GABRIEL (Killer Book 2)

by Capps, Bonny

  He steps back, his eyes never leaving mine.

  “What happens after you’re done using me?” I ask, feeling the last of my pride escape my lungs with each word.

  Smiling, he runs the back of his fingers over my cheek, “Then I say goodnight.”

  My lips part, but I cannot spit out a response. If he says ‘goodnight’, that means that I die, and I’m not ready. Not after everything that I’ve survived.

  So, I gather my hair and hold it up, allowing him to step behind me so he can secure his ‘reminder’ around my neck.

  I squeeze my eyes shut as the collar clicks locked, sealing my fate.

  9

  "All of the sudden I realized that I had just done something that separated me from the human race and it was something that could never be undone, I realized that from that point on I could never be like normal people. I must have stood there in that state for 20 minutes. I have never felt an emptiness of self like I did right then and I never will forget that feeling. It was like I crossed over into a realm I could never come back from."

  -David Gore

  I watch as her golden hair hangs down around her face. Her lips are pursed as she looks down at the warm pasta. The collar is secured around her neck, and the leash lies flat in the valley between her breasts.

  “Are you going to eat?”

  Her sapphire eyes meet mine from across the table momentarily before she diverts them again. “I’m not hungry.”

  Tilting my head to the side, I examine this stubborn woman. She’s not like the others, and I’m pissed at myself for not leaving her alone. How can I say goodnight to someone that fought through such a harsh life, yet survived?

  I stand and approach her, causing her to flinch slightly. I grab the plate and walk into the kitchen. Dumping its contents, I rinse the dish and set it in the sink before returning to her.

  I hold a hand out, and she stares at it blankly. “Come.”

  Licking her lips, she places her hand in mine and follows me up the stairs.

  I lead her first into my bedroom and then the bathroom before turning on the shower. Steam fills the bathroom quickly as I turn and face her, “Go on. Take a shower.”

  I turn and leave her, closing the door behind me.

  I sit on the edge of my bed and pull my phone from my pocket.

  Mom 7:40 PM

  We’re having family dinner next Sunday. Please come.

  I miss you, son.

  Love, Mom xoxo

  Sighing, I look across the room at my reflection in the large mirror above my dresser. My hair is disheveled. I look tired. My eyes hold more knowing than they should at twenty-five years old. I need to shave. I need to hit the gym again. It’s been days since my last workout.

  The worst part, as I look into this mirror, is that I see him.

  The man who held my mother captive and did unthinkable things to her. I was born as a result of a monstrous act. I have evil in my veins. No-matter how I try and contain my madness, I still kill, just as he did. I took a woman, just as he did - against her will. I’m sick, and the only thing that can quiet my mind is pain. Feeling it… inflicting it.

  I look towards the bathroom door and see her standing with a towel clutched around her small body. Wet strands of hair stick to her cheeks and shoulders.

  She clears her throat as her eyes meet mine, “I got the bandages wet.”

  I run my hand over my face as I stand and toss my phone on my dresser, “Lie down. I’ll redress them.”

  She nods as she walks towards the bed, looking over her shoulder momentarily before she drops the towel and lies on her stomach.

  I retrieve my supplies from the medicine cabinet and sit beside her.

  First, I peel off the wet gauze, and I clean the cuts before applying antiseptic.

  Once finished, she crawls under the blanket and pulls it up to her neck. Her weary eyes watch me as I throw away the old bandages and open up my dresser. I feel her gaze burning into me as I remove my clothes and pull on my black, silk pajama pants.

  I crawl in beside her and prop my head up on my hand as I stare down at the back of her head.

  She jumps when I reach my arm around her and pull at the chain attached to my iron headboard. I quickly clasp it to the collar and she looks at me from over her shoulder.

  “I’ve got to go to work tomorrow. Do you see the windows? There are metal shades that will slide over the glass come tomorrow. This room, like every other room in my home is soundproof. This place could very well survive the apocalypse. So don’t waste your energy trying to escape. There is a mini fridge over there,” I pause as I nod towards it, “It has food in it and drinks.”

  She nods haltingly as she begins to lay her head back down.

  “Hey,” I say, my eyes catching hers once more, “Don’t go through my shit. I normally would never allow a woman to stay with me in here. I’m very particular. I like order, and I will know if you’ve been digging around. Understood?”

  She nods again before lying her head back down.

  There is about a foot between us as I lay my own head on the soft pillow next to hers.

  Only a few minutes slip by before her breathing slows and she is fast asleep.

  My eyes begin to fall shut, but I’m startled when she rolls over and nuzzles her head into my chest. A small grin spreads across her face as her warm body presses against mine. I lift my arm for several seconds, not sure what to do, so I do the only thing that I can muster.

  I wrap my arm around her frail body, cupping my hand over the back of her head. I hold her close until my eyes fall shut.

  When I awake, she is still in my embrace. I carefully lift my arm and slide out of bed without waking her. Stepping into the shower, I lean my head back as the water pours over my face.

  Once finished, I follow my normal routine; brush my teeth and place the tooth paste and toothbrush on the counter – and inch apart exactly, then I shave and position the razor diagonally beside the shaving cream. I apply aftershave – five pats per cheek, and I apply deodorant – ten times beneath each arm.

