by V. F. Mason
I huff, because it’s too hot, and I tug on the collar of my shirt, but Aunt quietly fusses at me. “Behave.” I stop my actions and just look around, noticing a boy behind me fidgeting with his hands also.
He sees me too, and then murmurs, “Hey.” I smile, because in this place you don’t get much interaction with anyone, since everyone is homeschooled till you are ten.
They claim it helps in the long haul, but then again, I don’t understand that either, so I never question it. “My name is Logan,” he says.
“Lachlan.” He extends his hand to me, but it’s slapped away by his mother I guess as she addresses my aunt. “Follow the rules.”
Whatever they want to say fails though, as we are next in line. Several families who already went through the process seem disappointed; their kids probably didn’t pass.
Finally, we stand in front of him, and Aunt Jessica takes his hand and kisses the back of it. “It’s an honor, Pastor.” He nods and then looks at me. As he scans me from head to toe, something crosses his face, but I can’t name it.
I only know it sends tremors through me, and suddenly I pray for him not to choose me.
Please, God, please.
But as always, my prayers don’t get heard.
New York, New York
January 2018
Valencia
I hear the lock being turned and get up swiftly, ignoring the pain in my knee from my previous position. Maria doesn’t bring me food as I expect, but instead clears her throat and comes to me with a keychain in her hand.
“Don’t do this.” I stop her with my hand as she gives me a confused look. “I know you want to help me, but he will kill you if you free me.”
This guy is serious, and I’m not even sure it’s his plan to bring me safely to Victor anymore.
Her eyes widen at my words, and it takes her a beat to reply, as she hides her gaze from me. “Lachlan asks that you to come upstairs, take a shower, and join him at dinner.”
“You’re joking, right?” I ask, as laughter erupts from me so harshly that I have to hold my stomach because the hilarity of the situation is not lost on me. “He is asking me? How big of him!” I manage to say past my amusement, wondering if I ended up in some kind of other dimension.
But Maria stands still, fear evident in her eyes, and I stop, clearing my throat. “Well then you can tell him to fuck off.” Why didn’t I curse all this time? Nothing like expressing an emotion with one curse word.
The whole good-girl image is overrated; it’s brought me nothing but sorrow.
What’s his plan anyway? He’s acting all weird and not delivering on the serial killer aspect of it, yet everyone is scared shitless of him.
If he didn’t kidnap me for the sake of raping or ransom, then what does he want from me?
How does he intend to break me and drown me in darkness as he claims? The guy is completely mental, that’s for sure. But what’s the agenda?
I sit back down, resting my back by the wall while gazing straight ahead of me, barely holding back the impulse to show my middle finger to the cameras.
“He will be angry,” Maria whispers.
I shrug. “Good. Let him.” Maybe then he will finally show his true self and stop playing whatever twisted, fucked-up game he has in mind.
“When he is angry, he does bad things,” she adds, and my heart stills as I glance at her. She fumbles with her fingers, shifting from one leg to the other, and I notice how she glances at the ceiling from time to time.
“Why do you do that?” The elderly guy, Levi, also has this guilty expression whenever he comes inside and sighs heavily if he sees my pain. Yet as much as they might be Lachlan’s prisoners, they don’t seem abused or tortured.
Nor does he strike me as a man who will go around and rape his female maids if his victims don’t follow their orders. He scared me with Maria before, but now I think it’s just a ploy.
This kind of devotion they are showing him? It comes from loyalty.
I can recognize that. But how is it possible to have loyalty to such a man?
“He saved me once. I will always stay with him.”
“No matter what he does?” Shouldn’t she, as a woman, feel for me? For my state? With what does he brainwash all these people?
“He won’t hurt you if you just follow the rules.”
“Funny thing, I don’t want to follow them.” I don’t know where all this stubbornness comes from, as I’ve never shown it before in my life, but it’s there.
As if strength has been unleashed within me, that was kept hidden and locked long enough and emerged to help me in this madness.
