Rebirth

The sky was cloudy, and the lash of raindrops fell mercilessly. I was working with a pickaxe in the forced labor camp when a party official, smartly dressed in a long raincoat and boots that seemed too large for his feet, quietly approached me. His face was completely covered. After slipping a cigarette into my pocket, he murmured, "Tonight... Room 102... I've made arrangements with the guard."

I continued to work, ignoring his presence. This was routine. If I'd acted unusually, I would have been flogged.

Although I didn't smoke, I didn't dare refuse or disobey. Those damned fascists, with their soulless eyes, were looking for any excuse to torture us.

After a few minutes, the guard came to me and gruffly said, "Enough, Princess. Go wash yourself."

The word "Princess" was used for prisoners who were favorites.  Good-looking young men like me, whose working hours were halved in exchange for providing nightly services, and who could benefit from other, albeit meager, privileges. Recently, one of the "Princesses" had been severely tortured and killed horribly, so much so that even identifying him seemed difficult.

My back wouldn't straighten. I tossed the pickaxe aside and took off my patched-up gloves. I looked at my palms. The scars burned, the pain now a part of my life, a pain that reached its peak when working with the shovel and pickaxe. I was at the end of my rope. Every day I prayed this would be my last day working in that hellhole. I looked around. Even in that cold wave, the stench of filth permeated the camp. Vomit, feces, urine, and the blood of the workers were everywhere. The workers glared at me resentfully. No one spoke to me. We were considered informants to them, even if we weren't.

After showering, I threw myself on the cot. There was still an hour until the nightly gathering. It would be better to slip away before the other workers arrived. But I still had time to rest a little.

I pulled a cigarette from my pocket and placed it on my lips like a commander.  An involuntary arrogant smile formed on my face. I mimicked taking a drag and released imaginary smoke into the air.

Every commander had their favorite, and I belonged to someone who could easily be called a psychopath. Fortunately, every time I went to his room, he would tear my clothes to shreds. He would seat me in his favorite chair and, without even touching me, perform strange and disgusting acts. All I could do was close my eyes, and if I could have, I would have covered my ears as well. The sounds of his screams and moans still echoed in my ears. After he finished, which took at least an hour, he would give me a box of chocolates or sweets as a reward and throw me out.

I didn't know whether to be happy that he had died a few days ago and I no longer had to see his sinister face, or worried about what the next one would be like.

Two weeks had passed since the new commander's arrival, but he was rarely seen. I only saw him once on the balcony smoking a cigarette. I showed him respect and waited, but he just stared at me, and it looked like he was smiling. Although, from that distance, I couldn't tell for sure. I heard from the workers that he had come there to investigate a murder case.

I hid a cigarette under the metal edge of my bed to use later as a bribe for the guard, to keep me safe from the predictable harassment I'd face from the other workers. I got up and left the dormitory.

It had started to rain. I went to the kitchen. A place where only commanders and their favorites were allowed. Even the guards and soldiers were forbidden from entering. Besides me, three others were there. Familiar faces... but talking or communicating was forbidden, and if caught, it resulted in the death penalty. The female servant approached and, even though she knew my order, asked, "What would you like?"

She was still a teenager, with a childlike face. Her red hair was tied back in a ponytail, and her clinging beige dress showed off her prominent breasts. The maids, in addition to the commanders, were masters at attracting the attention of the princesses. Before I could speak, she said, "How's the coffee?"

I smiled and nodded. She turned and walked charmingly towards the counter with an alluring air. I couldn't take my eyes off her. Contact with them was also forbidden.

I drank the coffee and walked with trembling steps to the commander's room.

As soon as I arrived, I knocked and waited. A voice called me inside. Unlike the previous room, a mild, pleasant smell filled the room. Everything was neatly arranged in a specific order. One-third of the room was filled with cigarette smoke. Everything seemed familiar. A closet full of old books, paintings by famous artists on the walls, polished antiques in the corners, and a beautifully patterned hand-woven carpet completed the room. For a moment, I was transported back several years, to when I would go to my father's room and watch him typing.

