– Oxford.

– No possible way.

– I wonder why?

– You're not ready for such a test.

– A test? Mum, it's time I had a real life! I want to learn, I want to improve, I want to see the world, after all! You can't keep me in these four walls forever!

– By the way, I didn't go to university until I was two hundred and sixty-five.

– Those were the dark ages of patriarchy. Don't compare those times with today!

– Misha, we've talked about this many times, and I still stand by my opinion: you're not going to Oxford.

– All right, well, where do you suggest I go?

– If you're so keen to study, well… Go to Prague. Charles University is as good as Oxford.

– Prague? Close to Mariszka?

– Yes. I'll feel safe with her looking after you.

I rolled my eyes, full of awkward mockery at my mum's words, and also of disappointment and resentment at her distrust of me and my personal qualities.

«I'll feel comfortable with her looking after you» those words were so ridiculous and ridiculous! And so hurtful.

– Mum! – I just couldn't find the words to shake my mother's insistence.

She was sitting in front of me: beautiful, young, with her thin lips firmly pressed together.

– Honestly, sweetheart, I don't know where you got this obsession with going to Oxford and nowhere else» Mum said, squinting at me.

I rolled my eyes again: ever since I'd willingly taken on the role of spoilt girl, the act had stuck with me, and I could hardly contain myself when I was alone and didn't have to play along.

So, how do I explain my choice to my mum?

Ever since Markus's brother, my brother-in-law, had advised me to «Oxford, for a start» I couldn't shake the urge to study there.

Why did Cedric Morgan's words have such an effect on me? I did not know the answer to that question, but it seemed to me that his words had a magical effect on my outlook, for he was the strange, unsociable, loveless man who had said them. It was suffering – he said it himself, and from then on I saw love only in a black light and full of suffering. His speeches frightened me: I didn't want to suffer as much as he did. To suffer at all. I considered myself too sensitive to stand firm against the suffering that is part and parcel of love. But I did not want … I did not want it with all my soul!

This Cedric struck me to the core: serious, sullen, silent. And at the same time, his personality fascinated me because he lives the life he wants to live – him, not his loved ones or his parents. And his love for some girl… Such a contrast stunned me: his serious austere nature turned out to be dependent on love.

I'd only been back in Prague a week, but I'd already buzzed my mum's ears about Oxford. She didn't stay on the hunt for fun after Mariszka's wedding either and came back to Warsaw with me.

«Oxford. Only Oxford! Cedric can't be wrong!» – I thought stubbornly.

– Do you think I can't have my own opinion? – I asked unhappily, wanting to deceive my mum.

– Of course you can, but not at your age» she said calmly.

– Well, that's too much! – I was overcome with a strong irritation.

«No, it's ridiculous! Do I have to listen to my parents for the rest of my life?» – I thought irritably.

– Don't be so hot. Think about Prague, maybe you'll like it there.

– No, I wouldn't! I want to go to Oxford! That's it! – I rose abruptly from my chair and walked out of the dining room, where we were eating glasses of blood. I was overcome with rage.

My opinion doesn't count! How could it not! I am being disadvantaged even in such elementary things!

Going into my room and to spite my mother who couldn't stand the music I was listening to, I turned on my favourite indie rock, cranking up the volume on my music centre and speakers for I knew that no matter how hard my mum tried, she couldn't help but hear it, and that thought cooled my resentment a little. Sure, this little revenge was just a childish act, but I didn't care about that.

Opening my laptop, I looked at the Oxford University website for the hundredth time, with a bitter resentment towards the whole world: it had been my dream to go there, to that distant, but so desirable institution. My life's dream.

I went to the website of the Faculty of Philosophy for the hundredth time and sighed bitterly, holding back my tears.

– Misha, please turn off the music! – Suddenly I heard my mum's voice outside my room.

– You think I'm a child? That's how I behave, to please you! – I shouted at her with offence.

– Misha!

– No!

Mum sighed heavily, but walked away from my room.

I stared at the laptop monitor again.

«What kind of life is this? I'm young, I'm beautiful, I have a personal bank account in which my parents deposited huge amounts of euros before I was born, but I can't touch anything I own! I am eighteen years old, I will be nineteen in five months and I still live with my parents, I have no friends except my laptop and music centre, I have hardly ever been in society, among humans and vampires. Even at one of the prestigious English schools I studied online and I've never once been there physically! I can only sit in our huge Art Nouveau house, walk in the garden artificially created especially for me, ride my bike… And that's it. No, I can go to Prague, but I can live in my sister's castle so she can keep an eye on me. How humiliating! We live in the twenty-first century, and my parents still can't understand the rules of modern life, where girls my age go to colleges and universities, arrange their personal lives and find friends. My parents do not realise that I am not like themselves: more than five centuries stand between us, and they will never understand me, a daughter of the modern world. What they consider a right earned, an age-old right, I consider a natural right. Of course, it is easy for them to say that I don't understand them and they don't understand me because I am spoilt, and despite this delusion, my family cherishes me, almost deifies me. I am kept like a nightingale in a golden cage: I am supplied with blood, gadgets, universal love, and I have everything except one thing: freedom of choice. Fortunately, at least they let me buy my own clothes. Although, no – even clothes I buy online because I'm not allowed to go to the shops. And how did my precious family let me go to the Czech Republic and travelling there with Cedric? It's amazing! Their heads must have been full of Mariszka's wedding! – I thought with a bitter smile. – But maybe Cedric is right? He said that if I want to earn her trust, I need to stop acting like a child… Yes, he's right! After all, that makes sense! The problem is that it will be hard for me to get rid of my role, hard to be myself, but I have to do it!»

I turned off the music and decided to talk to my mum once more, but this time in a mature way: she and I are real. The real Misha, not the hysterical Misha.

Mum was sitting in her office going through some papers, but as soon as I entered the office, she took her eyes off the papers and looked at me with a smile.

– I want to talk» I said in a calm tone as I walked to her desk and sat down on the chair next to it.

Mum smiled affectionately once more and put the papers aside.

– 'Of course, sweetheart. About what?

I felt irritated again: the word «sweetheart» instead of my name put me in the position of a child. But I held back my anger and drew in more air.

– Listen to me, please» I began. – I realise that I am a late child and that I am very young. But I don't think that's an argument for you to disregard my opinion.

– Is this about that again? I thought we'd already settled this» Mum said with a tired smile.