“Please,” she begs, kneeling in front of me and wrapping her hands around mine, startling me. “Just this once, do it. Don’t antagonize him right now. Not during this time.”
During this time?
“What is he, a beast that’s going to unleash his animal once the full moon hits?”
She doesn’t reply, and for a second, I wonder if that’s what she believes. But thankfully, she quickly shakes her head as a chuckle slips past her lips. “No, but please. Who knows? Maybe if you do what he asks, he will let you go.” There is so much hope in her voice that it’s hard not to believe her.
Except I know it’s not the case.
Then another thought hits me.
If they let me out, it means I will have a means to escape. I found the cab that day and have good memory of the labyrinth in the garden. If I manage to snatch the phone from Levi’s back pocket, I might be able to call the police or someone to help free me.
And get lost in the garden until they arrive. Anything will be better than sitting in this cage and doing nothing.
Playing along doesn’t have to mean surrender; it might be the only solution to the problem.
“Okay, then,” I agree, and her face lights up as I stand up and dust my knees. “Let’s go to that dinner.”
And crash it.
Lachlan
“She has agreed to dinner,” Levi proclaims, holding my jacket for me as I clip the buttons on my sleeves. With Beethoven playing in the background, I study my reflection in the mirror.
“You don’t say?” I motion for my jacket.
He places it on my hand, huffing. “Why did she say yes? I thought she would say no.”
He blinks at my chuckle, as I put on the jacket and pour myself a glass of whiskey. “Levi, you know nothing about women, do you?”
He blushes, playing with the collar of his shirt, while mumbling, “I’ll have you know my Elizabeth loved my ways.” Softness crosses his features, but it’s quickly replaced with sorrow. “While she was alive anyway.” He wraps his hands around the cross on his neck, closes his eyes, and chants something.
I finish my glass and grab my phone while slapping him on the back. “Hide your phone. She will try to get it.”
“What?”
“Why do you think she agreed so eagerly? Our angel wants to escape.”
Her naivety is entertaining in some ways, because it only proves to me she has no idea about true danger and darkness in this world. She believes in fairytale stories, that it’s possible to easily escape serial killers just with some “awesome” plan.
Serial killers are hunters. They don’t let go of their victims or give them freedom unless they want to achieve something with it. If more people knew about psychology, maybe fewer people would live with such a useless thing as hope.
It never did anything good for me either. Hope only brought disappointment and the knowledge that no one will come and save you because simply no one gives a fuck.
She shouldn’t have bothered with poor Levi anyway. I’ll give her one shot at winning, and if she fails, I will resort to my grand scheme.
Either way, she’ll be destroyed.
It’s just up to her to choose her demise.
Valencia
I dip the brush into the loose powder and it spills a little on the table as I bring it up to apply to my cheeks and n
ose, being careful not to touch my blood-red lipstick that makes my lips fuller.
Gazing at my reflection in the mirror, I study my perfectly applied makeup that is more suitable for stage than dinner. Vivid smoky brown eyes with three layers of mascara, cheekbones standing out thanks to the bronzer, the added makeup highlighting my pale skin, and everything is finished off with my hair that Maria put into a braid that gracefully showcases my neck.
Standing up, I slide the silky white robe to the floor as I walk to the costume waiting for me on the bed. I fist my hands, doing my best to rein in my anger, but it’s so hard with Lachlan’s last order.
Maria brought me to this spacious room with the simple bed, carpet, and a wardrobe that rivals a princess’s, plus a huge-ass bathroom. Earlier, she claimed Lachlan left instructions for me and I had to read them.
I opened the envelope on the dresser that basically said I could be either a sugar plum fairy or a swan from different Tchaikovsky plays and act out the character.
Just how fucked-up do you have to be to offer something like this?
I decided on the swan. After I washed myself, wincing and cursing as my bruises throbbed, the slightest touch bringing pain that reminded me of the reality I lived in, Maria fixed my hair.
