[WARNING -- EXPLICIT VIOLENCE]
[WARNING -- EXPLICIT VIOLENCE]
Footsteps echo in the dark — slow, like someone savoring the approach.
Step. Step. Step.
In a cone of flickering light, three women sit bound. They had faces, but none he could name, as if he'd forgotten mid-sentence. An infant rests in one lap. Two other babies lie beside them, all tied with ropes so tight their skin had bled into the fibers. He could barely see the green anymore.
From the darkness, a figure emerges, a man in a full black suit under a dark trench coat. With black gloves and a black skull mask that connects to his skin, he reaches into the pocket of his coat and pulls out a large knife.
He knelt beside one of the women and slid the blade into her thigh, slowly, as if carving through clay. She screamed through the rope stuffed in her mouth. The figure kept slicing her. Piece by piece. The harder she fought to cry out, the tighter the ropes cinched, drawing deeper into her skin. Veins bulged. Her face turned a violent shade of red, then purple. Then the pressure crushed her skull with a sound like a boot on frozen fruit. The woman's screams ended with her head, obviously.
The man didn't stop. Even after the body slackened, he kept carving until no piece was bigger than the knife itself. When he was done, he tossed the blade into the pile of shredded flesh and reached into his coat for another blade, smaller, curved like a gazelle's horn.
The figure walked towards the other woman and held her by the rope around her neck. As he pulled her out of the light...
Nothing.
Darkness.
Kazimir woke up from his dream, unable to move, staring at the ceiling of his room while thinking to himself.
third time, and still... I can't figure what it means. The faces are vague, still. They get clearer every time, I gotta give this to my brain, yet I still cannot see who these women are. I feel like I know them, all of them, like they are a part of me. But I don't.
Anyway, it seems I survived another day. How long has it been? 192? Seems like it. Why do I count, anyway? I should be happy I'm getting closer every day. Every day passes only reminds me of her. It should have been me.
Why wasn't I?
I was lucky, I guess.
The luck I never asked for. When will it end?
These Dreams like me, I think. They don't seem to get bored of me, even though I don't do much in them. I'm only a silent passenger. I guess that's what they love me for. I'm helpless. I've always been.
They like to make my pain greater by showing me the way it happened. As if it's not enough to see the torn pieces of my wife and unborn child every night. But my mind must figure out how it happened? The curse that made me a great architect now haunts my existence. F**k you, me.
What does that even mean? Is my instinct telling me that it's time to end my suffering? I can't. I can't do it myself. I'm helpless. But I won't stop it either. Nothing in this world can make me turn down an opportunity.
While lost in his thoughts, the room door swung open, and a shirt landed on his face. His back ached as he sat up, sleeping on hard boxes for more than six months can do more than that. By the time he was upright, the shirt had slipped into his lap. He looked toward the doorway. Alfred stood there, watching him.
Kazimir's only remaining friend, Alfred, was also the brother of his dead wife. A few years older, built like a soldier with a jawline to match...
...You know what? Here's the stats:
***
[CHARACTER FILE – ALFRED HERR]
Full Name: Alfred Herr
Age: Late 30s, maybe. I don't know. He's still standing.
Height: 6'
Hair Color: Orange enough to be a fire hazard
Known For:
– Danger
– Good hugs
– Having a classified file in three separate military branches
Martial Arts: All of them
Combat Proficiency: Classified
Personality: Calm. Calculated. Doesn't share much.
Notable Traits:
– Ginger
– Cares too much
– Has more bodies than Bonnie Blue (I might delete this if the reference gets old)
Known Weaknesses:
– Overcooked rice
– Emotional vulnerability
– Kazimir's depression
Relation to Kazimir: Brother-in-law. More brother than friend.
Survival Rating: 9.5/10
Current Mood: Mildly annoyed, concerned, still hasn't had breakfast.
Recommended Strategy: Let him do his work. Stay out of the way.
***
"Wake up, Princess," Alfred said to him, "you won't survive if you don't eat."
Kazimir looked at him with empty, exhausted eyes. He cracked his back and threw the shirt back at Alfred.
Alfred caught it and put it back on the hanger. "If you're not going to eat, I am. I'm going to shower while you wipe the sleep off your face, meet me at the diner. I'll get your meal."
After Alfred left the room, kazimir lowered his feet to the floor and stared at them, for a moment. Something about them gaining a sense of stability helped him a little.
Looking up at the makeshift nightstand next to the bed, he picked up a framed picture: him, his wife, and her brother, Alfred standing on a rocket launch pad. In it, Alfred wore a military uniform with blank shoulders where the rank should've been.
They were all smiling, but Ilona's was the widest, the kind that lit up her whole face. Her hair was blowing sideways from the downdraft of the helicopter that had just dropped them off at the shelter, back when everything still felt like it might turn out okay.
His mind drifted...
Before the outbreak, Kazimir lived with his wife Ilona, in their apartment in Berlin. They had been married for two years, but he had known her since childhood.
Days after the outbreak, Ilona's family was invited to a crisis shelter, Kazimir went with them. He had to make a choice whether to go with his wife leave his mother and sister, or stay with them and die. He made the logical choice.
After some time in the shelter It happened: DAY ZERO. That incident took the lives of most people in the shelter, including Kazimir's wife and unborn child. He witnessed the shredded remains of his wife's body scattered on the wall of their house while he fell helpless on his knees before that magnificent scene, before facing the creature that took his wife's life.
If not for his wife's brother, Alfred, Kazimir would've died that day. Alfred managed to save him from the grasp of that creatures along with ten other soldiers.
When Kazimir returned to the shelter, he wasn't the same. The slightest encounter with that unknown entity left his mind torn into parts. It took more than four months in the shelter to get him able to speak, think, and function like the human being he once was. But even now, his mind is not the same as it was. There are still holes in it that can't be filled.
Back in the real world.
After a few seconds staring at the picture, his eyes turned pitch black, like someone had drained the life from them. Whatever slight emotion was on his face a moment ago vanished. He didn't cry. He cries no more. The scene played out again in his mind, as it always did.
It wasn't grief anymore. Or sadness. It was just a memory now.
A moment trapped in time, vivid, cold, and unreachable. The pain had dulled into something quieter, heavier. Like a weight he'd grown used to carrying.
This was just how mornings began.