Cold cotton wool falls on parts of the earth that experience freezing temperatures. It covers what it can touch with a white color. In winter in Moscow, the southern part of Russia, the average daily temperature is less than 4° Celsius. When night falls and the moon rises. People would rather curl up in a thick cocoon-like blanket than go outside to see the white flakes of snow. Spending long nights, dreaming sweet dreams.
Noel Baluev was different. He hated winter as much as he hated the way nature's billions of cotton wool fell gracefully due to gravity, as much as he hated life. His chained life in the darkness of a nightmare. It comes and never goes for a second-always comes again and again, like a breath that will only disappear when it reaches the end of the throat.
They say that dreams are the flowers of sleep. No matter how bad your dreams are, they will disappear as soon as you wake up. But that was not the case for this seventeen-year-old boy. When he woke up, the dream came true.
Noel was staring up at someone above. His gaze was blank, like a puppet. Motionless and voiceless even though his soul was screaming, crying out for mercy.
With only half a consciousness left, Noel was very familiar with this kind of atmosphere. Violence. The pain and smell of blood were familiar to him. Noel could feel the coldness of the metal shackling his hands. Even so, not as cold as the eyes of the man above him.
The man was pounding his cock roughly. There was no gentleness at all. With his body becoming increasingly fragile, what could Noel do but surrender to the cruel treatment. Noel wanted to scream for this torture to stop. However, his screams were blocked in his throat by the cruel tyranny as he choked on his agony. After all, Noel had often been needed like this, day after day the torture against him was getting beyond the limit. Noel's body could no longer tolerate the actions taken by that man. The pain Noel was now feeling was unbearable, the man's grip on his neck getting stronger, the movements getting rougher every second, sinking his penis deeper and deeper into Noel's body. Producing waves of intense pain, adding to the deepening cuts. The tears that had long flowed like a river down Noel's sweet face had now stopped.
"Your body is as delicious as always." The man grinned as he stared into Noel's eyes.
Noel shook his head weakly, trying to speak, but couldn't because of the cruel hand that was pressing so hard on his throat. Let alone talking, she had trouble even taking a breath. Almost every inch of her skin bore fresh incision scars. Some of the bruises were as gruesome as they were ornate, not to forget the blue bite marks around his shoulders and nape.
The pain that grew and grew made Noel's body numb. Blood continued to flow where the man was thrusting his penis, soiling the white sheets that bore witness to the current sexual torture.
Poor Noel, once the man on top of him climaxed, signaled that the game was over. Noel droops limply with the many wounds he has suffered. However, they are incomparable to the wounds that are deeply etched in his heart. Wounds that may never be healed.
Satisfied, the man closes the zipper of his pants, briefly kissing the forehead of his lover or rather his sex doll. Then he lifts Noel's fragile body to the bathroom for cleaning.
In the bathtub the man painstakingly cleaned Noel's body, with a towel and warm water. He rubbed gently as if afraid to add to the wounds on the body. His treatment was very different from a few minutes ago. Splashes of water from the shower ran down Noel's body, mixed with blood from the wounds on his body, falling into the bathtub. When it was enough, the man took Noel's cold body in his arms.
"I love you," he said softly, as a drop of clear liquid escaped his eyes.
*
Noel Baluev felt the darkness enveloping him, sucking in like a whirlpool as consciousness pushed its way out of the death-like sleep it had long since stopped beating.
Noel opened his eyes, waking up to a throbbing pain in his head. He winced as he massaged his temples. His thoughts seemed to turn to dust, his vision blurring with the throbbing pain in his temples. Struggling to sit upright, Noel blinked his eyes, adjusting his vision to the bright lights of the room.
The first thing he saw was a room filled with putin-colored tiles. Casting his eyes around the room, his attention caught the familiar objects of a shower and a sink. Noel was sure that he was now in a bathroom. He was lying there, in a bathtub.
Submerged in water, his whole body wet, his fingers wrinkled. Noel didn't know how long he had been soaking, still fully clothed; a short-sleeved white T-shirt and long black pants that fit his legs. Exploring the silence in silence. Noel's consciousness soon returned, and found himself waking up in a very unfamiliar bathroom. Because he didn't know who he belonged to, where he lived and why the shirt he was wearing was covered in bloodstains. No, not only was his shirt covered in bloodstains, but the water in the bathtub where his body was submerged was also mixed with blood. Shock and fear hit his chest instantly.
Suddenly trembling, Noel felt several parts of his body. Was there any injury? He ended up not finding any bruises or scratches that still left stinging, wounds from the man's actions.
Moving to another part, Noel slowly unzipped the black trousers he was wearing. Opening his legs slightly, in case there were any injuries that might be severe down there, considering how that guy always played with the lower body viciously. Swallowing harshly, Noel took a closer look and found that there were no injuries there. Noel was dumbfounded at this situation.
Diving back into the seconds struggling with the various questions that began to arise, Noel realized that something was not right. An image before he closed his eyes, flashed like a blizzard in the most extreme winter.
A black coffin, large and long with no name. A young figure, bones wrapped in flesh, flesh wrapped in white skin, both hands resting on the stomach. His face was expressionlessly pale beneath the blond strands of hair. It had the definition that every human face had, yet it was too beautiful and too pale. She was a preserved body, lifeless, lying there wearing a white tuxedo shawl collar.
The owner of the body was himself, his life had been taken away.
And he was dead.
Noel was stunned, lost in horror. His mind wandered again along with the wind that blew in from outside the air vent. When he turned to the right side of the bathtub, he was shocked again. A colt1911 pistol along with a worn black wool coat lay unceremoniously on the bathroom floor.
