Vitro was already inebriated when Mary and Nadja arrived at his home at 7:05 a.m. He was alone in the living room. He had no time to stand on ceremonies. He began kissing and caressing Mary from head to toe. Mary clung to him. They remained in an embrace for around 30 seconds until Vitro scooped her up and took her to his bedroom.
Nadja collapsed on the bed, spread out on the left side of the double bed, naked and motionless, completely exhausted and out of breath. She was able to focus on the grandfather clock hanging over the window. 2.15 p.m. was the time. She leisurely watched the fifth installment of the coming and going between Vitro and Mary. She observed as it slowly grew more intense. She rolled over and dozed off.
She was startled by Mary's intense and aspirated scream, coupled with a fountain explosion that shot three rich jets of warm liquid throughout the room in quick succession. Mary lost her grip while jerking and convulsing with ecstasy and fell on the floor. Vitro went down with her.
However, Mary was now completely worn out and could go no further. A little while afterwards, she pleaded, "Enough! It's enough! I need to take a short break now! Vitro ran after her as she stormed out of the bedroom and into the living room.
Just that moment, Nadja heard the sound of two quick blows, followed by a heavy slump. She hurriedly reached for her clothes and raced to the scene to investigate. Mary lay unconscious on the ground.
Vitro heard Aleksa bluster, "This is what you want! You won't have to worry about money anymore if you finish it up!"
Without flinching, Vitro nodded, found the hammer under the rug where he hid it and struck Mary on the head brusquely and brutally. With blood spurting up in torrents splashing on the wall and floor, Vitro nonchalantly picked Mary's body up and took it to the kitchen.
The Blood-Bathed Kitchen
Nadja stood transfixed in the kitchen doorway, her own breath caught in her throat. Vitro dragged Mary's lifeless body across the floor, her limp arm sagging behind her like a broken doll. The metallic smell of blood pervaded the air, mixed with the acrid stench of turpentine. A pool of red coalesced beneath Vitro's boots, staining the tiles. Nadja's stomach churned, but she couldn't look away.
Nadja sighed and said, "Are you satisfied now? I know it's not about money. It's about your cancerous jealousy! And I am next on the line! How many have you two killed? And how many more are you going to kill? I hope you die like her, cold-hearted murderess!
* * *
Aleksa leaned against the counter with her arms folded, eyes glinting with sick satisfaction at Vitro. Her eyes drifted to Nadja, and a slow, sadistic smile spread across her face. "What's wrong, Nadja?" she taunted. "Never seen a little mess before?" Nadja's hands trembled as she held onto the doorframe, her knuckles white. She tried to keep quiet, but her mind was racing. Is this what happens to those who dare to cross them? Will I be next?
Vitro slammed Mary's body onto the kitchen table with a sickening thud. He walked to the knife block and pulled out a knife, his hands going slowly and methodically, as if this were no more than a chore. Nadja's heart pounded in her chest. She knew she wasn't just living with killers—she lived with them. The thought sickened her. She backed slowly away, her mind screaming at her to run, but her body was a lead weight.
Escaping at Night
A few hours later, Nadja lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. The face of Mary was imprinted on her mind. She heard Vitro and Aleksa arguing in the other room, their voices muffled but venomous. She knew she had to escape—tonight. She waited for the house to fall silent, then slipped out of bed, her feet moving quickly and quietly.
Nadja grabbed nothing but her coat and shoes. She did not grab anything that would slow her down. She tiptoed down the stairs, her heart pounding so hard she was sure it would wake them. The front door creaked when she opened it, and she paused, waiting to hear the sound of footsteps. As none came, she emerged into the icy night air.
She ran without direction, her breath coming in ragged gasps. The streets were empty, the only sound the echo of her footsteps. The cold bit at her skin, but she didn't stop. She didn't know where she was going, only that she couldn't stay. She thought of Vitro's calm, methodical movements in the kitchen and shuddered. "If he finds me, I'm dead."
Living in Fear
Weeks passed, and Nadja sat in a dirty motel room, gazing at her image in the broken mirror. She had cut her hair and colored it, changed her clothes, and taken on a new name: Sarah. A straightforward name, an easy one to know, an easy one to forget. She reassured herself it was a new beginning, but the terror never dissipated from her.
Sarah drifted from town to town, taking any work that was available—waitressing, cleaning, stocking groceries. She never formed connections, always cashing out and never staying long enough anywhere to get to know anyone. Every stranger's eye was menacing. She jumped at the footsteps following her, reaching into her pocket for the knife she now carried there.
Sarah didn't sleep at night, haunted by dreams of Mary. She replayed what had happened that had killed her, wondering if she could have done anything to stop it. Was I a party to it by not speaking out? Did I ever love Vitro, or was I just too afraid to walk away? The shame ate at her, but it was mixed with something else—anger. Anger at Vitro, at Aleksa, and at herself for being so weak.
A Twisted Reunion
Months after, Sarah ended up in a small, isolated town. It was the type of town where everyone knew each other, but she remained by herself, fading into the background. She worked at a local diner, convincing herself this was just another pit stop on her never-ending journey.
One afternoon, strolling through the local market, Sarah came to a standstill. Down the busy aisle, she saw Aleksa. Her heart stopped working. Aleksa was changed—her hair cropped shorter, her clothes less showy—but no one could question that calculating, cold-eyed glance. Sarah's breathing accelerated, and she darted behind a shelf, her head spinning. How did they find me?
As she wanted to run away, a hand clasped her arm. She turned, ready to struggle, but it was Vitro. He was older, more worn, but the same eyes looked out at her—sharp, calculating, full of danger. To her astonishment, he did not kill her. He smiled instead, his voice soft and contrite. "Nadja," he said, "I have missed you."
Vitro's words were sweet, heavy with promises and regret. He explained to her that they needed one another to live, that he had changed. Sarah knew that it was a lie, but the fear of what he would do if she did not go with him kept her quiet. Despite her better judgment, she consented to go back with him. But as she walked behind him to his car, something inside of her hardened. The fear did not go away, but it was no longer sole motivator.