I put on the Odette costume, the black bodice, as he chose the one from Act III when the dark lord deceived the prince and acted like a swan, the corset hugging me tightly as I zip it up. Beige tights and pointes follow, and the last attachment is a crown that gives me a much darker look than I’m used to.
It feels surreal to wear the costume I was supposed to perform in, in such vile circumstances.
A hollow laugh escapes me at the irony, though, since I know now exactly how she felt. If one day I am still able to perform it, I think Olga’s argument of me not being able to perform as a swan will be invalid.
Surprisingly, instead of a tutu, there is a simple short skirt that’s much easier to navigate. At least it doesn’t add more ridiculousness to my attire.
Taking a deep breath, I exhale swiftly and open the door where Maria waits for me nervously, but the minute she sees me, she sighs in relief and motions to the hall. “He is waiting downstairs.”
“Where is Levi?” Shouldn’t they keep someone more trusted by my side? I didn’t miss how close he is with Lachlan.
“He is there. He’ll serve the food.”
My brows raise, but excitement settles in, although I mask it under a bored shrug. If he is going to be so close to me, taking a phone should be a piece of cake.
All I need is a moment with it, and I’ll find an escape.
We go through a second hall; it doesn’t have much really except blank black walls and a red Persian carpet that flows to the stairs with oak banisters. We go down, and with each step, the music is clearer and clearer in my head.
Mozart.
Maria guides me to the dining room, and I hold back a gasp as an image from some kind of historical movie greets me.
The room is lit by hundreds of candles that are located all over the place, from the chandelier to dressers and tables. The red and golden curtains sway as a light breeze slips through the cracks in the balcony door, allowing fresh air inside without freezing your bones.
Although the room is spacious, it doesn’t feel like it, because there are statues of different wild animals in hunting poses and expensive, by the looks of them, oil paintings that grace the walls, giving it an aura of doom.
At the center is the dining table spread with glistening china and food that smells delicious. In the far corner sits Lachlan, lounging on a chair as he watches me.
Levi stands next to me, wearing his usual clothes. His white-gloved hand points at the other end of the table with a plate that already has rice and chicken on it, and he says, “Please, sit down.” He gives me a reassuring smile, and I return it as I hope my friendliness will keep him close. I scan his appearance; he doesn’t have any pockets on the back of his pants, but I do notice one on his chest.
I can’t be too obvious though, so I have to think how to snag it after dinner, so Lachlan will believe I’m cooperative.
Levi slides out a seat for me, and I drop onto it. “Thank you.”
He nods and then tenses a little, as Lachlan’s husky voice orders, “Everyone out.” In seconds, we are left alone, sitting miles away but still seeing each other clearly.
At least I won’t have to experience his nearness during this charade. “Well, you do really go all in, don’t you?” I muse, picking up a glass of water and taking a sip, welcoming the cooling sensation in my parched throat. My stomach grumbles and I lick my lips at the food. I’ll need to be strong for the chasing, so pride can wait. Digging into the chicken, I put it in my mouth and hate how tasty it is.
His cook sure as hell knows his job. But then Lachlan always wants the best, doesn’t he?
“You are awfully… what’s the right word?” He taps on his chin with his finger. “Ah, yes. Eager for this dinner. To what do I owe the pleasure of it?”
The bile sticks in my throat as my fist tightens on the fork. Desire to stab him with it is strong, but I push it down and shrug. “Sorry if you expected hysterics. I found them tiresome.”
He rests against his seat, sipping his wine while his eyes calculate my next move, so I do my best to keep my face completely blank. “How interesting. Out of all the women I’ve killed or intended to kill, you are the calmest of them all.” He points at me with his glass. “You have my respect for that. Cheers.” He gulps it greedily when I almost choke.
My hands still on the knife and fork as they slide from the chicken and graze the plate, enveloping the buzzing sound as I gulp breath.
