by V. F. Mason
And all those vile acts were performed by the man I love.
How could I have fallen for someone like that? How didn’t I see his darkness covered in the boy-next-door image?
Wiping away the tears, I continue running toward the gate, ignoring the stinging pain in my legs, but then I stumble forward when one of my heels breaks.
Not waiting even a second, I toe them off franticly while hearing heavy footsteps in the distance, but I don’t turn around. I can’t.
If I give him just one minute of advantage, he will catch me.
The iron bars are almost here; I just need to fly through them and disappear into the night. And I almost reach them, when strong arms wrap around my waist and lift me up as I cry out. “No!” I kick the air as he spins me toward the mansion, not giving an inch. I slap his hands, shouting, “Let go of me, let go of me!” But he doesn’t listen. Instead, he carries me back to the house, and that’s when I see the gardener who gives us a bored onceover before resuming his pruning. “Please help me.”
“Quiet,” Eugene orders, but I try to kick him, using all my strength to get out of his hold, but he doesn’t let me.
He curses under his breath and then flips me so swiftly I have barely a moment to blink and realize he’s placed me over his shoulder, his firm grasp on my middle while jogging to the house.
I hit and bite his back, hoping the discomfort will allow me to escape him, but it’s useless. “Monster!” I scream.
That’s when he slips back inside and walks toward what I assume is the living room, based on the spaciousness and couches. He drops me to the floor where I fall with a loud thud, hitting my knees painfully. “Enough with the hysterics, Lila.” His voice is so calm, so well put together, like I lost my shit over the weather and not the fact that just minutes ago he killed a man in his basement!
Breathing heavily, I get up, wincing from the pain, but keep my chin high while facing him. If my time with the horrible men taught me anything, it was that you never show weakness to the likes of them. “You are a monster. A killer.”
His jaw tics, but it’s the only indication of his emotions, while his expression stays completely blank. “A serial killer,” he corrects me, and for a second, I forget how to breathe, when suddenly all the dots start to connect in my head.
His baggy clothes, meek personality, his absence on the day before a new killing has been discovered.
Scars on his back and hands, which he would never explain.
His fascination with crime shows and reading newspapers about recent events in the cities. “You’re the Hudson River Hunter,” I whisper, covering my mouth with my palm, shaking my head in disbelief. “You killed all those men.” And who knows who else?
“That’s me,” he replies once again, calm as fucking still water in the sunlight.
Before I can even think about it, I jump at him, slapping him hard in the face and then kicking him with all my might for all the dreams of mine he has destroyed, for all his deceptions and cruel ways. “I hate you. I hate you! How could you have done this to me?” I deliver blow after blow, waiting for him to retaliate, but he doesn’t.
Instead, he locks my wrists in his hands and raises them, stilling my movements, and we gaze at one another, the sound of our breaths filling the space. “Calm down and listen to me,” he orders, but I have nothing but bitter laughter for him, which echoes through the empty house, underscoring the finality of our situation.
Listen to him? “You lost any right to ask me anything.”
“Lila,” he warns, as I try to twist away from him, but he shakes me harshly to the point of my teeth snapping against each other. Then he brings me closer, glaring in my face. “Either calm down, or I’ll have to calm you down. You don’t want me in a bad mood, woman.”
“You mean in your real mood?” I laugh again, barely holding back spitting in his face. “Go fuck yourself with your orders, Eugene. You are a killer.” I kick him in the knees, and he groans a little, but then he squeezes his hands around my neck and instantly blocks the oxygen from my lungs.
I wrap my hands around his, while he presses and presses on the side of my neck so much that numbness slowly overtakes me, and everything goes black as I fall into his arms.
* * *
Eugene
What happens when good girls discover truths they can’t live with?
I’m about to find out.
Willing or not though, Lila is mine, and nothing will change that.
* * *
Lila
Something hits my face, and I shift from side to side trying to avoid it, but no matter what I do, the wetness follows me.
