As soon as the first lights of the day reached her bedroom, Nina jumped out of the bed, anxious, annoyed and exhausted. Her first thought was to get into the shower, hoping it would clean all those awful feelings from her mind as it would do with the tears and sweat.
She was leaving behind a horrific night, like she hadn't dealt with since the times of the chasing, when periods like this could almost disable her to do practically anything. Grabbing some clothes from her wardrobe, a simple t-shirt and shorts -her customary home clothing- she silently opened the door. Her head turned left, towards the guest room and its closed door. It seemed Johann was still there, so it was her chance to get into the bathroom.
It was astonishing to discover how the hard work of months could be dissolved like that, in just few hours, a single night. It had been enough to see him standing in the middle of the living room, his curious stare absorbing any detail on their surroundings, to destroy all her naively optimistic thoughts of future and happiness, the ones constructed around him. Little effort was required to imagine that same stare upon the bloody corpses on the ground. In Heidelberg, in Düsseldorf. Anywhere.
It had been a defensive strategy, she acknowledged, putting as much distance as possible between all that happened before his coma and the present. And it had been surprisingly easy, with her new life in a new city, everything feeling fresh and exciting. She didn't have to cross the same floor in which she had found her parents bodies', the same streets in which she had felt stalked and threatened, the same cities in which she had learned about his most sadistic entertainments. And Johann played a marvelous role, so ideal, honest enough for her to take him seriously and well-behaved enough to make all of it possible. She had the monster but no the criminal and she had begged for that opportunity, for years. Nina needed to face him, alone, and attack her brother with accusations, arguments and questions instead of bullets.
Johann had been the best therapy she had ever been offered, the most brutal one. He was right on that matter.
She was never going to regret her decision... up until that same night.
It all had started with Johann's extremely quiet presence, unusual even for him, accompanied by a random silly thought:
'I've opened the door to their killer.'
It had been the first shake in what became a downfall. An unstoppable train of thoughts rushing to collapse her as she desperately started ordering her stuff and cleaning the house, putting some distance between her mind and the trigger that was him. But the more distance created the more eccentric her thoughts became. It was like the previous months meant nothing to her growing paranoia, but a confirmation of what was never going to happen. She remembered a similar sensation -that chaotic panic, the fear, the sense of danger- as the Lieberts suddenly appeared dead and he exposed himself as the killer.
She just went back to that night, the same that required a decade of amnesia as a shield.
It had been easy to finally offer some excuse and hide in her bedroom. But that was when the nightmare had begun.
That reality was striking back at full force, the awareness that Johann was indeed a killer, with twenty years of experience by now. A killer without a single regret. There was a huge difference between registering that facet of him in the back of her mind while their memories were all that mattered in those discussions and the concrete idea of the emptiness of that house being completely his fault. His decision.
Johann was, before anything else, a killer. That night in Vienna had just been the softest showcase of the violence that existed within him. Becoming a leader was his fantasy, being a killer, his reality.
Nina might have been angry at him... but Anna... she was still terrified, somehow, deep down, despite of it all, because she was the one who saw a twin, herself.
Yet water might have magical properties as all those thoughts seemed to momentary fly away from her mind, which was left in a blank state that only enjoyed the warm touch, the chamomile smell of her lifetime favorite shampoo. Her hands washed her own face with enthusiasm, erasing all traces of the terrors of the previous night. Her entire body then, as the bath sponge rubbed over each trace of darkness in her skin. Once she closed the faucet, she felt like a brand-new person, able to face whatever challenge was thrown at her.
Bravery lasted little, though, dissolving as she was confronted with her own expression in the mirror. No, that wasn't the face of a warrior. Not with those red swollen eyes, not with the paleness of her skin. A damsel in distress suited her better.
There was little she hated more than the miserable role of a princess. Opening every drawer at her reach, she desperately looked for a miracle in the shape of every moisturizer, skin oil and finally make up product she owned. Luckily there were a fair amount of them. The same situation was repeating all over again, in that same bathroom, months apart, therefore she was well prepared.
Only when her skin locked healthier and more refreshed, her hair dry and combed and her clean clothing she dared to think it was a picture closer to a knight than a princess.
The only task left was to take care of that little mess she had created in order to purify herself for the battle.
The plan was simple, stay busy and thus distance herself from Johann. Luckily that house was a complete mess and it would appreciate the hard work she was willing to invest.
