I knew the night was just getting started.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
My life became a routine of sorts.
Mason left for work fairly early, but he never missed leaving roses on the nightstand for me. He called the cell phone he gave me whenever he could, sending vulgar messages back to back.
We clicked. He made my life easy. He didn’t lock me inside anymore; I spent a large part of my day outside with the dogs.
I wish I could say everything was perfect, but that was far from the case. He was hiding something from me, and it became clearer every day. I kept my mouth shut, waiting for him to slip up, but he never did. He was always so careful; it was like everything he did was planned beforehand.
Sometimes, I worried that whatever was between us was nothing but an act. He still used sex to thwart my questions. My mother seemed to have disappeared as well. Every time I called the number I had for her, I was sent to voicemail.
What if they were working together?
No, I couldn’t go there. I didn’t know how I would deal with something like that.
A throat cleared from behind me, pulling me back to reality.
Turning around, I saw the man who always ran the lawn mower standing with his hat in his hands.
He gave me a friendly smile and a little wave.
“Um, can I help you?” It was the only thing I could think to ask.
“I’m Leroy, but you can call me Roy.”
“Okay, Roy. Did you need something?”
He took a small step forward. I stood from my lawn chair and took one back.
Don’t trust him.
“Hey, I’m not here to hurt you.” He held one hand out and continued to approach me, as if I were a wild animal that would bolt at any given moment.
“I just started working here four months ago. No one lived here then. Now. all a sudden, you’re here all the time.
“A guy said that if I had any questions I could find him in his office.” He continued slowly walking towards me. “Something isn’t right in this town. I saw you in the window the other day and knew I had to stick around. When did you get here? Why haven’t I seen you until now?”
I watched his eyes begin to drift over me; I was in a pale blue sundress. I knew he would see every cut and every hand-shaped bruise—then, he would jump to conclusions.
“Leroy, I don’t know what you think is going on. Nothing bad is happening to me here.”
“Were you with the redhead? Are there more of ya? I tried to help her, but I don’t know if she got away. The police wouldn’t listen.” He ignored me completely, starting to glance around with a timid paranoia.
I didn’t know anything about a redhead, but I was aware this man knew more than he was supposed to. The thought of him bringing harm to Mason sent my heart into a tailspin. I had to get him away from here.
“You need to leave. Right now.” I could feel myself beginning to panic.
“Fuck, lady. I’m not leaving you here! You don’t know what kind of crazy motherfucker you’re dealing with.”
“He’s not crazy! You’re the one who showed up.” I screamed at him when he lunged forward and picked me up. “What the hell are you doing?”
I was not going to be manhandled by the damn gardener. Unable to break free, I used my mouth, biting down on his shoulder.
“Ow, shit!” He unceremoniously dropped me onto the blacktop, glaring down at me as I crab-walked backward.
The warm sunlight beamed down on a little green pickup sat off in the corner of the U-shaped driveway, and he headed for it.
“Just go!” I yelled at him, wondering why he wouldn’t listen to me. Today of all days, I’d left the dogs inside. I could hear them going ballistic at the front door.
Roy charged forward, lifting me up again—similar to the way Mason had—and tossed me in the back end of his pickup. The air rushed out of my lungs. I sat up, just to fall back on my side again, rolling as he started the truck and peeled down the driveway.
The wind whipped at my face, bringing stinging tears to my eyes. I watched Mason’s house grow smaller the further Leroy got.
He sped around corners as if he forgot I was in the back.
I held onto a black bar to stop myself from flying all over the place like a kite in the wind. All that was going through my head was that I couldn’t leave Mason.
Holding onto the side of the truck, I waited until he slowed, going around a bend, and I jumped out.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
I cried out, biting my lip to muffle the sound as I landed on the ground.
Leroy screeched to a halt further up ahead. His brake lights went out, and he shot off again, his engine fading as he put distance between us.
Forcing myself to roll onto my stomach, I gritted my teeth as pain shot through the right side of my body. Pushing up onto my knees, I saw blood on my arm and leg from where skin had torn away.
I didn’t think anything was broken, but everything fucking hurt. The cherry on top of this fucking day was that there was no way to tell where I was. All the trees looked the same, as they did in Mason’s backyard. He lived in the middle of nowhere.
Going back the way I just came was the only thing I could think to do. Picking myself up off the ground, I gripped my arm in a self-made sling and began hobbling back up the street.
The sun began to fall from the sky, and I still had no idea where I was.
A light rain and bits of hail added to my misery. I didn’t want to ask how my day could get any worse, but seriously. How could it?
My bare feet were numb, bloodied, and dirty. The dress I had on was torn and doing very little to protect me from the elements.
With my arms wrapped around my waist, I continued walking back the way I thought Mason’s house was, but as the rain started to come down harder, I veered off the road, trying to find some kind of shelter beneath the tall trees. Twigs snapped and prodded at me; mud sank between my toes.
