It’s uncomfortable for me to sit propped up against the kitchen sink, but, apparently, I had placed my telephone in the one drawer next to it that I never look in, and that’s as far as the line will go. I don’t have a cordless phone because phones are useless to me, so I make do with what I have.
“Kalispell Evergreen Urgent Care, this is Abigail speaking,” a bright voice finally greets me.
“Hello, yes. Abigail? This is Guy Burress,” I say, my voice slightly cracking. I clear my throat in annoyance and try again. “I was there a few days ago for some burns?”
“Oh, yes,” she finally says after a few moments of silence. “How are you?”
“I’m not doing too well actually,” I lie. “Is there anyway you can come to my home? I’m in too much pain to walk or drive as it is, and I really think I need some medical attention.”
“Why not just call an ambulance?” she suggests.
Good question.
“I would rather have someone who’s familiar with what’s happening to re-examine me,” I reply, thinking quickly.
“I’m really not supposed to,” she replies hesitantly.
“Much like you weren’t supposed to write me a prescription?” I say evenly. “I’ve checked, Abigail. Even with the doctor not being at the facility, you weren’t supposed to do it. I had a hell of a time getting that medication filled and I think you owe it to me to come over. We wouldn’t want that little indiscretion to reach the medical board, now would we?”
I don’t take pride in issuing idle threats, but sometimes they’re warranted. I’m not a blackmailer by any means, I just know when to use simple words to get what I want.
And it works.
“I’ll be over by seven,” she relents quietly, as if coming to my home was so bad. As if she were better than coming to me when I’ve already gone to her so many times.
“I’ll be waiting,” I say before I disconnect the call.
I know this seems like I’m being overbearing, but you have to understand that I want nothing more than perfection for the one that deserves it the most.
I also know that today is the day that I must spill blood in my home. With as much as I detest the thought of it, it’s what needs to be done. And for just this once, I’ll allow it to happen.
I know that somewhere, in one of these locked rooms, there’s a cage. Large enough for a person to fit in, but it’s collapsible because I needed to be able to fit it into a smaller space until it was time to use it.
Now is that time.
Or it will be at seven o’clock when Abigail arrives.
I walk through my home opening and closing the doors trying to remember where I put the fucking thing when it dawns on me. Turning on my heel, I walk back toward the living room and pull open the closet door.
There it is.
Brand new and unused.
I had hoped to use it for her, but I don’t have time anymore. In just three hours, Abigail will arrive and we will begin our descent into an abyss filled with pain, acts of depravity, and a desperation for life that one never feels until they’re at the whims of my pleasure.
Verona felt that in her final moments, as did Laura, and that’s all I’ve had to savor until now. Salve. Don’t forget the salve.
“Yes, thank you.”
I stop what I’m doing for a moment and wonder if I honestly answered myself out loud, before I shrug and pull the cage to a standing position. It’s quite easy to assemble as it’s already done; just a few firm tugs here and there, one hard shake to make sure it’s standing, and it’s ready for use.
I don’t know who’ll go into it first, but I do know that we’ll both have a moment inside. Abigail’s time inside of it will be longer than mine, and that’s the price she’ll pay for being in my company.
She’ll learn to enjoy it for as long as I deem to keep her in the cage. She’ll see that it’s a special thing that I’m doing for her and she’ll be so happy that she came. The unfortunate thing? I can’t let her leave; she knows my name, where I live and, if she’s smart enough, she’ll most likely tell someone where she’s going, but time will tell.
I guess it’s time for a few confessions.
Montana isn’t my actual home; I followed my prize here.
I’ve been to almost every state trying to find her since that one time I ran into her in the biggest city I had ever been in.
My cabinet comes with me wherever I travel, because it’s a trophy case really.
I might stay here when it’s all said and done. As I’ve said, I enjoy watching the night sky over the void; the horizon is quite beautiful when you stop to actually look at it. Dusk or dawn.
There’s a knock on my door now, and it’s too soon for Abigail to be here. It’s my delivery, and I have to take them around the back of the house to bring in my items so that they don’t see my metal structure of perilous pleasure.
I won’t be long.
Chapter Twenty
Perfect timing.
The delivery crew is leaving now after some small talk. The two men were quite impressed that I was able to move all of those items by myself throughout the store. I gave them some tips on how I keep myself in the shape that I’m in.
I kept them there after the delivery because I just felt the need for some company I could talk to and not kill.
They were very kind.
John and Raymond they’re called, and they’ve been doing their job for five and ten years respectively. Before they leave, they tell me that if I need help with my “project” that they would be glad to return at no cost and assist me.
I assure them I can handle it just fine and shake their hands when they leave. The smile on my face is due to Abigail arriving. I see her driving up the driveway as John and Raymond are leaving and motion to her where she can park.
Has it already been three hours? It’s possible; as I’ve said, I have no need to know time frames. I’m just assuming that she’s arrived at the appointed time.
She gets out of her car—a small burgundy thing with a hatchback—and waits behind her still open door.