What in the world?
My eyelids flutter open, and I see Eugene splashing water from a glass onto me, and I mutter, “What in the hell are you doing? Stop!” I still, and instantly whimper, “Ouch.” I touch the back of my head, which seems to be throbbing like a bitch, and wonder what happened last night.
Did we party too much with Emilio and Sorcha, and I’m facing a hangover now?
But then my blurry vision adjusts, and I gape at my surroundings as memories slam into me hard.
I’m in a cage or cell, surrounded by metal bars, inside a basement. The rust-stained concrete underneath me has seen better days, but surprisingly it seems clean enough.
Outside the cage is a surgical table, some kind of electric chair, a plain table, and walls full of different weapons and an entire section in the corner with cleaning supplies.
In fact, the smell of chlorine bleach is really strong, and everything shines so much, as if he just cleaned it. He probably did after his last victim.
The bile rises in my throat from the reminder of that victim, so I focus my attention on the inside of the cage, purposely keeping my gaze away from the single chair a few feet away from me and the man who stands nearby, watching me like a hawk.
There is nothing else but the mattress I’m on and a blanket laying on it, while nearby a sink drips water drop by drop, probably intended to drive the occupants of the cell insane. I see a long, silver chain manacled tightly around my left ankle, which will probably let me walk freely but never run away. Even the slightest of movements chafes my skin as it rubs a little under the round cuff.
“Glad to see you awake.” He breaks the silence, and I finally look at him in all his handsome glory and wonder how one event in our life changed everything.
Just this morning, he was the love of my life, a man who taught me to trust again. A man I wanted to spend the rest of my life with.
But a few hours ago, he became a vicious serial killer I need to stay away from, as he stirred nothing but revulsion in me.
He puts a few bottles of water next to me and then some candy bars, expecting me to… what? Happily munch on them in the room where he freaking kills people?
“You’re a monster,” I whisper, plastering my back in the corner while the chain thumps loudly over the concrete with each movement.
Eugene drops onto the chair, the knife in is hand going back and forth as if he can’t decide what to do with me now that I know the truth. “You make judgments without hearing my story first?”
My hollow laughter ricochets off the walls. “Story? However you want to spin it, you are a killer. A serial killer who hunts his victims!” I shout, but he doesn’t even flinch, just exhales and continues to flick the knife. “You killed all those men in the news.”
“I did,” he admits breezily and then swirls his index finger as if pointing at the whole place. “Many more actually. Brought them here, tortured them, and then enjoyed their screams of pain.” He throws a blindfold to me while fear rushes through my entire system just imagining his actions.
How could I have not seen the madness in the corner of his eyes? Or his cruelty or complete lack of emotion? He played the role of the geeky, awkward man so well I never once doubted his sincerity. “You are sick.” My throat hurts so much, as if someone is scratching it from the inside, but I won’t sip the wat
er he brought me. Accepting anything from him would mean submitting to his desire, and I won’t do that.
I once submitted to men, hoping they would let me go, but instead, they brought me pain time and time again. I’d rather die with dignity than beg. “So, marrying me was a cover-up for your dark desires?” No one will look for a serial killer in a stable relationship and with kids, I imagine.
I ignore the pang in my heart, pushing away all good emotions, and focus only on the rage and anger that make me want to slap the shit out of him.
He chuckles, finding it amusing, even though something flashes in his eyes. “I don’t need a cover-up. You are mine, Lila. Have been since the beginning.”
What? “I don’t understand.” The flicking of the knife finally stops, and the chair falls on the ground when he leans forward. His mouth is tight while fury crosses his face like a shadow. He scans me from head to toe in such a possessive way it causes me to shiver.
If before I loved being his, now I despise it. Though my betraying heart still hasn’t gotten the memo and reacts to his presence, proving to me it’s possible to hate and love a man at the same time.