  I comb my hair neatly and am pleased that I am looking more put together today.

  Opening the closet, I retrieve my clothing for today – a button up, white dress shirt with some stylish, faded jeans and brown boots polished to perfection.

  I spray on my cologne and I’m caught off guard when I see her blue eyes staring at me intently. Placing my wallet, phone and keys in my pocket, I approach her and sit on the edge of the bed. “I’ll be gone for a while. Be good.”

  Tilting her head to the side, her eyes implore mine, “What am I supposed to do all day?”

  Smiling, I tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear, “I have a full bookshelf over there, and a television there.” I pause, gesturing towards the items, “I’ll be back tonight, and we’ll eat dinner.”

  She blinks several times as she bows her head.

  “Hey,” I whisper, placing a finger under her chin, tilting her head up.

  “I don’t like being alone.” She murmurs.

  “I have an idea.” I respond as I stand and approach the door. When I open the door, Bailey runs into the room and jumps onto the bed.

  She smiles automatically as he lays his head in her lap, “Who is this?”

  “Bailey. He can keep you company. He’s vicious, so don’t think about trying to get away.”

  She smiles as her eyes find mine.

  “I’ll see you later, Dani.”

  “How have you been, Gabriel?” Dr. Gnosh asks.

  I sit opposite of her in the roomy, serene office. The walls are a pale yellow and wind chimes catch the breeze through the open window.

  “I’m good.” I respond, resting my elbows on my knees as I look down at my hands.

  “Good? Just good?” She says soothingly. Her voice is like the calm after the storm.

  My eyes meet hers as she stares at me intently from over her glasses.

  “Can I ask you a question off the
record, Doc?”

  Her expression remains neutral as she places her trusty pen and writing pad beside her on the couch. Removing her glasses, she holds them in her hands as she leans forward. “Sure.”

  “Is it possible to have inherited my father’s disorder?”

  She stares at me momentarily before she responds. “Certain psychopathic traits can be passed down, yes. We would have to eliminate certain characteristics before determining that, though. For example, do you lack empathy? Do you feel contempt towards people for no other reason than them simply existing? Are you narcissistic? Of course, these generally aren’t things that you yourself can determine. Most psychopaths do not acknowledge that there is anything wrong with them. In many cases, they feel that it has nothing to do with them, and everything to do with the world that they live in. We would need to run tests, but tests aren’t all inclusive. People who have this disorder can still lead normal lives. They can love. They can have a family and they can be successful.”

  I frown as I stare at my hands. Love? Family? Those are the things that my father wanted more than anything, but never wholly achieved.

  “There are two types of psychopathy. To be frank, I generally do not go so in depth with disorders, but you’re a smart man, Gabriel, and based on your history, I think it’s important that you have an understanding. Cleckleyan psychopathy entails bold, disinhibited behavior. Criminal psychopaths are generally meaner and more reckless. The triarchic model suggests that all psychopaths display three main characteristics; Boldness, disinhibition and meanness. Obviously, any one person who is diagnosed as someone with psychopathy may display one or more of the characteristics than others. We’re all unique.”

  “What about pain? The enjoyment of feeling pain? Feeling… pleasure from it?”

  She smiles as she stares at me, “Sadomasochism, yes – it has been argued that people with psychopathic tendencies seek pleasure in violent sexual acts. When you narrow it down, the enjoyment associated with sadomasochism is inciting sexual pleasure while violence resembles attachment… ownership in most cases. I think it’s important to remember that those who practice consensual sadomasochism do so out of love and attachment – or the need for love and attachment.”

  “What about relationships? You say love is possible, how is that achieved?”

  She tilts her head to the side, “Love – yes, love is possible. Relationships are generally more difficult for a psychopath. Where emotions, empathy and things of that nature run deeper for others, sometimes it simply doesn’t exist for someone with psychopathic tendencies. Sex is usually unbalanced in these relationships because the psychopathic counterpart of the relationship tends to seek pleasure for only themselves, leaving the other feeling unappreciated, or used. Psychopaths are sexually motivated by power. They are sadists. This is why psychopaths tend to seek out the lonely types, because they tend to be susceptible to a psychopath’s sexual behavior.”

  She stops and looks over her shoulder at the clock which hangs above her desk, “I’m afraid our time is up, Gabriel.”

  Her eyes find mine, “I’ll see you next week.”

  I walk out of the double doors and into the dreary afternoon air. The Manhattan streets are packed full as people bustle about. My eyes are drawn to familiarity as I see the wet paper flap in the breeze. Her smile is bright, her hair pulled over her shoulder. “Missing” is typed in bold letters above her photo.

  Dani LeBlanc

  Height: 5’6

  Weight: 120

  Eyes: Blue

  Hair: Blonde

  Last seen in her apartment building. Mysteriously vanished after taking the day off.

  I sigh as the rain taps against my face. I text my father, letting him know that I’m taking the rest of the day off as I walk to the bar a couple of buildings down.

