Case 1260

Chapter 1

The coppery taste in his blood didn't bother me as it did before. It grew into something I could handle through experience. But the foul stench that polluted the air was certainly new. It ruined the jelly-like taste of blood clots and made my craving for blood drop rapidly. Simply put, it was nauseating. I'd bet 10 million that it was the smell of the morgue. This body was of a coroner. But of course, the scent I endured. Because the body's blood which I was drinking from, wasn't random or 'just a snack'. If that were the case, I would have long ago left. My taste palate was one of quality. This blood, however, was enemy blood, and all mine to drink from.

It however did make me thirsty. Whatever stupid scientists say about blood being a liquid, I can tell you for free that drinking blood leaves your tongue dry.

"Vanya, Andrei. Get the car ready to go to Russkoye Kafe. I'm parched".

After a quick nod, the stocky men strode further and further from sight, leaving me heaped up on a dead body. Using my knees to support me, I stand to observe the body on the floor. With me removed from the man, flies started to buzz around him. How helpless, I thought. It would be extremely rude of me to let the poor flies touch the body of someone so filthy. I for one did not like to disrespect Mother Nature, let alone on the lands of my home. And anyway, my gun was particularly sluggish today. There's no harm in giving back to the environment, right? It was time for today's first bullet.

Bang

What can I say? I'm a bad soul. 

The Mercedes-Benz rolled smoothly onto the empty Crimean Bridge. Coating the sky were colours of crimson swirled with saturated gold. Inside the vehicle was dull and solemn. There was no chatter or noise. Three tall figures were seated inside the car, two in the front and one in the back. The water rolled smoothly over the shore, glistening.

As someone whose daily routine is pure evil, I wonder why I love the water so much. They say that you find a good soul close to the water, which is the opposite in my case. But then again, other than me, I don't think I've ever seen anybody a metre's distance from the beach. It calms me a lot, being close to the water. There's just a feeling I get, as though I'm by someone close to me. Crazy, right? Want to know something else crazy? I always get this thought when I'm close to the water.

How vain can my life get? The 315 years I lived were not miserable nor a bore. It was thrilling and fast. But like every person, I wanted to achieve. I wanted to reach a point of success. As for now, I was stuck at a point of dismay. How long would I just kill those who found out about her? Why do I have to work so hard just to conceal something so substantial? Humanity should understand that their time is long gone. If I did not deserve to live, why must these useless brats stand one more second filming their atrocious 'TikToks'? This plan is but just the beginning.

But first coffee.

"One espresso roast please, with a dark chocolate drizzle", I ordered.

"Great, and the name?" the cashier asked. I must have been staring directly into his crumpled face because the boy shifted uncomfortably. My name.

"Kavya Evgeniya", I lied. The crumpled-face boy gave a slight nod.

"Card or cash", he said. A giggle threatened to make itself known before I had stifled it.

This time I focused on his eyes. From its original green colour, it turned into a swirl of deep red on a black background. If you were smart enough, you'd realise I was hypnotising him. I wouldn't spend 65 rubles just for a coffee. How do you think I can afford my fur jacket? The background blurred into a faded grey.

"I think you're supposed to treat me for coming to this trash. Think of it as a celebrity visit. Definitely upping the number of customers that visit.", I whispered.

The boy nodded and fumbled in his pocket. He fished out a beige note and shoved it into the register. I flashed him a smile (taking him out of his trance) and sat on my favourite table in the far-right corner. Beside the table was a large bay window, from which you could see everyone bundled up in coats. Aesthetic as it was, the windows were the sole reason I make time to come to this specific cafe. To see the snow falling on everyone who was outside. It felt awfully poetic. They were all freezing, while I sat back somewhere warm and sophisticated. Cruelty wasn't failing to kill a boy and have him kill you 17 years later. That was far too bookish. My idea of cruelty consisted of every little detail. Every single moment

I didn't look back at the boy whom I hypnotised. I already knew what state he was in. Distraught, maybe confused, and definitely out of place.

Just like me.

Just like Russia.