He kills women? He told me he doesn’t rape anyone.
But there are other things a man can do to a woman that can forever damage her and kill her. Are those his targets? Does he get a high in destroying them emotionally before inflicting unbearable pain on their flesh?
What did you think? That he is some kind of a hero who kills bad guys, and deep down, nothing is like you thought? That he is a good man with a heart of gold? Snap out of it! It’s not a fairytale!
“And she’s back. I wondered who had replaced my angel,” he purrs, and I let go of the silverware.
“This is all very amusing to you, isn’t it?”
“To an extent.”
“What do you want, Lachlan? Tell me already, because all of this is insane.” I motion to my clothes. “And ridiculous. I’m not a swan and you are not a dark lord.”
“Let me be the judge of that,” he says, leaning on the table, still sipping his drink. “The lover in this case will be me or Max?”
“You are not my lover,” I grit through my teeth, hating myself for ever allowing him to touch me.
“Then Max, huh? Hard to call someone who never had access to that seductive body of yours a lover.”
Fed up with his cryptic language, I rise from the seat and plant my palms on the table, sending the china flying to the floor and shattering into tiny little pieces. “Stop playing games with me and tell me what your goal is. Enough!” Maybe all my screaming will bring Levi here, and then Lachlan will order me to go back to the room where I can make a call.
“Shhh, save your voice for later.” I don’t have time to dwell on his words as he presses a small remote in his hands and then points at the fireplace on our right. Just above it, the wall goes back and up comes a flat-screen TV.
My brows furrow in confusion as he presses on the thing again and the TV turns on, displaying some kind of black room. “That’s torture room number three. The knives,” he explains as if it’s supposed to mean something to me. “Anything goes as long as it has a sharp edge. The floor is marble, so the blood slipping from the victims doesn’t permanently damage anything. I don’t like renovations much.” He presses again and the view of the camera changes. My eyes widen as I see a man pinned to the wall, his hands above him together and closed with a knife stuck through the skin. H
is legs are a bit apart, but each one is chained to the wall, and blood pours from his wounds. His hair is soaked in it too.
“What is this? Why are you showing this to me?” Oh my God, does this place have torture rooms with more victims? Just how many desires does he have at once that he needs several rooms to sustain them?
“Ah, there is no sound. Apologies.”
He clicks a few times, and I hear a female voice there. “How about a blade? Should go well with your tanned skin. It will hurt a bit.” She shows a small distance between her index finger and thumb. “More pain than the kitchen knife. But I will have more fun. What do you think?” The man mumbles something through the tape holding his lips together, but because of his hair all over the place, I can’t see his face clearly.
The woman sighs heavily, walks closer to him, and slowly peels it from his lips as he groans; it probably brings discomfort. “What was that?”
“Please let me go. I don’t have any information for you,” he rasps, and I freeze, my mouth hanging open in shock as tears well in my eyes.
I try to say something past my shock, but words don’t come.
I would have recognized this voice anywhere.
Max. He has Max!
“No!” I finally scream and dart to the TV, but Lachlan is swiftly at my side, pushing me back on my seat, and I land on it hard, hitting my elbow in the process. “Let him go!” I scream to him, but all he does is chuckle, placing his hands in his pockets as he gazes at me.
“Darling, you wanted me to explain why you are here. I just fulfilled your wish.” He steps closer, and I move back although there is no space, so all that’s left is to dig my back deeper into the chair. “Now, if Max suffers or not depends on you.”
“You are insane,” I whisper with my heart almost in my throat from panic that threatens to strip me of my sanity. Max groans in the background as the woman grazes his skin with a blade. “A psychopath.”
He sighs heavily. “Psychopaths have a genetic predisposition to be the way they are. Sociopaths are shaped by their environment. Get your facts right first, darling. However, I’m none of those.” Another agonizing scream reverberates through the wall, and I close my eyes tight, tears falling on my hands drop by drop, as I listen to my friend suffer.