WARNING! NSFW 18+ content sexual abuse
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Cold cotton specks fell on parts of the earth experiencing freezing temperatures. Blanketing everything they could touch in white. Winter in Moscow, in the southern region of Russia. When night passed and the moon reigned. People preferred to curl up in thick blankets like cocoons rather than go outside to see the white snowflakes. Spending the long night, dreaming sweet dreams.
The opposite happened to Noel Baluev. He hated winter just as he hated the way billions of natural cotton fell gracefully due to gravity, just as he hated life. His life, chained in the darkness of nightmares. Coming and never leaving for a second — always present again and again, like breath that only disappears when its exhale reaches the end of the throat.
People say dreams are the flowers of sleep. No matter how bad your dream is, it will all vanish once you wake up. But that doesn't apply to this seventeen-year-old young man. When he woke from his sleep, that dream became reality.
Noel stared blankly at the person above him. His gaze was empty, like a lump of a doll. Motionless and silent, even though his soul was screaming, writhing, begging for mercy.
With only half of his consciousness remaining, Noel was already very familiar with this atmosphere. Violence. Pain and the smell of blood were no stranger to him. Noel could feel how cold the iron shackling his wrists was. Even so, it wasn't as cold as the gaze of the person above him.
That person was thrusting his penis roughly. There was no gentleness at all. With his increasingly fragile body, what could Noel do other than surrender to this heinous treatment? Noel wanted to scream for this torture to stop. But his scream was trapped in his throat by a cruel tyranny as he choked on suffering. Besides, Noel had been treated like this often, day by day the torture against him became more extreme. Noel's body could no longer tolerate the actions of that person. The pain Noel now felt was unbearable, the grip of that person's hand tightened around his neck, the movements growing rougher by the second, thrusting his penis deeper into Noel's body. Generating waves of excruciating pain, tearing the wounds deeper. Tears that had long flowed like a small river down Noel's pretty face had now stopped.
"Your body is always delightful as usual." The person sneered while staring sharply into Noel's eyes.
Noel shook his head weakly, trying to speak, but couldn't because a cruel hand was pressing down on his throat very hard. Not even speaking, just breathing was difficult. Almost every inch of his skin bore fresh cut scars. Some horrific bruises like ornaments, not to mention the bluish bite marks around his shoulders and nape.
The increasing and ever-growing pain numbed Noel's body. Blood continued to flow where that person thrust in and out, staining the white sheets that bore witness to the sexual abuse happening now.
Poor Noel, once the person above him reached climax, it signaled the end of his game. Noel lay limp with the many wounds he suffered. But none compared to the wound carved so deeply in his heart. A wound that perhaps could never be healed.
Satisfied, the person zipped up his pants, briefly kissing the forehead of his lover, or rather his sex doll. Then he carried Noel's fragile body to the bathroom to be cleaned.
Inside the bathtub, the person diligently cleaned Noel's body, with a towel and warm water. He wiped gently as if afraid of adding to the wounds on that body. His behavior was very different from a few minutes ago. Splashes of water from a shower flowed over Noel's body, mixing with blood from the scratches on his body, falling into the bathtub. After deeming it sufficient, the person carried Noel's cold body in his arms.
"I love you," he said softly, along with a drop of clear liquid that managed to escape from his eyelids.
---
Noel Baluev felt darkness enveloping him, sucking him like a whirlpool as consciousness was forced out of a deathlike sleep, as if his heart had long stopped beating.
Noel opened his eyes, waking with a throbbing pain in his head. He frowned while massaging his temples. His mind seemed to turn to dust, his vision blurry along with the throbbing pain in his temples. While trying to sit up straight, Noel blinked, adjusting his vision to the bright room light.
The first thing he saw was a room filled with white ceramic tiles. Spreading his gaze to every corner of the room, his attention caught familiar objects like a shower and a sink. Noel was sure he was now in a bathroom. He was lying there, in a bathtub.
Submerged in water, his entire body wet, his fingers wrinkled. Noel didn't know how long he had been soaking while still fully clothed: a white short-sleeved t-shirt and long black pants that fit his legs perfectly. Exploring the silence in stillness. Noel's consciousness suddenly returned, and he found himself waking up in a very unfamiliar bathroom. Because he didn't know whose it was, whose residence it was, and why the clothes he was wearing were covered in dried blood stains. No, not only his clothes were covered in blood stains, but the water in the bathtub where his body was submerged was also mixed with blood. Shock and fear stabbed his chest instantly.
Suddenly trembling, Noel felt several parts of his body. Was anything injured? He ended up finding no bruises or scratches that still stung, wounds resulting from that person's actions.
Moving to another part, Noel slowly unzipped the long black pants he was wearing. Opening his legs slightly, checking if there were any severe wounds down there, remembering how that person always cruelly played with his lower body. While swallowing hard, Noel looked more carefully and found nothing injured there. Noel was astonished by this situation.
Delving back into the seconds grappling with various emerging questions, Noel realized something was wrong. An image from before he closed his eyes, flashing like a blizzard in the most extreme winter.
A black, large, long coffin without a name. A young man's body, bones wrapped in flesh, flesh wrapped in white skin, both hands resting on his stomach. His face was pale and expressionless behind strands of blonde hair. Possessing the definitions of any human face, but too handsome and very pale. He was a preserved corpse, lifeless, lying there wearing a white shawl collar tuxedo.
The owner of that corpse was himself, his life had been taken.
And he was already dead.