The question was his plans. And even more importantly... how well he understood what was happening to her. His rationality was going to strike again.
Her plan started with her bedroom, where clothing bags and boxes accumulated in every corner. Nina was rather tolerant with disorder but that was too much. And first of all, she had to divide all her wardrobe between the pieces she wanted to take with her to the new boring life and the ones she was leaving behind, for now. Some casual clothing as she didn't plan to have any serious social events, some formal pieces in case she started working, then she had to consider the accessories...
The footsteps approached her with a cadence slower than usual, and a shape dressed in black emerged from the corridor. A steady position, a silent stare. It remained there for almost a minute.
She was once again astonished by how fast he had recovered of his not-quite-suicide attempt, according to his own description, how well he was hiding the effects of having lost so much blood. Only the dressing in his arm, so swiftly covered by layers of clothing, that he never let her see again.
But it had happened, of course it had, and she only needed to read his eyes to realize it. The monster, that force that so cautiously lied beneath, once wounded, was now back in control, at full force. Only now she realized that the Johann she had known up until now had been indeed a convalescent brother, from the coma, the bullet, Prague... who knows.
"How long do you plan to stay in Heidelberg?" His sudden question had nothing of particular, yet it startled her enough to make the shirt she was folding fall from her hands. Her whole body in tension, she could feel it.
"Dammit!" She drew a smile before facing him, still crouched while folding the shirt again to stand only when it was done. "Where were you?"
However, Johann wasn't interested on her at all but on the room, as a distracted glance upon her turned into the most curious analysis of their surroundings. The apathy in his expression cracking for an instant. She was convinced there had been a smile there, in his eyes.
"I was out." At least he hadn't ignored her question. So, it was her time to answer his, as the shirt found a safe place on the bed, on top of many others.
"I don't know, but no more than a couple days... when I'm done with my luggage and clean up a little..." There was no reason to look at him when he wasn't staring back so she proceeded to consider the next piece, a light blue dress from her time as a student that... definitely was going to accompany her. She still loved it.
There was a brief silence and suddenly a truly condescending laughter, in its casual shape. She frowned, feeling annoyed but rejecting any sort of visual contact.
"You are overestimating yourself if you think you'll survive a couple more nights in this house. With me." Was he really making fun of her on that? Because it felt that way, instead of his usual mockery, one with more innocent intentions.
"What do you mean?" Then he entered the room, passing behind her to reach the window on the other side. She looked briefly to make sure of his position. Having him out of her sight didn't felt comfortable either.
His first answer was an intense stare upon her. She could feel it.
"Even with all the make up, your eyes still look swollen from all the crying." Why couldn't he just be sleeping like any other person would do? Just for that night... yet he continued. "It might also be that the walls are way too thin."
Perfect.
She had nothing to say thus focused on the task, that now consisted in dividing the clothing in smaller piles to store them on the drawer and wardrobe next to the door.
But he preferred to stay and observe her. He had more questions, he always did.
"Did you live here before moving to Dresden?" The mockery disappeared but the coldness of his voice remained. He was probably punishing her, for something her crying made him feel, whatever that was. There might be no reason at all.
"Yes." She decided to stay polite at least, being impossible to remain kind. She had lived there, those three years, on her own, a practical decision that gave her many sleepless nights.
"You came back to Heidelberg the day after our 24th birthday, after your first visit to my hospital room," it was 'ours' now, "when you received my donation. But you preferred to stay here instead of using that money for renting an apartment elsewhere in town." That was just his thoughts said loud. But in that very moment they felt like an accusation.
And she reacted.
"Do you really thought, for one second, that I would ever use your money!?" She shouted, and instead of trying to control her volume she used it as an excuse to get rid of some tension. "Money obtained... how exactly? Off-shores... drugs, human trafficking?" She hoped her question was again left unanswered.
And it seemed like that, as she finally got a glimpse of him and his merciless eyes. However it proved a bad idea, a provocation even, as Johann decided to approach her, sitting on the tiny space she had left free on the corner of the bed, right next to her.
"Whether you use it or not changes nothing regarding its origin." His voice as neutral as before. "I gave it to you because I hoped you would dare to use it in case of extreme necessity, since this house has lost all its market value by becoming a crime scene. Consider it a compensation."
She tried to keep a steady breath, her body tension, while she was arranging some or her blouses, as lovely as delicate.
