпустила мене і знову втекла з кімнати, стукаючи нігтями по підлозі.

Перелякано я вибігла з квартири. Постіявши кілька хвилин на сходовому майданчику, ухвалила рішення повернутися. Заснути більше не змогла. Задувши світло, я просиділа до ранку на кухні.

На роботі всі помітили моє сіре, втомлене обличчя. Я не стала казати колегам, що сталося, і просто послалася на втому. Повернутися в квартиру було страшно, тому я попросилася переночувати у подруги. Але треба було взяти речі з дому, тому після роботи я поїхала до себе.

Піднімаючись сходами, я зустріла свою сусідку бабу Ганну. Вона тримала в руках коробку. Літня жінка зупинила мене і запитала, чи не потрібен мені кошеня.

Я зазирнула в коробку. У ній сидів милий біленький котик з добрими очима. Баба Ганна розповіла, що підібрала малесенького біля магазину і тепер шукає для нього господарів. Не знаю, чим керувалася, але чомусь погодилася взяти котика собі. Напевно, мені було страшно повертатися до квартири одній навіть на кілька хвилин.

З котиком на руках я відчинила двері у своє житло. У кімнатах було тихо. Я відпустила котика, а сама пішла в спальню збирати речі. Через кілька хвилин я почула, як мій пухнастий улюбленець голосно зашипів. Я забігла на кухню. Кіт стояв посеред неї і, уставившись в кут, голосно шипів. Його хутро стояло дибки. Я не розуміла, що відбувається.

Кіт рішуче підбіг до стіни і почав дірвати старі шпалери. Вони залишилися від колишніх господарів. Я хотіла відтягнути його, але потім згадала численні історії про те, що коти відчувають потойбічні сили.

Разом з моїм пухнастим другом я почала здирати зі стіни шпалери. У кутку я побачила заглиблення, обклеєне газетами. Зірвавши їх, я виявила дивний згорток. Діставши його і розгорнувши, я мало не знепритомніла. Всередині лежали кістки, пір’я, сіль і невелика фотографія.

Зі старого знімка на мене дивилася стара, потворна бабця. Її очі були зовсім блідими, наче без зіниці. Таке відчуття, що фотографували її вже мертвою.

Я чула про таку традицію. Нібито померлих родичів фотографували на пам’ять, оскільки прижиттєвих знімків було зазвичай мало.

Я дістала з шафи тарілку, висипала туди вміст підкладки разом з фотографією і підпалила. Кухню наповнив зловісний запах. Мені довелося навіть заткнути ніс. Мій кіт мовчки спостерігав за спаленням. За спиною я чула кроки старих, кістлявих ніг. Сутність билася в агонії, відчайдушно бігаючи по всій квартирі.

Незабаром стало тихо. Я спалила вміст згортка вщент. Відчинила вікна, щоб вигнати неприємний запах, взяла кота, речі і поїхала до подруги.

Переночувавши у неї одну ніч, я повернулася до себе в квартиру. Я зауважила, що в кімнатах стало тепліше, а ехо майже пропало. Можливо, справа була не в порожнечі, а в тому, що хтось постійно ходив за мною.

Через місяць я знову випадково зустріла бабу Ганну. Подякувавши їй за подарунок, я почула від неї щось дивне:
– Я завжди помічала, що мешканці тієї квартири погано сплять, – зітхнула літня жінка. – Напевно, це все через відсутність котика. Тварини – наші головні цілителі.

Я замислилася над її словами. Хотіла запитати, що їй відомо про дивну квартиру, але коли відкрила рот, зрозуміла, що баба Ганна вже пішла.

Більше ніхто не турбував мій сон, а поруч завжди тихенько хропів мій пухнастий захисник.