“Glad you could come,” I greet her warmly.
She nods, but stays behind her door. I know what she’s doing; I’m not a fool. If she perceives me as a threat, it would take nothing but a few swift movements to get back into the safety of her vehicle.
So, I’ll charm her.
“It’s nice to see you again, Abigail,” I say, stopping short of the front of the car and digging my hands into my pockets. “I apologize for how I behaved earlier on the phone, I just really wanted to see you again.”
I can see her muscles relaxing, and her jaw isn’t quite as tight as it was when she first stepped out of her car.
I decide to go in for the proverbial kill.
“I just couldn’t stop thinking about you. I know it may seem inappropriate, but the thought of possibly having your hands on me again has moved something inside of me that I can’t quite place. I hope this isn’t too forward, or a hazy dream of a man that’s yearning for that touch again, but I just had to let you know.”
Her eyes; they tell me that I’ve won her over. I do much better with words than I do with touch because I can control what I say. I can lather my words in a sultry, low tone and pretty much hypnotize whomever I speak to. My touch is not quite as controlled, but I’m sure you’ve gathered that.
“Doing some home repairs?” she asks, crossing her arms loosely over her chest. The basic human instinct to survive is starting to show in her standoffish pose and I smile kindly.
“I will be soon enough. It’s nice to have the supplies on hand ahead of time,” I reply with a chuckle.
Her eyes lower to the ground for a moment. She’s wondering if she should stay, and I understand, however, she’s come this far, and I won’t let her leave just yet.
“Would you like to come inside?” I ask brightly. “We can have a glass of wine and talk.”
I don’t wait for her answer; I turn away fro
m her and begin to walk toward the back of my home. My movements are similar to subliminal advertising in when we see something grandiose, without realizing it, our minds decide we want it, and the rest falls into place.
My smile widens when I hear her car door close, followed by the sound of her setting the alarm via her car remote, then the quick shuffle of her footsteps as she attempts to catch up to me.
I won’t leave her behind, but I don’t tell her that as I turn the corner of my home and wait patiently by the back door. I force my eyes to fill with a kindness I could never feel as I open the door and step back, letting her walk in.
“Ladies first,” I say in the most gentlemanly tone I can muster.
She steals a glance at me as she walks by, but her steps are no longer hesitant. She’s confident in the fact that I most likely want her here for sex.
But sex is never the point. It’s purely coincidental, if and when it happens, and I feel nothing each and every time. She’s here for a greater purpose. I follow her into the kitchen and silently crack my neck.
“Red or white wine?” I ask her.
It’s merely a distraction.
I won’t pour wine for someone who’s so easily ensnared in a net of simple words. I wait patiently for her to set her bag down on the kitchen counter and when she turns to look at me, I’m a mere few feet away from her.
Watching her.
Silent eyes telling her what’s to come.
And as she opens her mouth to reply, I step forward and grab her around the throat pressing down tightly until she goes limp in my arms.
Chapter Twenty-One
I don’t like to crouch for long periods of time, but I can’t help watching her. She’s been out for quite some time now, and hopefully she’ll be regaining consciousness soon.
It’s a beautiful thing to see. She’s in a fetal position, still in her blue scrubs, and her mouth is slightly open. Her breathing is somewhat ragged, and I reach through the small square holes in the cage, gripping the inside of it tightly, wondering how much pleasure I can derive from her.
How long will she last?
“Abigail,” I say softly. “It’s time to wake up now.”
She moans slightly at the sound of her name and her legs give a lazy kick, but her eyes are still closed.
“Abigail,” I repeat a little louder this time. “It’s time to play.”
She gasps and pushes herself up to a seated position so quickly that I almost lose my footing. It takes a lot to startle me, but that seems to have done the trick.
“Where am I?” she asks frantically.
Her eyes, the way her body is reacting, it reminds me of how one feels when they have a dream that they’re falling.
Quick, sudden, terrifying; a lot like what I would imagine the last time felt like for me. Of course, I haven’t slept well in years, so I can’t really recall.
I get to my feet and look down at her. There are tears in her eyes now, but I assume it’s due to her body jerking her awake rather than out of fear.
“I’ll give you a moment,” I say as I walk out of the living room.
I can only hope she doesn’t scream. I can’t take it when they scream; it hurts my head, but you know that already.
I walk into my room and lie down on the floor in front of my bed. There’s a large wooden trunk underneath it that I was saving for a special occasion—the special occasion—but I want to make sure I get this right. My hand grips firmly around the wrought iron handle, and I drag it out from beneath the bed.
I clear my throat as I lean down and grab both handles, then stand, and carry it back to where Abigail is patiently waiting for me. There’s a loud clanging sound. Almost as if something is slamming against metal, and when I enter the room I find the source of the noise.
It’s Abigail, furiously punching at the walls of the cage trying to get it to buckle under her frantic movements, to no avail.