Sadly, love doesn’t vanish simply because the person you love is someone evil. I meet him head-on, lifting my chin and not shying away from his watchful stare.
“I never wanted to be Eugene Harrison, but life didn’t give me the option of an out. But as a serial killer, I’ve found my calling. And I would have been completely content if it weren’t for you.”
“Don’t use me as an excuse for all this,” I whisper, motioning behind him, but he shakes his head.
“No, I kill because I want to. Because they deserve it. And I don’t excuse it. But me being here? It’s for you.”
“Are you insane?” How can he even say something like that? “I’ve known you for what… two years now? And we’ve been together only for a few months.”
“You became mine from the first glance.” We both breathe heavily when he kneels in front of me and catches my chin between his fingers, even though I try to jerk away from him. He painfully digs them into my skin while his other hand holds the back of my head, not allowing me to pull away from him. He drills his stare into me. “It was supposed to be just a business meeting with your father. Grandma wanted to invest in his company, although I knew it was a bad idea. But then you waltzed in.” I vaguely remember what he’s talking about, playing the scene like a colorful movie.
Laughing loudly, I nudge Sorcha’s elbow as we enter the hallway, barely holding the big-ass freaking canvas in our hands. Professor Megan asked us to draw something from home, and we picked my place, because Sorcha has no interesting views at her house.
I’m about to ask Matilda for coffee, when Sorcha places her finger on her lips and points at the living room, and I sigh in resignation.
Is there another investor in front of whom I need to portray the perfect image?
We share a look, and she mouths to me, I’m going to wait for you in your room.
Nodding, I wipe my sweaty hands on my jeans and plaster a fake smile on my lips as I step into the living room, where two people sit.
And old lady wearing an expensive outfit sips coffee and huffs in distaste while she watches me. Another one, a younger guy, leans on the window while he fixes his gaze on my mother’s garden.
The clearing of my throat snags his attention, and when he turns around to face me, I see a very geeky guy.
And although I put him in a box of the safe guys who probably get bullied a lot, I have never forgotten the first impression from his stare… as if the whole room belonged to him, especially me.
But those kinds of thoughts are stupid, right?
In future meetings, he never gives me such a stare again.
“So beautiful, so innocent. I never thought I could want someone from one glance alone,” Eugene says, rubbing his thumb over my chapped lips, and his gaze heats like he’s in a trance. “I hated your family. I hated everything about the society you mingled in, but I stayed. For you. Even though I should have gone away and never dragged you into my world.” His hold on me tightens, while he mashes our chests together. “You are my everything, Lila,” he whispers right before he captures my mouth in a kiss, his finger pressing on my chin. I gasp from the contact, allowing him to slide his tongue inside to play with mine, as he dominates my mouth and creates a web around me.
I slap his chest, trying to move him from me, but he doesn’t. Instead, his hand travels lower and he clasps it around my hands, blocking them while he continues to give me kiss after kiss, breaking it only for air. And for a moment in time, resistance leaves me.
My body recognizes this man as someone who brought it pleasure, and instantly I want to give him free rein. I circle my arms around his neck, answering the kiss while heat spreads through me, reminding me that no matter how much I want to run from him, he has become part of me.
But then the sound of the saw and screams of his victim slam back into me, and I find the strength to push him away. Since he doesn’t expect that, he falls back on his ass while we both pant heavily.
I wipe my mouth, saying with coldness lacing my tone, “Don’t touch me anymore. You lost the right.”
“You answered my kiss.” He throws that right back in my face, and I want to scream in frustration but hold it back.
Instead, I raise my chin and once again coldly reply, “I had no choice. Do you really think after all this I can be yours? I was in love with Eugene. Not Jake Harrison.” His eyes widen, and I laugh bitterly. “So, my guess is correct. You call yourself Jake in this alter ego.” All this time, I wondered why he never used his first name, even in his professional dealings… only to discover he keeps it safe for his serial killer identity.