Johann was trying to provoke, it was just that... Or his lack of empathy played its role and he underestimated the emotional damage his words could still cause, even in those sloppy attempts where he meant to be kind. But now wasn't the case, not exactly. He was perfectly aware of all the problems he had caused her with murdering her parents: the emotional and psychological, but also the economical ones, as she had also lost her source of financial stability. The last being collateral damage for him so he tried to compensate them. He was just being brutally rational.
Yet she wasn't in the mood to be rational, and thus decided to start putting all the clothes in the drawer, getting away from him. In the back of her mind was starting to form the idea that this very moment was going to be their first true collision, unlike the others, when one of them unleashed while the other twin keep the control for the sake of... everything. Who was going to stop them now?
But he continued, remaining casual.
"The room looks the same, you haven't changed anything... the teddy bear, the paintings... time has frozen within these walls." And as easily as that Johann's voice was stained by nostalgia. Could he really feel any?
The conversation had slipped over a more casual topic, but she decided to stay cautious. Johann was going to attack, at least she knew that.
"As I've just said I didn't have any money left for decoration." The inheritance was enough to survive, but not exactly to keep her previous lifestyle, not with so much uncertainty ahead.
He had other things in mind.
"No, I mean since you started living here." His stare was back to her and it struck her like a whole new idea: Johann had lived there, with her, before leaving forever.
They had never quite talked about that time.
It was almost funny to consider that those months of her life, between the Lieberts murder and her recovering from the shock, were the darkest ones of her life at the present moment, with no information nor witness left... except for him.
"How long did you stay here?" It was preferable to start with that simple question.
There it was, in his eyes, that wild brightness that told her how bad of a choice the question had been.
"Four months." It was an answer he pondered before delivering.
"I thought you had left... much earlier..." Expecting instead a matter of weeks. She was now taking care of her jackets and coats, most of them staying there as the summer was approaching. Another excuse to avoid his eyes.
"I needed some time to adjust to the new situation and decide what to do next, also to erase the results of the surgery." A pause. "And I wanted to say proper farewell to you."
The smirk was hers this time, offering Johann a glimpse as she faced him for a moment, before lowering her face again towards the chore.
"Farewell? What would you have said?" Her voice focused on the curiosity, also present.
"I would have promised that you would be safe, that you would never see me again. You would have a completely normal and predictable life here." She was surprised by the returning nostalgia in his voice, a part of him that seemed to wish it would have happened that way. Or his acting was that polished.
"And would you have kept that promise?" She finally stopped, to focus all her attention on him.
"Yes." No mockery to be found. "I would have been considered a stalker, to know about your whereabouts, but I would have never interacted with you again, in any way." He suddenly smiled. "Unless I suspected that only by killing me you would be happy. Then I would have granted you that wish."
Then his eyes forgot she existed at all to focus once more on that room, to finally get lost on her cushion and the phantom girl still sleeping in that room, a commemoration of what was forever lost. For an instant she could also see her, mourn her.
"I used to sit here", he lowered his voice, to let her past self sleep, "and minutes, hours passed by as I watched you sleep. The house remained dark and quiet like in a dream." His expression changed suddenly, becoming the perfect representation of fondness, and mourn. "I wondered what your dreams were about, if they portrayed castles and monsters or black rooms and bullets instead. I wanted to know, like my life depended on it... like it mattered." A pause. "Each night a little bit darker. But it could be, that wasn't your fault after all, and it was me the one that was already rotting. No tears could change the course of it all."
In other circumstances she would have remained quiet and listen, knowing that it was one of those precious moments in which Johann was feeling both talkative and emotional, enough for him to let a torrent of thoughts leave his mouth with no need of her push. Yet it wasn't one of those moments, understanding too late her mistake.
"What the hell are you talking about?"
And he laughed.
"Nothing in particular." A pause. "I've spent most of my life blaming your forgetfulness for all that I've become, knowing deep down the root was a different one." Letting out a sight, he finally stood up, not without a final glance to that bed. "You truly killed me that night, sister, when you shot me. Whether it was the action itself or the physical damage the bullet caused in my brain, I don't know." He shrugged. "That's why you never needed any training with guns, your first bullet had already achieved its goal, all you had to do is nothing." Another pause, because his words weren't damaging enough.
And she drowned, in that majestic ability of his to destroy with words that he had mercilessly polished to perfection. He rapidly became a blur as her eyes were inundated by those tears that suffocated her.
Giving her no time to respond he left the room.