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З життя38 хвилин ago

Shutting the Door on Our Own Daughter — “Why didn’t you let her in?” Veronica finally asked the question that haunted her most. “You used to always let her in…” Her mother gave a bitter smile. “Because I’m scared for you, Nicky. Do you think we don’t see the way you hide in the corner when your sister barges in at night? The way you hide your textbooks so she won’t ruin them? She looks at you and gets angry. Angry because you’re normal. Because you have a different future ahead of you, but she’s drowned hers in a bottle…” Veronica hunched over her open textbook, flinching as yet another row kicked off in the next room. Her father didn’t even take off his coat—he stood in the hallway, phone in hand, shouting into it. “Don’t try and fob me off!” he roared. “Where’s it all gone then? Two weeks after payday, Larissa! Two!” Tatiana peered out from the kitchen. She listened to her husband’s tirade, then asked, “Again?” Valery waved her off and put the phone on speaker—immediately met by sobbing. Veronica’s older sister had a natural talent for making even stones melt in pity. But their parents had developed a tough skin after so many years. “What do you mean ‘he threw you out’?” Valery started to pace the cramped corridor. “Damn right. Who’d put up with your never-ending drunkenness? Have you ever looked at yourself in the mirror? You’re thirty, but you look like a battered dog.” Veronica crept her door open an inch. “Dad, please…” The sobs suddenly cut out. “He put my things out on the landing. I’ve nowhere to go. It’s cold, it’s raining… I’ll come to you, okay? Just for a couple of days. Just to get some sleep…” Mother lunged for the phone, but Valery turned away. “No!” he barked. “You’re not coming in this house. We agreed last time—after you hocked the TV while we were at the cottage, the door to this family shut for you!” “Mum! 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The Carer for the Wife — What do you mean? — Lida thought she must have misheard. — Where am I supposed to go? Why? What for? — Oh, can we just skip the dramatics, please? — he grimaced. — What’s not clear here? There’s no one left for you to take care of. Where you go is none of my concern. — Ed, what’s wrong with you? Weren’t we planning to get married…? — That was your idea. I never said any such thing. At 32, Lida decided to turn her life around and leave her small hometown. What was left for her there? Endure her mother’s nagging? Her mother simply couldn’t stop scolding Lida about the divorce, constantly asking how she managed to “lose” her husband. Yet Vas’ka wasn’t worth a kind word—drunk and a womaniser! How did she end up marrying him all those eight years ago? Lida wasn’t at all upset about the divorce—in fact, she felt she could finally breathe again. But she argued constantly with her mum about it, and they also fought about money, which was always in short supply. So, she’d head off to the county town and land a great job there! Look at Svetka—her old school friend—she’d been married for five years to a widower. Who cares if he’s 16 years older and hardly a heartthrob, at least he has a flat and a decent income. And Lida reckoned she was just as good as Svetka! — Well, thank heavens! You’ve come to your senses! — Svetka encouraged her. — Pack your things, you can stay with us for a bit, and we’ll sort out the job situation. — Won’t your Vadim Petrovich mind? — Lida was unsure. — Don’t be silly! He does whatever I ask! Don’t worry, we’ll get by! Still, Lida didn’t want to stay long at her friend’s place. After just a couple of weeks and her first wages, she rented her own room. And just a couple of months later, she had a stroke of luck. — Why is a woman like you working in the market? — said one of her regulars, Edward Boris, with concern. Lida knew all her regulars by name by now. — It’s cold, it’s hard work—not ideal. — Gotta earn money somehow, — she shrugged, — unless you have another offer? Edward Boris wasn’t exactly a dreamboat in her eyes—twenty years older, a bit pudgy, starting to bald, and with a shrewd look in his eye. He was always particular about choosing his vegetables and paid to the penny. But he dressed well and drove a nice car—definitely not a down-and-out, not a drunk. He also had a wedding ring, so she never considered him as husband material. — You strike me as responsible, steady, and clean, — Edward Boris switched to a familiar tone, — have you ever cared for anyone who was ill? — I used to look after a neighbour, actually. She had a stroke, her children live far away, so they paid me to help. — That’s great! — he exclaimed, and then put on a somber face: — My wife, Tamara, has had a stroke too. The doctors say she has little chance of recovery. I’ve brought her home, but I haven’t got time to look after her. Will you help? I’ll pay you properly. Lida didn’t have to think long—much better to be in a warm flat changing bedpans than freezing on the market for ten hours a day serving picky customers! He even