by Shaun Hupp
“Go on, child. This is a safe place.” No one paid attention to them.
“I met a boy and fell in love. His name was Stuart. My mother said that he was no good and he wasn’t the one. I told her she was wrong. We started fighting all the time over him. I ended up leaving and moving across the country with him. I haven’t spoken to her since.
But she was right. The first couple of years were good and then, Stuart started drinking. When he had a rough day at work, he drank more. Soon, drinking wasn’t enough for him and he started taking out his aggression on me. I should have left after the first bruise, but he said he was sorry. He said it would never happen again.
But it did happen. Again. And again. And again. He stopped apologizing. He made no more excuses. Every time was my fault in some way. I wasn’t allowed to leave the house anymore and I couldn’t have any friends. He wanted to keep track of me and didn’t want anyone to see what he had done to me.
When I wasn’t doing housework, I was reading. I loved to read about women who conquered the monsters that attacked them.
I finally got up enough courage and left with what money I could get. I hitchhiked, took buses, walked, I didn’t care. I got away from him. I spent the last of my money to get on this subway, but it doesn’t matter. My mom lives in the city. I’m home. . . if she’ll take me back after all the horrible things I said to her.”
Emrys reached out and put his hand on her knee. “I’m sorry, child. Sometimes we make poor choices. Sometimes the ones we love don’t turn out to be who we thought they were. Sometimes blood truly is thicker than water.”
She didn’t respond. She just stared at the swirling white.
“You remind me of someone else. She found herself held hostage by a man, sort of like you were. She had to find a way to survive. She had to fight back. Let me tell you her story to pass the time. I’ll try to be as entertaining as your book.”
Last Words
“Wake up.”
“Wha. . .”
“Gwen, I need you to wake up.”
“Did I oversleep? What time is it?”
“No. I just need you to open your eyes.”
“But I’m so tired, baby. Can’t you just hit the-”
“Look, bitch. Open your fucking eyes!”
Gwen’s eyes shot open at the sound of a voice she did not recognize as her boyfriend’s. A stranger’s face filled her vision. Frustration showed in his unshaven face, but only for a second. Quick as it had come, his scowl disappeared, and the deep creases in his pale forehead began to relax beneath his shaggy brown hair. Those bright blue eyes remained focused. They seemed to emulate electricity from some unseen force. Gwen couldn’t quite place him, but he seemed familiar.
“Where’s. . .”
Before she could finish her question, she saw something out of the corner of her eye. Her head snapped to the left revealing her boyfriend, hands and legs each bound together with duct tape in front of him. He was not conscious. It was then that Gwen realized that she too was tied up in the same fashion. She tried to move. Struggling proved pointless; escape seemed doubtful.
Ignoring their captor for the time being, she checked out her surroundings. She remembered something about doing this from a police drama, she would watch every Thursday night when Hank was working. He thought it was silly and morbid, but it might be useful right now. She needed to look past that white, hairy face occupying her field of vision so she could give an accurate description to the police. She could almost hear the words coming out of her favorite actor’s mouth, “Watch. Observe. When he is done, you can help bring us back to the scene of the crime so we can get the clues needed to catch him.” Gwen just wasn’t sure if she and Hank would make it out of this room alive to tell anyone.
How could anybody live here? She thought.
In her groggy state, she could tell she was in a rundown apartment. By the looks of it, it had to be abandoned, but this man could have been living here. Candles covered the countertops and tables, but they were not lit. Light was shining through the cracks in the boards covering the windows. It was daytime. The ceiling consisted of spider webbing, cracks, and peeling paint, that might have been white at one time. There was a portable gas tank in the corner attached to some sort of camping stovetop.
As she tried to commit what she saw to memory, the stranger grabbed her by her long, blonde hair and forced her to face him. It hurt to look at those eyes. I know I’ve seen him before, she thought. But when? Where?
“While my living arrangements might not win me any awards for interior decorating, you can’t beat the neighborhood. You can scream all you want and nobody will hear you.”
To prove his point, the man screamed loud and long right in Gwen’s face. Spit flew as she flinched away from his gaping mouth and yellowed teeth. His tall and slender frame turned and ran over to the partially boarded window. He screamed out of it and banged on the walls sending dust everywhere.
His lungs finally failed him or the dust got to him. He let out a little cough and smiled. “See?”
Hank groaned. The man’s screaming had awakened him. He looked down at his restrained wrists and feet and, then, noticed Gwen trapped in the same manner. He was a strong, muscular guy that went to the gym three times a week, but he wasn’t going anywhere. Looking at their captor’s sinister grin, he finally realized what was going on. “Please, mister. Just let her go. You can do whatever you want with me but let her go.”
Hank’s pleas didn’t seem to do anything to help, but Gwen appreciated them. He always had such a giving nature. It was one of the many reasons why she loved him. Despite being ten years older than Gwen and his short, black hair was starting to turn grey, she’d never felt more alive. Having just finished college, and never having had a serious relationship before, she was surprised it had lasted for a year. In fact, just last night was their anniversary dinner. And after dinner, they. . .