Our psychology professor told us once that those kinds of people create an entirely different person and personality in their head, which allows them to have a separate life.
Looks like Eugene didn’t need to create one; he just used his first freaking name!
He slowly stands up, dusts his knees, and nods like he’s agreeing with me. “You don’t want to listen to reason, then maybe you need to stay alone,” he says and steps outside the cage, shutting the door loudly and locking it.
The thick chain feels almost impossibly heavy on my ankle as I dash toward him and grab the bars. “Let me go, Eugene.”
“When you stop acting like a child and are ready to listen, then you can go,” he informs me, leaning so close that our noses almost touch through the bars. “This hysterical woman is not my Lila.”
“I will never accept that. People will search for me. You don’t think you can get away with killing me without people connecting it to you?”
He jerks back as if I’d hit him and then shakes his head in disbelief. “You didn’t understand a single word I said to you, did you?” With those final words, he walks away and leaves me alone in the cold basement, where all his evilness is displayed in colorful glory.
And while I’m mad and try to break free, hurting my skin as I attempt to dig at the ground, to do something, his haunted eyes don’t go away from my mind.
Or the pain in my heart that suggests I said something I shouldn’t have.
Exhausted with all my failed attempts, I fall onto the mattress and cry for all my shattered dreams and the pain that seems to become a permanent fixture in my life.
* * *
Eugene
I bang my head on the basement door while listening to her cries, each one of them feeling like a razor over my chest. My hands fist, but I keep myself glued to the spot, because my presence won’t soothe her.
My beautiful girl can’t handle my truth. Because for her, I’ll forever be associated with the men who hurt her. Like I said to Emilio, darkness for most people means bad. It doesn’t matter what you are doing with it; killing someone in cold blood puts you into the monster category one way or another.
I never wanted to harm her, only cherish her. Surround her with protectio
n so she wouldn’t be afraid of this world.
But what do you do with the woman you love, when the only thing left in this world that she is afraid of… is you?
At first, I wanted to hunt her and make her surrender to my wishes, but her fragile state after the kidnapping changed my mind. Especially after we started dating.
Abducting her was never one of my fantasies; she doesn’t belong in my darkness. She is my one bright thing that makes all this and the past bearable, giving me hope for a future.
But I can never give up my darkness, because it’s part of me, just like she is.
So, the ball is firmly in Lila’s court. She will either accept my darkness and our love, or… push me away and kill both of us in the process.
There is no middle ground for us in this.
Chapter Ten
Eugene, 7 years old
* * *
The man puffs out smoke from his cigarette and crooks his finger at me. “Come here, kiddo.”
I stay in place, where Mom was until he placed her in the bag and took her somewhere. No matter how much I asked, he wouldn’t answer me where.
“You need to eat, kid.” He picks up a plate with hot dogs from the table, puts it on the floor, and kicks it in my direction. The hot dog slides a little to the side, a bit of it dragging in the dirt.
I turn my head to the wall and shake my head, too afraid to speak up, because the bad man gets angry easily. “I said fucking eat!” he screeches, but since I continue to numbly stare at the wall, he gets up quickly, grabbing me by the neck before I can escape in a different direction. “He will pay me good money for you, Jake. So eat the fucking food.” He picks up the hot dog and tries to push it into my mouth, but I keep it closed, not wanting the dirty thing. “Piece of shit,” he mutters and drops me back on the floor, kicking me in the stomach several times, and I roll into a ball, to protect myself as much as possible. “Stubborn like your father. He thought he could fool me too, but look what I’ve done to him?” He kicks me one last time before going back to his chair and stomping on the hot dog on the way. “If you get hungry, you’ll have to eat that.” I ignore the growling of my stomach and groan quietly from the pain, but I manage to sit back quietly and face the wall again. I close my eyes and rest my cheek against it, remembering Mommy’s lullabies that she used to sing.