Blood memory

Warning! This chapter contains a detailed description of a murder and a sexually suggestive scene. Read with caution. The woman continued to strangle him. Oscar tried to fight back, but couldn't. "N–Nadya... let... let go..." Oscar barely managed to say. "But you, Oscar, did you let me go when I begged you to?" Oscar was suffocating. Nadya tightened her grip on his throat with her delicate fingers. She began to laugh. That laugh was very familiar to him. Oscar slowly closed his eyes... --- With a loud cry, Oscar jolted upright. He was drenched in sweat, red-faced, and terrified. The man was breathing heavily. "It... it was just a dream..." He wiped his face with his hands to calm down and compose himself. "It was a dream, but... it felt so real..." Oscar said, still breathing heavily. "What the hell was that? Nadya... that laugh... The laugh... that's the one I heard back then... So I didn't imagine it?" This thought made Oscar truly uneasy. Now he didn't even know what to think. He began to wonder: had Nadya really only been in the dream? He shook his head to pull himself together. The frightened man didn't know what to believe. "Maybe it's all just a coincidence?" Oscar tried to reassure himself. "The laugh I heard while awake was just my imagination, and Kiki's laugh just happened to sound like it?" Oscar pondered. He tried to come up with any logical explanation for it, as he categorically didn't want to believe it. He shook his head again and laughed. "What nonsense? That can't be! I probably had that stupid dream because I drank too much beer... Yes, that's definitely the problem." Somehow, Oscar convinced himself of this, though doubts still lingered. Suddenly, he realized he could still feel fingers on his neck. He immediately rubbed his neck with his hands to get rid of the sensation. "It's definitely because of the beer. What else could it be?..." Oscar repeated, though this time less convincingly... ---

Zurich. September 16, 1933.