Noel was stunned, drowning in horror. His mind wandered again along with the wind blowing from the air vent. When he turned to the right side of the bathtub, he was shocked again. A Colt 1911 pistol along with a dark, worn black wool coat lying casually on the bathroom floor. The coat was stained with dried blood, and there was a white rabbit face mask lying not far from there.
A huge question mark had filled Noel's head. In his ribs, his heart thundered. Noel immediately got up from the bathtub even though several joints in his body felt sore when moved.
Staggering, dragging his legs, approaching the sink to splash water on his face, his heart seemed to stop beating right then when Noel saw his reflection in the mirror. A strange shadow from the mirror imprinted on his retina. The body he now inhabited was not his old body. Where had his old body gone? What was happening to him now? If this was a dream, then everything was impossible, considering that he was already dead.
Noel still felt dizzy so he didn't fully understand the situation he was facing. "Th-this isn't my body, wait, did I steal it? No, this must be a dream. I didn't steal it, something must be wrong."
Noel looked at that face in the mirror in more detail. Pinching both cheeks, this face was somewhat similar to his past face, but more handsome. This man had a pair of grayish-gray eyes, very contrasting with his bright blue eyes when he was alive. Slightly wavy blonde hair, also darker and a bit longer with bangs covering his forehead. Noel continued to observe this body, it was the body of a slightly slim, fit adult man about one hundred eighty centimeters tall.
"This man's body is taller than me, his body is better than mine, his fingers are also longer than mine."
Noel paced back and forth in the room. Confused about how to deal with this situation. Forcing himself to think made his knees feel weak until he immediately 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 indeed hard to believe.
Death and fate were toying with Noel like a continuously spinning circle, he was trapped inside and couldn't escape.
Then, who should he blame for everything that had happened to him? To whom should he demand retribution for every suffering, including now. Thinking about how he had to face fate again was like swallowing hundreds of bitter pills. So, did fate want him to start a new life from scratch?
A few minutes passed, his dazed thoughts slowly evaporated. While letting out a long sigh, Noel walked to where the shower was. There was a slight feeling of shame when remembering how he had boldly unzipped to see the private parts of the body owner he now occupied. However, that didn't last long.
As soon as the faucet was turned on, Noel felt somewhat relaxed by the hot water pouring out. Cleaning the stains on his body. Noel scrubbed the surface of his skin and felt something different on his back and stomach. His closed eyes under the shower spray couldn't let him see clearly, so Noel turned off the shower.
How shocked Noel was when he discovered many scars on his stomach and back. His trembling hand touched a five-centimeter-long scar on his stomach, as well as wounds he believed to be bullet wounds on his back and left chest, almost hitting his heart.
"It must have been very painful when these wounds were still fresh," murmured Noel, imagining himself receiving those wounds, only able to shudder in horror.
Finishing cleaning himself, Noel left the bathroom after finding a short-sleeved white t-shirt caught near the sink. He was grateful the shirt was clean and not as dirty as the one he had been wearing. Noel immediately changed his clothes and looked around the place where he was now.
Noel was surprised to see the condition, which could be described as quiet. No people, no life, no movement. It turned out he was alone there. Noel walked to the window, outside the colorful streetlights were shining brightly. Finally, he realized that he was in an apartment that could be described as very luxurious with a view of the New York City skyline.
When Noel opened the refrigerator, he didn't find anything edible to fill his stomach, besides 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 at the dining table chair while massaging his temples which still left a headache.
Noel's shock increased endlessly when he accidentally saw a calendar hanging in the room showing the date January 8, 2009. Whereas as far as he remembered, he had just closed his eyes for the last time during winter in December 1994. Time passed so quickly, didn't it?
Noel didn't know what to do anymore except lean back in his chair while closing his eyes and letting out yet another sigh while calming his mind.
Faint vibration sounds from a ringing phone spread from a different room, successfully breaking his reverie. Noel stood up to check the phone. There was no name listed on the call, just an unknown number. Although hesitant to answer the call, Noel still answered it, and immediately a voice from the other end greeted his eardrums.
"Hey Nate, I heard you got caught, huh? hahaha I knew something like this sooner or later would happen. There's a saying, as clever as a squirrel jumps, eventually it will fall too, ahahaha...!"
Noel could sense the mockery in the words of the person on the other end directed at someone named Nate. He frowned after hearing that person's laughter, not understanding where the humor was in the sentences just spoken. Noel still didn't understand the essence of this conversation.
"Hey, why aren't you talking? Did they cut your tongue off when you got caught—"
Noel ended the call unilaterally.
"Caught?" Noel repeated one word spoken by a stranger on the phone with a confused expression.
Instantly, Noel remembered something. He immediately ran to the bathroom. His gaze scanned around, until finally finding what he was looking for. Noel picked up the pistol and he remembered something.
"This is a real gun." Noel stared in semi-disbelief. Now he knew, the owner of this body was named Nate.
Outside, the apartment bell rang, signaling someone's arrival. Slowly but surely, Noel headed to the front door to check who it was, with a pistol in his grip.
The bell rang once more. Noel had reached the door. He tightened his grip on the gun handle.
"Open the door, this is the police!" A voice sounded from outside.
A shocked Noel's eyes widened, the pistol fell to the floor. Receiving no response from inside, the uninvited guest pressed a few digits of the apartment's passcode.
The sound of the door opening, then closing again. That person stepped inside and found Noel standing frozen, his body trembling and cold sweat dripping from his forehead, not far from where he stood a pistol lying on the floor.
"You...?!"
And darkness was the last thing Noel saw before his body collapsed unconscious.
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