  10

  "I was born with the devil in me. I could not help the fact that I was a murderer, no more than the poet can help the inspiration to sing… I was born with the evil one standing as my sponsor beside the bed where I was ushered into the world, and he has been with me since."

  -H.H. Holmes

  My fingers feel raw as I try and fit them in the gap between the window frame and the metal screen for the hundredth time, but it’s no use. He wasn’t lying. This is the place to be if ever there is a zombie apocalypse.

  Bailey’s eyes stare at me from across the room, watching me as I plot my escape. I look at him suspiciously, feeling silly thinking that he’ll tell his master what I’m up to.

  “What would you do? He took me and imprisoned me here!” I say, throwing my hands up and spinning around. Bailey whines and lays his head on his paws as he continues to watch me.

  “Don’t go through my shit.”

  I scoff as I recount what he said. Fuck him! What’s the worst that he can do? He’s already whipped my back bloody, forced me to come and had me trapped in a cold dungeon for days on end.

  He’s a bastard, and I could care less if he’s particular.

  I walk towards the dresser, the chain has enough slack for me to walk around the bedroom and the bathroom.

  Opening the drawer, I’m surprised to see that his clothing is lined in perfectly folded stacks. I lift one of the plain undershirts and hold it in front of my eyes. Clearly, I can’t pull this over my head due to my collar and leash, so I throw it on the floor. Then, I grab the rest of his clothing and throw them on top of it.

  Walking to his closet, I open the door, first grabbing one of his button down shirts and dressing myself – I then grab every single garment and throw them around. The floor is littered with clothing as I use my arm to sweep the items off of the dresser. His cologne breaks on impact, spreading his scent throughout the room.

  I go into the bathroom and do the same. Paintings are thrown across the room along with vases and other breakables. When I come down from my fit, my eyes travel around the destroyed room. A chill shoots down my spine as I fall onto the bed and contemplate how stupid my actions were. I’m going to be punished. Either he’ll whip me, or starve me… even worse, he could kill me for what I’ve done. He clearly likes order in his life, and I just disrupted that. He won’t be happy.

  I grab the remote and click on the television, tuning to the local news. After several minutes, I’m disheartened as I watch the newscasters carry on as if I never existed. Then, my heart soars with hope when I see my best friend with tears streaming down her face.

  I point the remote at the television with a shaky hand and turn up the volume.

  “Please, if you have my friend, bring her back. I can’t live without her. Dani, I love you. Come back home, please.”

  I blink several times, releasing the salty tears that have collected. I would do anything to run into Misty’s arms and tell her that I’m okay, but I can’t. I feel helpless. Misty is one of the only people that I have in this world. Not being able to comfort her is heartbreaking.

  I bury my face in my hands before I hear the newscaster begin to speak.

  “Officials have yet to determine if the disappearance of Dani LeBlanc is foul play. They believe that she was simply fed up with life and needed to take a break. Some of you may remember the LeBlanc case, where a seventeen year old Dani LeBlanc was taken into police custody. It was recorded as one of the worst child abuse cases in Bergan County. Her father and abuser, Antonio LeBlanc has never been found.”

  I wipe the tears from my face with the back of my hand. I feel the rage boiling away, my heart beating emphatically as the realization of everything hits me like a ton of bricks. It seems that God had it out for me. After everything that I had survived, I was doing better – now this.

  I let out a guttural scream as I hurl the remote across the room. It bounces off of the wall as I fall onto my back.

  I let out a long sigh as I stare at the ceiling. Then, I bolt upright when I hear it.

  Humming.

  I watch in awe as a tiny, old woman swiftly moves about in Gabriel’s kitchen. It’s a fe
ed from a surveillance camera. There are little squares on the screen looking into each room.

  I jump to my feet and run to the door.

  “Hey!” I holler, watching the surveillance camera desperately.

  She doesn’t bat an eye as she continues cleaning.

  “HELP! HELP ME!” I scream as my fists bang against the door. I’ve never felt a door so sturdy, I can’t even see through the cracks. It’s almost like it’s air tight.

  I run to the television and watch her. It’s then that I realize that she has headphones on as she carries on, dancing around as she tidies his home. I sink to the floor as I watch her move from the kitchen to the living room, and when I see her walk down the hall towards the room, I scream and bang the door once again, but she doesn’t hear me.

  Once she finishes, she leaves through the front door. All hope is lost as I curl into a fetal position and cry myself to sleep.

  “What in the fuck?”

  I startle awake and look up at him. He stands in the doorway as his eyes travel around the disaster before they lock onto mine. They are filled will fiery rage as he marches towards me.

  I quickly stand, not wanting to be vulnerable as he comes at me like a lion stalking his prey.

  His large hand wraps around my neck, gripping tightly as death becomes too close a reality.

  “Who the fuck do you think you are?” He growls as he backs me against the wall. “I warned you. I told you to leave my shit alone.” His eyes frantically dart around the room once more, “Do you know what this does to me? This disorder?”

  My heart gallops beneath my ribs as his grip tightens.

  “Gabriel… I- I’m sorry.” I stammer. I’m not sure what else to say at this point, my words are no bandage for the rage that is quickly building within him. There is no taking back what I’ve done.