Oscar stood behind a tree, watching his plan unfold. A young woman of Slavic origin stood a short distance away from the red-light district. "Well, where is this idiot?" the girl grumbled irritably. "Calm down, lady..." the man replied. "There... there he comes. Get ready." "You remember the plan, right?" Kiki, aka Nadya, asked quickly. "Yes, yes," answered the other man. "Let's get started." The two men slowly approached Kiki, who was stepping back. The accomplices regularly and discreetly glanced at their target. They needed the approaching man to believe in their plan and take it for reality. Oscar was watching it all, for the plan was his own. "You're not getting away now..." one of the men said, addressing Kiki. Kiki pretended to be scared, but such a fake performance from the man angered her, and she whispered: "Speak a little louder so he can hear!" The man repeated: "You're not getting away now!" The girl again put on a frightened expression, as if she were truly terrified. "Oh no, what do you want from me?" the girl shouted and looked towards the approaching man. A slightly drunk man noticed an unpleasant scene: two men harassing a lonely, defenseless girl who appeared to be very scared. The man headed their way. "I think he took the bait," one of them whispered, glancing at the approaching man. "Keep going," Nadya commanded quietly and again put on a frightened expression. The men approached her, and Kiki backed away. The man finally reached them. "What's going on here?" the approaching man inquired with a French accent. Kiki's accomplices stopped and slowly looked at him. Internally, they were pleased that their plan had worked and the man had been ensnared in their web. "Look at that," one of the accomplices muttered with a sly grin, "he fancies the night butterfly too." "She's already taken," said the second accomplice. "Go find someone else for entertainment." "Can't you see she's scared?" the Frenchman objected. "Step away from her." "Hey, buddy," one of them addressed the man in a clearly angry but feigned voice, "I think you were told to get lost." Kiki, maintaining the scared face of an innocent victim, watched the scene. "This is your last warning..." "And what are you going to do about it, mustache four-eyes?" The accomplices approached the man, and one of them slapped him. The Frenchman quickly recovered and responded with a punch to the jaw. According to the plan, the fight wasn't supposed to last long, so the accomplices quickly gave in and let the Frenchman win the altercation. "Let's get out of here!" the men shouted and ran off, stumbling, towards where Oscar was hiding. Of course, this was all just a staged scene to lure the Frenchman into a trap for Oscar's purposes. The man approached Kiki. "Are you alright?" the man asked carefully. "Oh... thanks to you... I'm fine..." the girl answered, frightened. "Come, I'll walk you..." Later that same time... Having made sure the Frenchman had taken the bait, Oscar left his hiding spot and headed to the hotel. Oscar approached a hotel in the red-light district where Nadya Shvets, aka Kiki Hag, worked. The man was dressed in ordinary clothes, not a police uniform. He had a sinister smile on his face, pleased that his plan had worked. A familiar woman greeted him at the reception desk. "Lulu, as agreed." "Yes, yes. She's in her room." "Poor girl," Oscar said ironically. "But nothing can be done..." "Just, Oscar, please, do it as quietly and discreetly as possible." "Don't worry about it." The plump, unkempt woman, spitting out sunflower seed shells, nodded. "Mm-hmm." Oscar smiled cunningly and headed to the second floor. He found the right room and stood by it, eavesdropping. Conversation and a woman's soft giggling could be heard inside. "Thank you, you're a real man," the smiling girl said, stroking the man's face and his unusual French-style mustache. "I couldn't just walk by," the man began with a French accent. "Those scoundrels could have hurt you..." "Ruben..." the girl said in a quiet, seductive voice, bringing her face close to his. Ruben Lefèvre – Kiki Hag's client – was, as mentioned, a bit drunk, so he wasn't thinking entirely clearly. The girl continued: "And I couldn't not thank you, my protector." Having said this, the girl pushed the man in the chest with her gentle hand, and he fell onto the bed. The client felt dizzy. Kiki climbed onto his legs and began unbuttoning his shirt. Ruben was clearly tired after the altercation. Add to that the fact that the alcohol was making him sleepy, so he didn't resist the woman's actions. The young Slavic woman took off his shirt and moved closer to his face. She kissed his eyes, his cheeks, and moved to his lips. Despite everything, forgetting he had a fiancée, Ruben gave in to the woman's passion. But he soon fell asleep. As soon as that happened, Kiki's expression changed instantly. She became more serious, jumped off the bed, and headed to the door. She opened it, and Oscar was waiting for her. The man entered the room. "I see you did your job perfectly." "Surprisingly, it wasn't difficult for me," the girl said, pleased with herself. "It went much easier than I expected." "You did well. You can tell your origins, sister Slav," Oscar said, smiling. The girl slowly, swaying her hips, approached the man and ran her finger along his stubble, then down his neck and chest, which wasn't bare. "Keep your 'well done' for yourself. I need payment." "Of course, darling. Let's just go to the bathroom." Oscar gently took Kiki's hand and led her into the bathroom. The girl didn't resist – on the contrary, she was interested in finally getting her reward. As soon as they entered the bathroom, the man pushed her against the wall. Kiki gasped. For her, such rough behavior from a man was acceptable, and she expected his attention. She liked Oscar as a man and wanted him, which was why she allowed herself to touch him occasionally. Her satisfied expression immediately changed when she suddenly felt a sharp pain on the surface of her stomach. The man looked at her, smiling, showing all thirty-two of his teeth. "My Kiki Hag... here's your payment... so take it..." The malicious smile on his face was replaced by fury. Oscar grabbed the girl by the hair and yanked her. "Did you think I would let you continue to exist, given this opportunity?" The woman looked into the man's eyes with fear. "P–please... let me go..." "People like you, cheap prostitutes, don't have the right to live." The man let go of Kiki's hair and grabbed her by the jaw. "I also didn't like it when one woman, despite my pleas, wouldn't stop doing this..." "B–but... what does that have to do with m–me?..." "It has to do with the fact that you're one of them, and I will kill you for it!" Oscar stabbed her wherever he could: in the stomach, in the chest, in the side, in the throat... streams of blood flowed from the girl's entire body. Then, in one swift motion, he slit her throat. Kiki stared at him with bloodshot eyes, gasping her last breaths, and fell to the floor with a crash. "Creature..." Oscar whispered, looking at the victim. But it wasn't over yet. The man knelt on one knee, took the girl's hands, and slit her wrists. After that, Kiki exhaled her final breath. A while later... Kiki was hanging in the bathroom. Her hands were tied to pipes on the ceiling. Various words and images were drawn on the wall. Oscar closed the bathroom with a shower curtain, on which was written in blood: "We are unique." "We are unique, because we know how to punish the guilty in a special way," the man said with a satisfied voice and left the bathroom. Ruben was still asleep. Oscar glanced at him and immediately left the hotel. ---

Present day.