The commander immediately stood up. He didn't seem to expect my arrival. But his behavior was normal. He walked towards me and extended his hand in greeting. I was struck dumb. What should I do? He ignored my handshake and guided me towards his desk. I sat down slowly and glanced at the items on the desk. Several notebooks and pens, a reading lamp, an ashtray full of extinguished cigarette filters, a typewriter, and a small cubic box.

The commander sat down behind the desk, opposite me, and lit another cigarette. For a short time, silence prevailed. I stared at my hands.

The commander broke the silence and said, "Thank you for accepting my invitation..."

His voice was strangely calm and monotonous, yet, like hypnosis, it seemed to have a high petrifying power and was magical.

I raised my head and looked into his eyes.

A pale, gaunt face with sleek, black, combed-back hair. Small eyes with thin eyebrows. If his hair were longer, I would have certainly mistaken him for a woman. He was pale, and looked like a walking corpse.

He took a puff from his cigarette and opened the file on his desk. He glanced at the first page and muttered to himself, as if talking to himself:  “Adam Miller… twenty-two years old… rifleman, 12th Regiment… time spent in the camp… two years…”

He lifted his head and asked inquisitively: “So, what else?!”

Confused, I asked: “What?!”

“Is there anything you want to tell me that isn't written here?”

What could I say? I fell into thought but nothing came to mind. I secretly glanced at my watch. Damn it, only ten minutes had passed.

The commander, who had been tapping his fingers on the table, noticed my glance and asked: “Do you want to get to the point faster?”

I was getting frustrated. I rubbed my palms on my clothes several times and fell silent.

“I’m used to knowing people. That’s how I work. You don’t have a problem with that, do you?”

I immediately shook my head negatively.

“Good.”

He stood up and came towards me. He bent down and sniffed right behind my neck. The hairs on my body stood on end. He went to the other side of the room and locked the door. Then he returned and sat on my knees. He put his arm around my neck and pressed his lips to my ear.

“You don’t need to be afraid of me. I won’t hurt you.”

Then he caressed my hair and smelled it.

“Ah… the natural scent of a human. The subtle smell of skin and hair…”

He stood up and lit another cigarette.

“I’ll only be here for another month. If you cooperate, I’ll set you free and take you with me. What do you think?”

I stared at him. The word freedom, for prisoners like me, had long lost its meaning and now it was trying to sprout like a bush from the earth. I quickly became suspicious. Freedom with him, to another place?! But was there anywhere worse than this forced labor camp? Perhaps they would transfer me to a regular prison. A place where you weren’t forced to work, or to submit to any degrading act.

“I… what should I do?”

“You must cooperate with me. Can you do that?”

“If…”

“without ifs, buts and maybes… first you must confirm. If you do what I say, I’ll keep my word.”

“If I can’t?”

The commander leaned over the table. He pulled his body towards me and softly, in a voice that seemed to come from the bottom of a well, said: “Although I easily could, I don’t want to force anyone… I have my own rules and following them makes me feel good. You can trust me... Besides, this is your only chance.”

He pressed his head against mine and smiled. His offer was tempting. But not knowing what he wanted me to do sent shivers down my spine. I swallowed my saliva and, without giving myself time to regret it, softly said: “I’ll do it.”

A wide smile spread across his face, and he kissed me.

Then he sat back down and breathed a sigh of relief.

“What you do depends on you… it can be entertainment for you, or it can lead to your death. But there’s no turning back.”

I was petrified. No sexual act is dangerous enough to cause death unless the person uses extreme violence. Perhaps it’s not a sexual act at all!

The commander, as if remembering something, said, "Before we get to work... I want your opinion on this..."

He pulled a picture from a drawer and held it up to me. A well-dressed, handsome man with half-moon glasses stared at the camera. Smiling, seated in a wooden chair, his fingers interlocked, his leg crossed over the other. His face was familiar, but I didn't know where I'd seen him. Before I could say anything, the commander showed me another picture. My mouth went dry. It was a picture of the princess's mutilated corpse.

"You want to find his killer, right?"

The commander nodded. "There's nothing anyone can do. He's dead."

