Page 42 of Cain
I need to see her. I need to breathe her, touch her. Get inside her.
I still remember the first time I saw her in her hometown. A place so breathtakingly beautiful it felt almost magical. And yet, to me, it was tainted. Stained byhispresence.
I had only been there once before.
When Landon told me he had found footage of a man who looked exactly like him, I laughed it off. Impossible. But then I saw it with my own eyes, and my blood ran cold.
It washim.Alive. Walking. Fucking breathing.
But how? I killed him. I know I did. No one could have survived that explosion. Not when the fire swallowed his car whole, turning steel to ash. Not when I stood there and watched the flames consume everything.
And yet, here he was, trying to play tricks on my mind.
I had to see for myself. I went to that cursed place and searched.
I threatened scumbags. I bribed cops. I questioned anyone who might know anything about him.
But in the end, no one did.
Not a whisper. Not a trace. It was as if he had never existed.
And yet, I had seen him. I knew he was real.
Which meant he was hiding. Or worse, he was waiting.
And then, one day, as I observed the people around me trying to convince me that I was not crazy, I saw her.
Katerina.
She walked down the cobblestone roads of Prague, lost in her thoughts. She wore a simple outfit. Light-washed jeans and a black leather jacket over a white shirt. She was spring itself, drifting down the road.
Her expression was troubled. Sad, even. Yet somehow, that sadness only made her more breathtaking. More ethereal.
She was beautiful. More beautiful than any woman I had ever laid eyes on. Even in sorrow, she was the sun, casting light upon everyone around her. A kind of light I had never known—a type of warmth I had never deserved.
She was perfect. Too perfect.
I wanted to go and speak to her. To know what thoughts ran behind those magical ice-blue eyes. To touch her, just once.
But then I hesitated.
She was too pure. Too untouched by the darkness that clung to me like a second skin. She didn’t belong anywhere near a mind as deranged as mine.
So, I stayed in the shadows. Watching. Wanting.
And that’s when the obsession began.
I watched her. Everywhere. Every day. At first, from a distance, hidden in the faceless crowds of the city.
But I needed more.
I decided to stay in Prague for some time.
I learned the rhythm of her life. I memorized the way she smiled at strangers but, in a weird way, never at herself. Something about her made me want to stay. Keep observing.
I learned about her interests. Her love for dance faded when no one ever supported her to follow that path. Her parents never allowed her to dream it. It would be too against their filthy values and mindset.
They saw a doll to be controlled and nothing more. They used her like a tool, demanded more than she could ever give, and when she failed to meet their impossible standards, they pushed her aside—locked her down, forgetting her existence.
