The First Victim

Carlsbad Czech Republic

It's a deep night and a young woman runs through the silent bathing town. Fresh bruises on the face make it impossible for her to look around. Blood is flowing down in streams, from the cut on her forehead. The swelling around the eye area is growing by the second. She is exhausted from all those numerous wounds; she needs to rest.

At the beginning of August, it's from time to time a little chilly. Such cold air makes it harder to breathe. She is nervous and frantically turns around herself. Repeatedly stumbles and steps on her long pink skirt of that damn dress. She tries to hold it up, but her bruised hands, plus a complicated white lace are disobeying her.

Someone is following that poor girl. With a faster pace, that person is sneaking closer to her from the darkness. She knows, she needs to hide or find someone, who would help her. She continues with her escape along the river. For a moment she leans on a railing, so she can take a deep breath. The world is spinning together with her. She continues on her way, crossing the bridge over a river. She inspects the buildings surrounding her. Even the slightest hint of light in any of the windows from those old houses would make her feel hope, but it appears to be a ghost town.

The girl is slowing down. She is too tired and exhausted. Takes a turn on the edge of a building and escapes into the bushes, so she can hide and take a little long-awaited rest. Finally, she sat down, still shaking for her life. Curled up in a ball rocking back and forth. Confused, she didn't know what to do, where to find help...

Tears are pressing their way into her eyes. In this state, silently crying, she didn't notice, that someone was already close. Someone who had just one motive,... to hurt her. Her persecutor had noticed her hiding in the bushes. The leaves gave her away, which she moved with her rocking.

He was coming closer to the unsuspecting girl. Suddenly she heard steps. She stopped to cry and held her breath, overlapping her lips with her hands. She was listening to that person's march. She thought he left...

Out of nowhere, a hand appeared, grabbed her by the hair, and pulled her out of the green hiding space. Just a light reflection from the public lighting in the knife and the last desperately silent scream of the girl. The swoosh sounds of the knife stabs were disappearing in the sound of the nearby river...