"But..."

"The case is closed."

"He was murdered."

"Nobody cares."

"Maybe his commander did it..."

"He's been acquitted, even if he did it."

"It's not fair..."

"Maybe..."

I looked up and stared at the commander.

"Maybe? What do you mean?"

The commander crossed his leg and said nonchalantly, "What matters is the reason... maybe he did something that deserved death."

"But not like this..."

"Death is death... whether it's a brutal murder or a stroke in your sleep... the method is beyond our control."

I had no answer.

The commander lit another cigarette, then put the photo back in the box. He then reached in and pulled out a small, black cobra. Involuntarily, I stood up and took a few steps back.  Ignoring me, the commander swirled the snake around his hands and said, "A snake can only kill with its venom. But people... have many choices."

He skillfully grasped the snake's head, stroked it, kissed it, and continued: "Just as a snake only bites for defense or attack, humans have different motivations in this regard."

He stood up and went to the cupboard in the corner of the room. He took two glasses and returned to the table. He placed one in front of me and pulled the other towards himself.

He reached into the box again and this time pulled out two large bottles. The first was a new, sealed bottle of wine; the other was an old, faded black bottle with its label removed, its contents half-empty and unidentified. The commander opened both bottles and poured some of each into the glasses. A sharp, pungent odor, like metal, filled the air.

The snake continued its path across the commander's neck and head, moving back and forth. Then he gestured for me to sit down.

"Don't be afraid, it won't hurt you. Of course, be careful; its bite can kill you in less than a few minutes."

I remained standing. My heart was racing. My mouth was dry, and my breaths were heavy. I tried to control myself.

"I can... I can stand here."

"You should sit down."

"I said that..."

"This is an order..."

I took a deep breath and hesitantly sat down. He picked up his glass of wine. He raised it, waiting for me. I glanced at my drink. My reflection was clearly visible in the thin, red wine.

The commander laughed and said, "It's good that you have doubts... Maybe if I were you, I would do the same thing."

I didn't want to show my fear any more than I already had, and I said, "It doesn't matter what happens to me."

"But your appearance suggests otherwise."

"A natural reaction to the unknown..."

"Correct..."

I raised my glass. Then I drank some of it. It tasted like a can of sweat on the workers ' table, except that the concentration prevented me from going down my throat quickly.

My face contorted. I coughed, unable to stop myself.

“What in the hell was that…?”

The taste lingered. Compared to it, poison seemed like pure, refreshing spring water.

The commander, doubled over with laughter, drained his glass and slammed it on the table.

“Oh… my God… How about another shot?”

I immediately stood up. “I think I should go back…”

The commander slammed his fist on the table and roared, “Sit your ass down, you…”

His face had changed so drastically that if he’d had a gun, he would have shot me right then. I was shocked by his reaction.

We stared at each other, frozen. The snake, oblivious to its owner, hissed and watched its surroundings intently. The wine glass on the table had overturned, its contents spilling onto the floor.

The commander repeated calmly, “I said sit down… now.”

Looking into his eyes was like looking into the eyes of a madman. Full of hatred and malice, yet cold and lifeless…

I sat down. I felt a cold sweat trickle down the side of my head. The commander picked up the old, black bottle again and refilled the glasses.

His smiling face returned. But this time, instead of adding wine, he took the vodka from the shelf and poured it into the glasses. I had a bad feeling about that bottle, but I had no choice. I managed to drink half the glass. My throat burned, and tears welled up in my eyes. I pointed to the old bottle and said, “Can you tell me what’s in this?”

The commander sneered, a hint of regret in his voice.  "Ah... these days, my mind wanders... you know..."

He gestured vaguely with his hands. "Dealing with a bunch of idiots... who don't even know why they're here... they think they're having a good time every night, and the next day they bark like newly trained guard dogs at those filthy mice... it's just... incomprehensible..."

He trailed off, turning to me. He smoothed his hair and adjusted his clothes.

"Anyway... where were we? Ah... this might be unpleasant for you, but this... is the princess's remaining blood..."