I’m not sure how long I long I walked before I got a reprieve. There was a large log cabin style home sitting by itself, down a steep hill.
There weren't any cars in the driveway, and all the lights were off.
Whether someone lived there or not, I needed a break.
Limping up to the home, I hauled myself up the back stairs and peered through the square block window. After knocking twice and not getting a response or hearing a dog, I tried the door handle. It opened with a tiny click, surprising me.
Staring in, I weighed my options. This was a stranger’s home; they could get hostile if they came back and found me inside. My only other option, though, was to stay in the hail and keep wandering the dark woods.
If nothing else, they had to have a telephone or something I could use. Walking inside the warm house, I pushed the door shut behind me and looked down at the hardwood floor. It was clean; my feet were filthy.
I was in a cozy dining room; a kitchen was to my immediate right. On the opposite end of the room was a long, fancy side table with pictures on it. Everything else was momentarily forgotten as I walked towards them.
I had perfect eyesight, so I knew I wasn’t seeing things. There was a picture of my father in a silver frame.
Snatching the photo up, I turned it over and studied it. Looking at all the frames on the table, I fumbled to put it down, focusing on the larger one in the back.
Live. Laugh. Love was engraved into the glass. It was a wedding photograph. I shook my head, not understanding why. Not wanting to believe what was right in front of me. Mason was the groom, and the bride was my sister.
We tell her nothing. We both know she can’t handle the truth.
They weren’t talking about me; they had been talking about Annie.
No one lived here four months ago.
Is this where he spent all his time?
I squeezed the frame so tight, the glass cracked—similar to the feeling in my chest. I could have stood there for hours, dripping dirty water onto the immacul
ate floor.
A car pulling up the gravel drive had me springing into action. I ran out the back door and didn’t stop. Rain mixed with tears, and my pain only radiated from my head.
Was it all a sick game? Was I nothing more than a lump sum for him, too?
With so many questions and nowhere to go, I didn’t stop running until I didn’t have a choice.
I ran into the path of a blue sedan and everything turned black.
PART TWO
Chapter Thirty
If someone asked me who I was, I would tell them I didn’t know. I’d tell them my name is Katie, but I no longer felt like myself.
They would give me a look of uncertainty and assume I was crazy. They wouldn’t be too far off the marker. I was either losing my mind, or I never quite had it.
The white noise inside my head was in competition with the voices.
One side kept whispering and the other kept twisting the words into indecipherable psycho-babble.
Up until approximately five minutes ago, I was worried I’d never be able to stop it. Then he walked in, and made everything go quiet.
When I first glanced up at him, I thought he was Mason. Their resemblance was almost eerie. I’d never given much thought about where Mason came from, only that he had to have had a traumatic childhood. No normal little boy grew up and decided to take people apart as a hobby.
The man who came into the room, and was now sitting across the table from me, changed everything. He took my theories and shredded them into a million little pieces. His familiar green eyes were probing, splitting open my shell and studying my interior.
The left side of his mouth had a slight tilt, a skewed smirk that said he knew everything I didn’t. He knew how I’d ended up in this barren, sterile room with only a pot to piss in. All I could recall was a blue sedan that sped up when I ran out in front of it, instead of slowing down. He wasn’t giving me any answers in regards to that, though.
“You remind me of someone who’s dead,” were the first words out of his mouth, accompanied by a chilling smile.
Who? I wondered, but I didn’t ask.
“You know, when you first got here, I was going to kill you,” he explained, still staring at me in a studious way.
“So why didn’t you?” I rasped out through dry, brittle lips.
“Well…” He tapped a finger on his chin and leaned forward, resting his elbows on the surface of the table.
“I find that when someone is eager to die, making them live is much more satisfying than giving them what they want.”
I kept my mouth shut, pressing my cracked lips into a firm white line. It was becoming even clearer to me where Mason got his unusual disposition.
A few long minutes of silences rolled by and we did nothing but eye one another, judging and assessing, forming our own opinions. He had a black wedding band on his ring finger, which admittedly surprised me.
Honestly, who would marry someone like him?
You would, a little voice in my head swiftly responded.
When he smiled again, dimples indented his cheeks and my heart panged. He looked so much like him.
“My wife is no longer breathing.” He held his hand up and wiggled the finger I’d just been staring at. “You remind me of her. Not as pretty, though,” he was quick to point out, as if I cared what he thought of me.
“The pretty girls with the broken minds,” he murmured beneath his breath.
What?
“Where is Mason?” I blurted out. I was over this whole interaction. Why was he even in this room with me? And where exactly was this room, anyway? It wasn’t in Mason’s home—that I knew for certain.
“I was wondering when you would ask about him. He’s around. I wanted to have a little talk with you first.” He stood up and leaned across the table, coming so close, we were almost nose-to-nose.
I swallowed, resisting the urge to move away.
“My son needs you and you need him, despite whatever you’re probably telling yourself. But I refuse to let history repeat itself. If you become a problem, I have many methods of solving that. Do you understand?”