suggested she live there, so no more rent. — They’ve got three spare rooms! You could play football in there! — she delightedly told her friend. — No children either. Tamara’s mother was a real madam—even at 68, she acted half her age. She’d just remarried and was busy with her husband. No one else to care for the invalid. — Is she really that sick? — Oh yes, poor thing can’t move or speak. She won’t get better. — You almost sound happy about it, — Svetka eyed her. — Of course not, — Lida looked down, — but once Tamara’s gone, Edward Boris would be free… — Are you for real, Lida? Wishing someone dead for a flat?! — I’m not wishing anyone dead—I’m just not going to miss my chance! Easy for you to say, you’ve got it made! They had a huge fight and didn’t speak for half a year—until Lida confessed to Svetka her romance with Edward Boris. They couldn’t live without each other, but of course, he’d never leave his wife—not that type! So for now, she’d remain his lover. — So you’re shacking up with him while his wife is dying in the next room? — her friend was appalled. — Do you even see how vile that is? Or are you that blinded by his money—if he’s even got it? — Trust you to never say a kind word, — Lida retorted. They stopped talking again, but she barely felt guilty—well, perhaps just a bit. She cared for Tamara with real diligence, and since her affair with Edward Boris began, she took on all the housework too. After all, a man needs more than just a woman in his bed—he wants a good meal, crisp shirts, a clean flat. Lida thought her lover was very content, and she was enjoying her life too. She barely noticed Edward had stopped paying her for caring for his wife. Not that it mattered now—they were almost like husband and wife! He gave her money for shopping, and she managed the budget, not realising it was tight. And his job paid well enough—but never mind, once they got married it would all become clear. With time, the spark between them dulled, and Edward lingered less at home, but Lida put it down to the strain of having a sick wife. She pitied him, even though he barely spent a minute a day checking on Tamara. Even so, Lida wept when Tamara finally passed away. She’d given a year and a half of her life to that woman—you can’t get that time back. She organised the funeral too—Edward was “too grief-stricken.” He gave her the bare minimum for expenses, but she did everything properly. No one could accuse her of a thing. Even the neighbours, gossiping about her and Edward—nothing escapes them!—nodded approvingly at the funeral. His mother-in-law too seemed satisfied. So Lida never expected what Edward said next. — You understand there’s no need for your services anymore, so I’m giving you a week to move out, — he said on the tenth day after the funeral. — What do you mean? — Lida’s voice faltered. — Where should I go? Why? — Please, do we have to have this scene? — he sighed. — There’s no one left for you to care for, and where you go is none of my business. — Ed, what’s wrong with you? We were supposed to get married… — That’s your fantasy. I never said anything of the sort. Next morning, after a sleepless night, Lida tried to talk again, but he just repeated the same words and urged her to move quickly. — My fiancée wants to renovate before the wedding, — was all he said. — Fiancée? Who’s that? — None of your business. — Oh, none of my business?! Well, I’ll move out, but you’ll pay me for my work first. You were meant to pay forty grand a month. I only got paid twice. So you owe me £8,000. — You can do the sums, can’t you! — he snorted. — Don’t get carried away… — And you owe for cleaning too! I won’t nit-pick, just pay me ten grand and we’ll call it even. — Or what? You’ll go to court? There’s no contract. — I’ll tell Tamila—remember, your mother-in-law owns this flat. Edward’s face changed, but he recovered quickly. — Who’d believe you? — he huffed. — You know what? I don’t want to see you. Get out now. — You’ve got three days, darling. No ten grand, and there’ll be a scandal, — Lida replied, heading for a cheap hostel. She’d managed to save some of the housekeeping money. On the fourth day, having had no answer, Lida went back to the flat. Tamila, the mother-in-law, was there. Lida could see from Edward’s face she’d never get paid. So she told Tamila everything. — She’s making it all up! Don’t listen! — the widower protested. — Well, well, I’d heard rumours at the funeral, but I didn’t believe them — Tamila’s stare was fierce. — Now it all makes sense. And you, my dear son-in-law, don’t forget who owns this flat? Edward froze. — So, I want you out of here within the week. No—within three days. Tamila turned to leave, then paused at Lida. — And you, standing there like you expect a prize? Get out! Lida bolted from the flat, realising there’d be no money for her—not now. Back to the market again; there’d always be work there… **The Carer’s Devotion: Betrayal Behind Closed Doors in Suburban England**

A Carer for My Wife What do you mean? Linda could hardly believe what she was hearing. Where am I...