I didn't hear him finish. My insides exploded. The contents of my stomach surged towards my mouth like an erupting volcano, but stopped abruptly before reaching it. I gripped my knees, struggling to prevent myself from vomiting on the commander.

He chuckled. "I know it's not pleasant the first time. But once you get used to it, you won't be able to stop."

Get used to it?! I've gotten used to every kind of hardship and poison these past two years, but blood...

The commander continued enthusiastically.

"The sweetest taste in the world... captivating... healing... amazing and addictive... just be patient."

Oh, go to hell. I could say it was worse than moldy sausage. The worst...

Suddenly, my body froze. I felt strange, light as a feather. It was like waking from a long winter's sleep. A halo of light surrounded all objects, and the images in front of my eyes rippled. I felt deafened, but the commander's voice, calm and gentle, echoed not in my ears, but in my mind.

The commander looked at me more closely, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. "Finally..."

I tried to answer, but couldn't. I smiled and nodded.

It felt like I'd lost control, watching a movie where I was the main character.

Unconsciously, I picked up my glass, swirled the contents, and then drained it in one long gulp.

The Commander was right. The taste of blood, compared to that previous muck, was the sweetest concoction I'd ever had. I leaned back in my chair and laughed uncontrollably. The Commander was elated and joined in. We drank three more glasses, and finally, the Commander pulled out his cigarette pack. He lit one for me and put another to his lips. Then he spread his hands apart and said with a relieved expression:

“See how easy it was?! Now Tell me about yourself…”

“There’s nothing worth saying.”

“Was meeting me worth it?”

I took a drag of my cigarette and smirked, “Better than my first meeting with my girlfriend.”

I had never met a girl, but the words weren't mine. My mouth moved involuntarily; my tongue seemed to be quoting someone else.

The Commander raised his eyebrows. “Unbelievable!”

“Do you think I can have a second chance?!”

“Forget it… it’s garbage.”

“You like garbage?”

“I hate good things.”

“I’m happy with who I am.”

“Me Too!”

Words poured from my mouth incessantly, and it was clear the Commander enjoyed the conversation.

The snake slithered slowly from the Commander's hands onto the table. With a few twists of its body, it approached my hands, then made its way towards my neck. I stared at it. Eye to eye. As if we’d known each other for years. Twisting its tongue, it said, "Can you trust me?"

Its voice was sharp and menacing.

I said, "Of course."

It ran its tongue across my skin and coiled around my neck. Its smooth, cool skin was a balm. I had to take it from the Commander. That extraordinary creature could be mine forever.

The Commander watched eagerly. Now he too had a snake-like tongue. His body had changed color, turning black. He smiled and said, "Do you want to live?!"

I stroked his head and said, "Did you kill the princess?"

“Of course… He was so pathetic. Weak. Cowardly.”

“I don’t want to be like her.”

“You’ve proven that.”

“What happens now?!”

“You live. Forever… just like me…”

Then, eagerly, he continued, "May I kiss your neck… may I?"

I took a drag of my cigarette and confidently said, "Certainly."

I pulled aside my clothes and leaned forward. His face was filled with joy. He twisted his lower body and hissed, approaching closer.

He sank his fangs into my flesh and sucked my blood.

I sighed and began to caress him. It was delightful. Intoxicated with endless pleasure, I fell into a deep sleep.

When I woke up, my neck burned. The burning sensation consumed me. However, I still felt comfortable. I glanced at the clock. Half the night had passed. The commander was staring at a large painting of a dilapidated palace in the corner of the room.

I stood up, and suddenly my head spun. The commander noticed me and in the blink of an eye reached me. He held me and helped me regain my balance. I lifted my head and saw the blood around his mouth, I suddenly attacked him and greedily licked his bloody lips. I continued doing this until I was breathless… I bent over and coughed. It was as if I had fallen into a well with no escape. I was in a labyrinth with no way out. My seal of fall into darkness had been stamped, and like an irreversible past, I was heading towards destruction.

The commander sat me down on the couch and while caressing my face with his icy hands, he said with a satisfied smile: "Don't rush… now you're one of us."