Oscar shook his head. The man decided to distract himself a bit to forget that terrifying dream. He decided to do his favorite thing – creating Dada art. Oscar headed towards the storage closet, where the materials he needed should be. As he descended the stairs and approached the closet door, his gaze fell on the paper still peeking out from under the door. Oscar ignored it, thinking it was just trash. He took out the key and opened the door. He swung it open, and it opened with a terrible, irritating creak. Inside was nothing but dust, causing the man to squint to keep it out of his eyes. "I wonder when Mom last cleaned in here?" The question itself made him laugh. But the laugh was strained, trembling in places. "Yeah, Oscar, you sure ask some questions..." He still couldn't shake that dream. No matter how hard he tried to cheer himself up and stop thinking about it, he kept thinking about it – the feeling of hands on his neck wouldn't let him forget. "I wonder if there's anything in here?" Oscar began to search the storage closet, hoping to find some old newspapers to make a collage from. "Looks like I found something." The man found a couple of old newspapers from the Swiss edition of Eure Tages, which surprised him. "What are Anna's newspapers doing here?" Oscar started examining the newspapers. They were old papers reporting on the investigation at the Hotel Reger, located a few kilometers from Zurich. "That witch Anna's newspapers are even in my own house. I wonder how they got here?" Suddenly, the front door swung open sharply, making Oscar instantly turn around and even cry out. The dream about Nadya still haunted him, and he felt that this victim would manifest herself not only in his dreams but also in reality. "If I didn't imagine it back then, then she's already shown herself..." He said this with great difficulty, his voice trembling, as he realized he hadn't imagined the laugh at all. The wind blew, and the small piece of paper lying by the door lifted and flew straight into Oscar's face. He didn't remove it from his face but crumpled it up, though he didn't throw it away. "The weather today is certainly... not the best..." Oscar closed the door, and the loud sound of the blizzard remained behind it. He remembered that scrap of paper and unfolded it. "Flaming..." Flaming? What nonsense?" Oscar didn't pay much attention to it and tossed the paper aside. He headed towards his room. --- Oscar already knew what he would create. He had brought a photograph of his mother, which he had found in her room. He cut it out and glued it onto the canvas. "I've wanted to make a collage with you for a long time, Mother," Oscar said cunningly. "Let's see what comes of it..." Oscar began cutting out words from the newspaper, thus distracting himself from the canvas. After he finished and turned his gaze back to the canvas, he nearly jumped up in surprise. "What the hell?!" The paper he had just recently discarded by the front door was now glued onto his mother's photograph – specifically, over her eyes. Oscar couldn't understand how this was possible. Frightened, he stood up, looked around, then looked back at the canvas, and the paper was gone... "Flaming..." he whispered, his voice trembling. "What is burning? What does it mean?" Oscar's legs and arms trembled with fear. For a moment, he couldn't move, but after standing still a little longer, he approached the canvas, sat down on a chair, and began to look at his work. "Was I seeing things again? Or is it stress from that damned dream? Or am I going crazy?" Now Oscar tried to find an explanation for yet another phenomenon. And again, Oscar wanted to convince himself he had imagined it. "But I saw it! I definitely saw the paper on the canvas. I'm not imagining things." What could "Flaming" mean? Oscar thought, tried to remember, and... ---

Zurich. Several years ago. Old Town. Knef Gallery.

"Dear guests, friends, spectators..." the gallery owner began. "At this exhibition, as you may have guessed, we will present the stunning works of our remarkable artist, Mr. Oscar Havel." "Ooh! Wow!" the audience shouted, applauding. "This is exactly what I wanted – an exhibition of my works in this gallery," said a pleased Oscar. Oscar looked at his paintings with great pride and was speechless when he saw that they were all the same... They depicted a woman whose face was smeared with blood. "What the..." Oscar closed his eyes and shook his head. When he opened his eyes, he saw that instead of every guest, instead of the gallery owner, there was that same woman from the paintings... ---

Present day.

"Damn... what was that just now?" The events during the gallery exhibition had unfolded completely differently – everything had gone successfully, Oscar had been satisfied, no such inexplicable things had happened. This phenomenon alarmed Oscar, and he didn't understand why he had imagined it. The man decided to continue working on the painting, and as soon as he looked at it, he kicked it in fear and it fell... In the painting, instead of his mother, was that same woman he had seen in the memory... The word "Flaming" was now glued over her eyes.