The coat was stained with dried blood, and there was a white rabbit face mask lying nearby.
A big question mark had crammed into Noel's head. In his ribs, his heart rumbled. Noel quickly got up from the bathtub even though some of his joints ached with movement.
Limping with his limbs, approaching the sink to wash his face, his heart seemed to stop beating at that moment when Noel saw his reflection in the mirror. An unfamiliar image from the mirror was reflected on his retina. The body now was not the body before. Where had his old body gone? What was happening to him now? If this was a dream, then everything was impossible, given that he was already dead.
Noel was still feeling dizzy so he didn't really understand the situation at hand. "I-this isn't my body, wait, did I steal it? No way, this must be a dream. I didn't steal it, something must be wrong."
Noel looked at the face in more detail in the mirror. Pinching both sides of his cheeks, this face was slightly similar to his face in the past, but more handsome. This man had a darker shade of blue eyes compared to his own. The slightly wavy blonde hair was also darker and slightly longer with bangs that covered the forehead. Noel continued to observe the body, this was the body of a rather slender well-built adult man with a height of about one hundred and eighty centimeters.
"This man's body is taller than mine, his body is nicer than mine, his fingers are also longer than mine."
Noel paced the room. He didn't know how to deal with this incident. Overworking his brain made his knees weak and he slumped down. Rubbing his face roughly, and leaning against the wall, Noel let his mind go blank for a few minutes.
Could this be soul transmigration? It was hard to believe.
Death and fate were playing with Noel like a circle that kept spinning, he was trapped in it and couldn't run out.
So, who should he blame for everything that happened to him? To whom should he avenge every pain, and this moment is no exception. Thinking about how he must face fate again is like swallowing hundreds of bitter pills. Then, does fate want him to start a new life from scratch?
As the minutes passed, the dazed mind slowly evaporated. Taking a deep breath, Noel walked towards where the shower was. There was a flash of embarrassment as he recalled how he had presumptuously unzipped to see the private body parts of the owner of the body he was now occupying. However, that didn't last long.
Once the faucet was opened, Noel felt somewhat relaxed at the hot water that poured out. Cleansing the stains on the body. Noel rubbed the surface of the skin and felt something different on the back and stomach area. His eyes closed under the tap water couldn't allow him to see clearly, so Noel turned off the shower.
Noel was surprised to find many scars on his stomach and back. His hands trembled as he felt a five-centimeter-long scar on the abdomen, as well as what he believed to be gunshot wounds on the back and left side of the chest, almost to the heart.
"It must have hurt a lot when these wounds were fresh," muttered Noel, imagining himself getting how many wounds it must have been only to shudder in horror.
Finishing his cleaning, Noel exited the bathroom to find a white short-sleeved t-shirt stuck near the sink. He was grateful that the shirt was clean and not as dirty as the one he wore earlier. Noel quickly changed his shirt and looked around the place where he was currently.
Noel was surprised to see that it was practically deserted. No people, no life, no movement. Apparently he was alone there. Noel walked towards the window, outside the colorful street lights were brightly lit. He finally found out that he was in a very luxurious apartment with a view of New York City.
When Noel opened the refrigerator, he didn't find anything edible to fill his stomach, other than a few cans of beer and a few bottles of mineral water. And finally Noel took a bottle of mineral water to drink a few sips, then sat down on the dining table chair while massaging the temples that still left him dizzy.
Noel's shock became endless, when he accidentally saw that the calendar in the room showed the date January 08, 2009. Even though he remembered, just yesterday he closed his eyes for the last time during the winter in December 1994, time flies, doesn't it?
Noel didn't know what to do now other than leaning back in his chair, closing his eyes and sighing for the umpteenth time as he calmed his mind.
The faint sound of vibrations coming from a ringing cell phone spread from a different room, successfully breaking his reverie. Noel stood up to check the phone. There was no name on the call, just an unknown number. Although hesitant to pick up the call, Noel picked it up anyway, and immediately a voice from the other side greeted his eardrums.
"Hey Nate, I heard you got caught, huh? hahaha I knew something like this was bound to happen sooner or later. There's a saying, as smart as a squirrel jumps, it will eventually fall too, ahahaha ...!!!"
Noel could sense the sneer in the words of the person on the other side that was meant for the person named Nate. He frowned after hearing the laughter from that person, not knowing where the punchline was from the few sentences that were said. Noel still didn't understand the point of this conversation.
"Hey, why aren't you talking? Was your tongue cut out by them when you were caught?"
Noel cut off the call unilaterally.
"Caught?" Noel repeated one of the words spoken by the stranger on the other end of the line with a puzzled expression.
At once, Noel remembered something. Immediately, he made a small run to the bathroom. His eyes darted around, until he finally found what he was looking for. Noel picked up the gun and he remembered something.
"This is a real gun." Noel stared in half disbelief. Now he knew, the owner of this body was Nate.
Outside, the apartment bell rang, signaling the arrival of someone. Slowly but surely, Noel made his way to the entrance to check who was coming with a gun in hand.
The bell rang once again. Noel had reached the door. He tightened his grip on the handle of the gun.
"Open the door, it's the police!" A voice came from outside.
To Noel's shock, the gun fell to the floor. Receiving no response from inside, the uninvited guest punched in some numbers on the apartment's password.
The door opened, then closed again. The person stepped inside and found Noel standing still with a trembling body and cold sweat dripping down his forehead, not far from where he stood a gun lying on the floor.
"You ...?!"
And darkness was the last thing Noel saw before his body collapsed unconscious.
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