“I know you,” she realized. “We got in your taxi. But how did you. . .“
“Guilty as charged. Everyone worries about hitchhiking. You never know if the person picking you up is some kind of psycho. Nobody ever questions getting into a taxi. Why not? A stranger is, after all, a stranger.
You guys thought it was such a great idea for a taxi driver to offer bottled water to help sober up customers. It is a great idea. I’ll give you that. Of course, you have to be sure you have an honest cab driver that hasn’t slipped something into those bottles. In your case, you chose poorly. Had you arrived at that cab twenty minutes earlier, you might have met that honest cab driver. If you’d like to meet him, I have him in the trunk. Don’t worry. I’m not charging him a fare.”
Gwen and Hank just stared at the man.
“Wow. Tough room. I was kidding, by the way. I knocked the cabbie out with a brick and tossed him in a dumpster. Can you imagine the smell he would have made if I killed him and kept him in that hot trunk? Gross.”
“Why are you doing this to us? What did we do to you?” asked Hank.
“You two didn’t do anything to me. It’s not about me. It’s all about you; both of you actually. You see, I’ve never had a loving couple before. I’ve tried a priest. I’ve tried a teacher. I’ve tried an old woman, who ran marathons, and seemed so full of life. The experience is so different each time, but you two are something extraordinary. I just know it!”
They blankly stared at him.
“Do you two not get it?” he asked. “In layman’s terms, I kill them. I take my friendly surgical scalpel, whom you’ll meet in just a little bit, and slice them across their bellies to let them bleed out slowly. Don’t get the wrong idea; I do not enjoy the killing. I’m not one of those freaks you hear about on the news. What I do is special. I’m not even sure if you two will understand. No one else ever does. It’s all about me, me, me. Don’t hurt me. Don’t kill me. If only they could comprehend what I’m doing here, but they never survive long enough for it to dawn on them. Perhaps this little experiment with two people wi
ll make a believer out of one of you; but which one?”
The gangling man crouched down to Gwen’s level and got within an inch of her face. His eyes stared as if he were looking through her. She could smell peppermint Schnapps on his breath. He slowly produced the scalpel from his back pocket. It had a red, plastic cap over the top of it with a smiley face crudely drawn in black marker. He pulled his face away and brought the small knife to her eye. He took the cap off and let her see the shiny blade. She could see her own blue eyes, reflected dully in the blade. They paled in comparison to his. “This is my baby,” he said. “She has been with me through a lot…to be honest, she’s been through a lot of people.”
He backed away and Gwen felt slightly relieved. Then, with one quick motion, he slashed Hank’s abdomen. After the blade had exited the wound, he shook it, spattering Gwen’s face with blood. Her screams of horror were outdone by Hank’s screams of agony. Their captor started screaming along with them, moving his head back and forth between them. Then, he began to chuckle as he produced a white handkerchief to wipe the blade clean. After he crumpled the handkerchief into a ball and threw it away carelessly, the man produced a stopwatch from his jean pocket.
Click.
“You see, Gwen. I’m about to become more intimate with your boyfriend than you have ever been. Now before you start thinking, ‘but Mr. Killer Sir, I’ve done this, this, and this, even though I didn’t want to, but he did and it was his birthday,’ that’s not what I mean. Get your mind out of the gutter. Have you ever heard that when you die, your life flashes before your eyes? Well, it’s true. I should know since I’ve had a front row seat to dozens of victims. In those last moments before death, people reveal their lives, their secrets, their most intimate memories. Everyone is different. It’s just like going to the movies and walking into a theater at random. Some are sad. Some are happy. Sometimes it can be really humorous. I killed a janitor one time. He lasted five minutes, and all he told me was a Chocolate Chip Cookie recipe his grandmother taught him. I can’t call it a total waste because everybody loves my cookies now.”
There was silence as Hank grinded his teeth in pain and Gwen couldn’t stop staring at the wound. Tears were flowing from her eyes.
“That was a joke. You see, I don’t actually bake cookies for anybody. I’m not a frickin’ girl scout. I do go door-to-door sometimes, but that’s strictly to kill people. Plus, green is not my color.”
Hank tried to push his duct taped hands against the wound, but it was pointless. The cut was too deep and Hank’s polo shirt didn’t offer much protection, neither did the little fat on his stomach. Blood steadily flowed out and began to pool around him. Gwen wanted to move away as it crept towards her thighs but at the same time, she didn’t want to leave his side. She tried to cover her legs by pulling her dress lower.
“Okay. Enough with the jokes. I’m not here to entertain you two. According to my handy dandy stopwatch, we don’t have much time left now. Hank, my man! You’re a dead man sitting. Tell me what you’re thinking. The floor is all yours, as it should be because you’re bleeding all over it. What do you want to talk about? What’s flashing before your eyes? What are your secrets? I’d love to hear from the perfect, loving couple so I can check you off my list. I might even let you kiss her goodbye.”
