Page 4 of Bloodstained
The cozy guesthouse felt far removed from everything, like a world apart from the life I’d only ever known.
“I still don’t get why you had to go so far,” Laszlo’s voice came through the line, smooth but with a hint of annoyance.
Even the sound of my boyfriend’s voice was starting to make me feel uncomfortable.
“There are plenty of art opportunities here at home in America, Clara.”
I didn’t respond right away, still watching that little bird until it finally flew away and disappeared into the tree line. I kept my tone light when I said, “This is a once-in-a-lifetime internship, Laszlo, and there was no way I was going to pass it up. I explained that.” He exhaled, his irritation clear because I wasn’tagreeing with him.“Primejdieisn’t just some gallery.” I knew it was to him—to a person who didn't give two shits about the history behind it.
“Yeah, you’ve said that.” His voice was slightly tight. “But you don’t need to prove anything to anyone.” His tone softened just enough to sound affectionate. “You’re already talented. The best. You didn’t have to go halfway across Europe to figure that out.”
I sighed and closed my eyes. I wasn't going to explain—again. I opened my eyes and glanced down at my sketchpad resting on my lap. “It’s not just about being talented or not. It's not just about getting the experience and being able to put it on my resume down the line. It’s...I don’t know, Laszlo. Being here just feels important. I need to do this.”
There was a long pause on his end, and I could almost hear the gears turning in his head, as if he was trying to control his annoyance and snap back about this. I knew he was upset that I was gone. I sympathized.Did I, though?Because the truth was, leaving him hadn’t been hard at all.
“I just miss you, that’s all,” he said finally, his voice quieter now, more measured.
I didn’t miss the slight edge to his tone, the way his words seemed to wrap around me like an invisible tether. Laszlo had always been like this—soft-spoken, calm, but with a presence that sometimes felt heavier than I could explain.
Controlling in a passive-aggressive manner.
“I miss you, too,” I said, but it wasn’t the truth, and my voice fell flat. The words sounded hollow spilling from my lips. I’d been here for days already and hadn’t thought about Laszlo. I should have felt guilty for that.But I didn’t.
I cared about Laszlo, of course I did. We’d been together for over a year, and he was good to me in all the ways that counted. He had always been supportive of my art—which had been a big green flag for me. But when the time came for me to follow mydreams and explore my art and utilize my degree, his support fell short.
He became whiny, antagonistic, and teetering on the edge of controlling in the way he spoke to me.
But sometimes, in the quiet moments, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing in my life. Something big. Like there was a part of me Laszlo could never reach, no matter how hard I tried to connect with him.
“Good,” he said, his voice brightening slightly as he clearly didn't hear the change in my voice, “because I’ve been thinking...maybe I can come out to see you? We could spend a few days together.”
The suggestion caught me off guard, and right away, I felt my stomach twist into a knot. It was a sudden reaction I couldn’t quite explain. “You want to come here?”
“Yeah. Why wouldn't I want to see my girlfriend?” he asked, and I could hear the smile in his voice now, as if he thought his words and offer to come see me were cute. “I can book a flight, and then a train and be there by the weekend. It’ll be good for us, don’t you think? Spend some time together. Remind you why you don’t need to stay away for so long.”
My head started aching, and I rubbed my temples. I hesitated in responding, turning his words over in my mind. On the surface, it sounded sweet—thoughtful, even. But there was something about the way he said it, like he couldn’t imagine me being okay without him here to ground me.
There was that control again, the kind he showed once I told him I was leaving.
“If that’s what you’d like to do, that’s fine, but I start work next Monday, so I won’t really have much time to hang out,” I intoned.
“We’ll make it work,” he said as if it were already decided. “I want to see where you’re staying and what the village is like.And, of course, once you see me, you’ll know how much you miss me.”
The more I thought about him coming here, the more unease crept up my spine. I pushed it aside. Maybe he’d calm down and feel more at ease once he saw how happy I was.
“This’ll be great. You’ll see,” he said, his tone softening again. “But mostly, I just want to see you. It’s been too long.”
It hadn’t even been two weeks since I left, but I kept that to myself. I let him ramble on about what he was doing, how his work was, and more about him, him, him. Never once did he ask about me. I felt the weight of him coming here settle over me like a blanket I couldn’t escape.
After ten minutes of listening to him basically having a one-sided conversation, I said, “I should go. I still have to finish this sketch before it gets too dark, and I have to start dinner.”
“Of course,” he said easily. “I’ll let you know my travel details tomorrow.”
“Sounds great,” I said in an apathetic tone.
As the line went dead, I let out a breath and rested my head back on the chair, staring at the ceiling. My gaze drifted back to the window, the sky now painted with deep purples and blues as the sun sank lower below the horizon.
I should’ve been excited to see Laszlo, to have a piece of “home” come to this strange and new place. But all I felt was a lingering sense of unease, like his presence would shift something that was growing here. With me. In me.
