My first times

The first time I met my murderer

2018. April 6.

Right now.
Everything started to go down.
Panic fills my mind, I can feel the hot tears running down my cheeks. I can feel my lungs burning up. I start to hold my breath before a scream slips through.

I met him.
His rusty voice.
His scent. That smell of cigarettes.
The way he pronounces: Helena.
I-I can't....

I was just walking down the same road as ever when I heard a laugh, and someone shouted: Oi! You! (he waited but seemed he couldn't catch the attention of his target) Hey!

And then my name.
My former name.
I froze for a minute and I could sense a wild grin appearing on his face slowly as I realized who was talking to me. I  fought the urge to turn around, instead I didn't stop. I was surrended with people, nobody could hurt me. I was in a crowd. I thought.

His steps became faster and faster. When he touched me a growl came from my stomach as the expression of my will to get away. And then he grabbed my arm and pulled me to the wall with all his strength. My hands were twisted, so the pain bid me there.
- Helena. What a surprise! Look at you... - his fingers ran through my face, I could feel his breath on my skin - now, you might think God saved you, don't you? You dumb fuck. You're already the Devil's. You are mine. - he laughed into my ears - Pray, you little shit, because they own me your life and I'll take it as many times as I fucking have to. Understand? Pray, you motherfucker whore!

He abrurhly let me go, and I collapsed. Shut my eyes, heared his bickering steps, but that wasn't enough.

I remembered.
That unholy night.
The darkness were thick like a hole holding its ears to the ground in favour of capturing me until I would be less than pure nothing. On the sky thousands and thousands of stars shining. Cigarettes' dense somke and blood's smell was mixed in my nose. I felt I couldn't breath properly because it was too undiluted. I looked at myself. I was sitting in cold blood at the back of a car. The pale lights showed half of his face, he looked terrifyingly young. His eyes full of madness were watching me. The satisfaction and the evil hunger for torture flashed in them as he looked at my childlike face.

He suddenly stopped the car, and got out. I immediately started to panic. Will he hurt me? Will he hurt me? - those were my thoughts running through my mind as I was kicking and fidgeting on the seat in order to escape. He grabbed me and I wanted to scream but I couldn't use my voice. Something was off with me. I didn't realize I was already dead. He pulled me out of the car, pushed me to the ground and spit on me. Then said:
- Pray to your fucking God to save you, you little  shit!

I waited until he sat back in the car, drove away and then I looked around. I was laying before a church. I wanted to cry but I couldn't. I wanted to scream. I wished I wasn't alive. I didn't know that the case was just what I've wished for.

So I got up, the first thing I wanted to do was ask for help and find my parents. Of course the church was closed, but I was desperate. I needed help otherwise I thought I would have lost my mind or what left of my sanity. I climbed up on the fence. Even went inside the house next to it, and when I opened the door I saw a man looking worried.

I wanted to ask him where I was? What happened to my parents? I wasn't able to do any of that. I wanted to cry so much, but my brain wasn't in control anymore. I switched.
My pupils grew larger, I held my breath.
Eager.
Fear.
Despair.
Finally the thick darkness of the sky captured my consciousness.
I was nothing.
And that's when I attacked Priest Joseph.