I didn’t understand anything that was going on, but the clear threat he’d just administered had me nodding regardless.
“Good.” A chipper smile graced his face once again. He stood up, straightened his already perfectly smooth jacket, and turned away. He left the room and let the solid steel door slam shut behind him, leaving me all alone again.
Chapter Thirty-One
I watched from a surveillance feed as my father and Katie had a half-hour staring competition. Surprisingly, it was a draw.
Since then, she had been in the room alone for six hours. She had yet to touch the bottle of water, defecate in the bucket, or open the tin lunch box that had been left for her.
I wanted to go to her, but I wasn’t in the right frame of mind just yet.
I already knew how our reunion was going to go: she’d ask about her father, who was as good as dead.
Then, she’d ask about her mother, whose skull I was currently degloving, and then—or maybe first—she’d ask about Annie, her sister, who was down the hall from her. She didn’t do much other than stare at me with brown eyes full of hatred.
This was okay, though. I could tweak this situation to my benefit. Katie was right on the cusp of embracing her dark side, but the small bit of reluctance she had needed to be eradicated. There was no room for the ifs or maybes that could potentially plague her mind and steal her from me.
I looked down at my bloody hands, and then I took a quick glance around the room. Four dead bodies were piled in the corner, and they were all useless.
Four perfect canvases ruined by my lack of ambition.
All of them had careless lacerations and sloppy amputations. Mismatched ears and fingers lay on the dirty floor. A nipple or two may have been among them.
It was hard to concentrate on anything besides my Katie. The obsession I had with her was spiraling into something I couldn’t understand.
She was undoubtedly beautiful, but what I felt for her went far beyond the physical. She made me want to lose all the control I worked so hard to maintain. Her naïve innocence excited my demons. Her will to kill and understand my artwork made my cock stone solid.
I didn’t know for certain how the next few days would play out between us, but I knew I would never let her get away again, whether it was her fault or not.
She was the air I breathed. No matter what I was doing, thoughts of her consumed me. My reasons for taking her meant almost nothing now.
Almost.
Another glance at the screen had my self-reservations dissolving. I pushed her mother’s body away from me and tossed the scalpel to the floor beside it.
I was tired of waiting.
Chapter Thirty-Two
The fluorescent light was blazing, casting a bold white hue around the room. A steady draft of chilled air flowed from the vent in the ceiling, and not a single sound other than my breathing could be heard.
Where was Mason? Where did his father go? How long had I been in here?
Maybe they left you in here to die.
No, no. That couldn’t be right. Why would they do that?
I stood from the uncomfortable metal chair and began to pace. Perspiration gathered on my palms; I wiped them on my dress.
My sore feet were wrapped nice and snug in gauze, but they still protested with every step I took.
There was only one door, and no windows The only furnishings in the room were the table, chairs, and the twin-sized mattress I had originally woken up on. Everything was white: the walls, the tiled floor, the light, the mattress, and the table. I loathed it.
Where is Mason?
Almost as if I’d summoned him, the door swung open and he walked into the room. He pushed it shut and then turned towards me, making no attempt to approach. As always, a single look in his green eyes battered my senses and sent my emotions into a tailspin.
W
hat was I supposed to do? I wish someone would have explained the fundamentals of relationships to me—if that’s what we had. Did I yell at him? Give the silent treatment? Remain level-headed and try to discuss what had transpired rationally?
I was angry with him for what he’d hidden from me and what it ultimately meant, but I also wanted to hold him and never let go.
It was messed up and wrong, but I had given up on trying to make sense out of what was between us. I felt as if I hadn’t seen him in ages, when in all actuality, it had only been…well, I wasn’t entirely sure. I didn’t know how long I’d been in this room.
He looked fantastic; I could smell the Irish Springs body wash he used from where I stood.
His dark locks were perfectly styled—not a hair out of place. I, on the other hand, knew I looked like a swamp monster, standing there in my muddied dress with dirt beneath my nails and tangles in my hair.
I rolled my lips and thought about what I wanted to say. I’d been alone, giving me nothing to do but think. The piercing silence had broken apart the dam I was trying to keep my thoughts behind.
“Are you ready to come back home?” he asked, beating me to the punch.
I stared at him and scoffed. “Is that really all you have to say for yourself?”
He cocked his head and swept his eyes over me from head to toe before responding. “You look so beautiful, bruised.”
I gaped at him.
After everything that had happened and all I had discovered, all he could say was that? No apology? No explanation?
“Are you really going to stand there and pretend nothing happened?”
“What do you want me to say, Katie?” He began making his way towards me, sounding exceptionally calm.
“You could start by telling me about Annie and how you know my parents.”
As he got closer, I was forced to tilt my head up so I could maintain eye contact. His hard stare was nothing less than intimidating. I gritted my teeth and balled my fists in an effort to stop from shaking.
Obscene: A Dahlia Saga Novel Page 9