Hank looked up from his wound. He glanced at Gwen and then, back at the psycho. “We’re not a perfect, loving couple,” he said.
“Oh, please, you think lying to me is going to save you? I was watching you two in that fancy Martini bar. I picked you two out over everybody else because you have that spark every couple longs to have. She’s the fucking yin to your yang. Is that the correct usage? I think so because yang rhymes with wang.”
Hank shook his head. “No. We’re not. I’m a cheater.” Tears formed along the bottom edge of his eyelids. “I’m sorry, Gwen. I never meant for you to find out like this.”
Gwen sat there stunned. After a few moments to let it sink in, she said, “It’s okay, Hank.” She had been in short relationships in the past that she ended because of her partners’ infidelities. It always turned out to be a one time thing they regretted. In the past, Gwen let her anger get the best of her and she lost many good guys that just made one bad decision. “These things happen sometimes. I am not going to spend the last moments of your life being mad at you. I forgive you.”
“You don’t understand, Gwen. You’re the other woman.” Tears streamed down his face.
“No. That- That’s not possible. I’ve been to your apartment.”
“It’s a friend’s apartment who’s out of the country a lot. I have a house outside the city. This is why I’ve always changed the subject when it comes to moving in together. My business doesn’t take me out of the city like I told you. It takes me into the city. That’s where I met you.”
Their captor checked his stopwatch. “You know, it’s been five minutes. As revealing as all this has been, my victims almost never last this long. Apparently, I didn’t cut you deep enough.” He advanced on Hank.
“Please! I’m married,” he cried as he pressed himself against the stained, grey wall. He looked at Gwen and then, back at the floor as though he couldn’t bear to look at her anymore. As if he could still see her from the corner of his eye, he closed them tight. More tears formed trying to break free. “I have a son. I’m not what you’re looking for.”
Gwen stared at Hank as if he was a stranger, which wasn’t too far from the truth. The tone of his voice and the fact he kept referring only to himself said everything. He is asking for his life to be spared because he is a husband, a father. He was not the man she knew. She was nothing to him.
Hank’s revelation did nothing but enrage the man. He kicked Hank in the side of the head. Hank’s head hit the wall, knocking off a cloud of dust and plaster. His face, now powdered with dust, turned toward Gwen; forcing their eyes to meet. They were eyes she no longer knew.
“This is just great! Do you know what you’ve done? This has been a complete waste of time.” The man produced a small, black notepad and started flipping through it. “I need to kill a loving couple,” he said as he flashed a page at Gwen. She didn’t get to see it long, but she saw it long enough to notice many checked off boxes. “I don’t need to kill a cheater and his whore.”
“I’m not a whore! I didn’t know any of this,” Gwen shouted at him as if proving herself chaste would allow her to be spared.
“Either way you both are useless to me. You don’t understand. The people I kill are good, honest people. When a person dies, there’s a lapse between Heaven and this world. As the body’s soul leaves, that gateway is open and one day, God will speak to me. He will tell me my true purpose in this life. This connection has to be from someone that is actually going to Heaven. God is not going to speak through either of you. Haven’t you guys heard of the Ten Commandments?”
“You’re crazy,” Hank said.
“Judge not lest ye be judged,” the man said as he stabbed Hank with the scalpel. “Are you there, God? It’s me, Adam. Nope. I guess I was right.”
Gwen cried out again but not as loud or as long as before. This man, Adam, was not so much killing her boyfriend, as he was killing a random person. Still horrifying, but Gwen could now disconnect from the situation somewhat.
With the scalpel still embedded in his stomach, Adam got within an inch of Hank’s face. “Let’s not make this a total loss. Do you believe in the human soul? You should. It was scientifically proven over a century ago and yet, the world is full of unbelievers. My former employer was one such unbeliever. I was working as a mortician’s assistant and one of my duties was to pick up fresh bodies from the hospital. My so-called boss didn’t approve of me weighing the deceased at the hospital. There is evidence that the soul weighs twenty one grams. I would race to the hospital, use their scales to weigh the body, and compare notes with weights taken before death. After he had received the third complaint from the hospital administration that I was violating
their HIPPA Policy, I had to tell him what I was doing. He called me a fool and fired me. Well, I guess I was being a bit foolish. I should have realized that I needed to be there at the time of death. Perhaps my firing was a blessing in disguise. Now, I get to do what I was born to do. Now, Hank, even though you aren’t in my book, your death won’t be meaningless. I promise this won’t hurt. I want to breathe in your soul.”
Hank spat in his face.
In one angry swipe, Adam tore the scalpel through Hank’s fleshy stomach. Hank didn’t even attempt to stop the blood as it poured out of the wound that stretched across his entire abdomen. He was going into shock.
Adam smiled devilishly until he looked down at his hand. Hank’s blood was splattered all over it. Adam gasped, ran across the derelict apartment, and went through a closed door, which proved to be a bathroom. Even though there didn’t seem to be any power, Gwen could tell the water worked fine by the hissing sound coming from behind the closed door.
“Gwen. . .”