“It’s no use, really. I’ve had that specially made, and while I had hoped to use it for another, I’ve decided that I need to practice. So, I must say that I appreciate that you came over so willingly. Whether you live or die is up to you; I usually take into consideration what others want from me and you’ll be no different. At least, not in that aspect,” I say as I set the trunk down on the carpet.
“Let me out of here!” she screams at me.
I roll my eyes and undo the latch that sits right of the middle. I hate that it’s not directly where it should be, but I won’t let that consume me right now.
“I’m going to have to ask you not to raise your voice, Abigail. It gives me a terrible headache if I have to endure the sound for too long, and I tend to lose a grip on what I’m doing. I wouldn’t want to hurt you in the wrong ways,” I say quietly as I pull back the long, black cloth that sits neatly on top of the treasures inside.
A soft sigh escapes from somewhere within me. Something reminiscent of a child’s innocent joy at being gifted a trove of wondrous toys.
There are a number of things in here that I can’t mention just yet, but know that I’m elated at the delicacy of items before me.
The first thing I remove is an iron collar. It’s held in place in the back with a bolt, and I know it’s meant for me by the sheer size of it.
Abigail let’s out another scream, and I wince slightly. I stand back to my full height and pull my shirt off, giving her a deadly glare, before I secure the collar around my neck. It’s strong, thick, and weighted; the coolness of the metal makes the hair on my arms stand up.
She watches as I reach back and push the bolt into place, eyes widening with frightened madness, and I can feel myself losing the will to stay a man. To stay the one thing that will separate me from a mindless killer and I embrace it.
It’s like a free-fall into the unknown, and each time is a precious gift because I never know if I’ll return.
I roll my head as much as the collar will allow, and then glance back down into the box. I see what I want to play with, what I know I’ll never use on her, and crouch down to retrieve it.
It, too, is heavy, made of wrought iron, and worth every penny I spent on this box. It cost me a great sum of money, but the pleasure I’ll derive from it will reimburse me in the accolades I’ll achieve with its contents.
“I just need one more thing,” I say to her in a soft, shallow voice not quite my own.
I walk toward the door that leads to my underground freezer. I move quickly because I don’t want her to lose herself in the hysteria that has descended upon her. I want her to be able to enjoy what I do to her, even if her pleasure is built from pain.
I pull the door open to the freezing room and quickly glance around, until my eyes fall onto what it is that I need. It’s still bloody, but I don’t care.
It’ll get bloodier still, and then I’ll dispose of it when the time comes. Or maybe I’ll keep it as a souvenir and lay it on the bottom shelf of my precious cabinet.
Only time will tell.
I walk out of the freezing room and run up the stairs back to my home. I may have closed the door, but I’m not sure. It doesn’t matter really, because the low temperatures will be there when I need them to be.
Now, with my bloodied sheers in one hand and a heavy fireplace poker in the other, I’m ready to begin.
Chapter Twenty-Two
I’m not proud of myself.
Not for how I begin our game. I poke at her through the small, square holes in the cage trying to make contact with her, but she continues to press herself against the wall of the structure furthest away from me.
I scoff and finally pull open the door to let myself in. I keep my body aimed toward her as I reach back and close it, locking it securely and almost dropping the set of items I’m now trying to balance in one hand.
“Are you going to fight me, Abigail? For your life?” I ask quietly as I shift the sheers back to my left hand.
“You had better kill me if that’s your intent, otherwise I’ll fucking kill you,�
�� she yells at me.
I smile.
I’ve never been threatened that way before. In all of the years I’ve been doing this, not once has anyone threatened to take my life if I failed to take theirs. I really didn’t have any intentions to end her, at least not this way, but the fight in her tells me that I’ll have no choice.
“And who knows that you’re here?” I ask as I slowly start to circle her. She moves to the center of the cage, ready for a fight. I’m so impressed with her. I appreciate her will to live, and I wonder if her resolve will prove to me that she’s worth setting free.
“Everyone! I told everyone in the office where I was going after work! They’re going to come looking for me!” she hollers loudly.
I let out a sigh and drop my head for a moment. Then I look back up at her and smile.
“Thank you.”
“Didn’t you hear me, you fucking freak? You’re going to get caught this time!”
“You’re lying. Would you like to know how I know? Because if you had told anyone that you were coming to my home, you would have said nothing. You would have denied the fact instead of spitting out a childish lie. This isn’t the first time I’ve done this, as I’m sure you can tell, and it won’t be the last. I have one more after you then the world will be allowed to proceed without me. But first ....”
I move quickly, but she does too. I swing the poker as violently as I can toward her, and I miss. She moves out of the way in the nick of time, and I almost lose my balance.
Focus.
I turn to face her. I won’t miss this time. I just have to wait for the opportune moment to strike.
And it presents itself when she runs toward me. I quickly raise and bring down the poker on the side of her head knocking her to the ground. She’s whimpering now; crying like a wounded animal, and it makes me feel godly for the smallest of moments.
I like to stand above my prey; to assert that I am the dominant one, and that they should be humbled to stand, kneel, bleed, beg, or cry before me.
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