Each time I sent him on his merry way, maybe I should have listened to him, since my stubbornness didn’t bring any results anyway.
Instead, I’m sitting in an expensive car riding with a monster while looking hideous and stinking.
I bet he has fun with that too.
The silence stretches in the car, settling around us, but I’m the only one who is tense. Arson rests his back on the seat and easily moves the steering wheel, barely sparing me a glance.
But then again, who knows how many women he kidnaps on a weekly basis. Maybe for him, this is another Sunday or Monday.
It’s hard to understand a psycho if you’re not one.
However, the fear hitting me on the steps earlier, where my feet seemed glued to the marble, doesn’t let me keep my mouth shut and I ask again, this time hoping he will grace me with the freaking answer. “Where are you taking me?” I prefer to know what the future holds for me, because if you’re prepared for danger, it might not be as terrifying or painful as you think.
At least that’s the lesson I learned with the Pastor.
He stays silent for so long I focus back on the ever-changing trees passing in a blur since he drives so fast. When his deep voice fills the car, I jump a little in my seat. “Home.”
Blinking in confusion a few times at this, because that’s the last thing I expected him to say, I fire another question. “Is this where you plan to use me for your purpose?” He didn’t specify what purpose he has for me, but I’m not dumb, despite what he might think.
If a hunter needs prey for something… it has to be about another hunter. Otherwise, what’s the point of involving me in his plans at all?
He takes a hard right turn and I lean to the left, almost landing on him but quickly placing my hand on the space between us before shifting back on my seat. “No.” He looks my way, but because of his sunglasses, I can’t study the expression in his eyes, and his emotionless tone is nothing to go by. “We can’t do that while you look like this.” The corner of his mouth pulls up, showcasing a dimple on his right cheek that I haven’t noticed before. “Eager, are we?”
Huffing in exasperation, I twist my head back to the window and try to rein in the storm brewing in my veins.
Acting difficult in the current situation won’t bring me results, so I keep my mouth shut, while thinking about different herbs in my head in hopes of them calming me down.
I notice movement next to me and shrink inwardly. He extends his hand but then I exhale in relief when he presses a button on the radio and unfamiliar music starts to play.
The one we had back in “heaven” usually had no words, only a fast beat to get us all dancing or working out. Otherwise, Pastor had strict rules for us not to be seduced by the devil’s music.
I roll my eyes at the memory of it, but then my mood perks up when the music registers in my ears, the beat of it oddly comforting. I don’t have much time to appreciate it though, because we finally get out of the woods onto a big road with a bridge leading to a city, and a loud gasp slips past my lips before I can stop it.
“Oh my God,” I whisper, leaning closer to the window while I drink in the beauty of this magnificent town, whatever it’s called, from the tall buildings that reach the sky to the endless cars filling the bridge as if we’re all moving to the center of the universe.
Thousands of lights it seems light up the city, showcasing all its glory in the night with the stars shining brightly above. Loud horns echo in the streets with different music streaming from inside the vehicles.
I hold onto the outside of the car door, almost plastering myself to it while I pop my head out to better see everything as we fully enter the city where so many people walk around freely, laughing or talking to each other. There are street dancers, and huge TVs on buildings talking about things I have no idea about.
There are various small shops with pastries and food, with people even eating outside at this hour! But then again, it’s winter now, right?
My brows furrow and I lean even closer, having almost half my body out of the car when I see two women around my age standing right in the middle of the street, holding something in their hand as they tap on it repeatedly. Each time they make a different face and take a different pose, giggling.
How strange; I wonder what this thing in their hand is.
I hear someone shout, “Hot Dogs!” And my head follows the voice to a man who strolls next to a small wagon that has a sausage sign on it.
Even though I have no idea what a hot dog is, my mouth waters from the faint smell teasing my nostrils and my stomach growls loudly.
My cheeks heat up, and I quickly cover my stomach with my hands, as if it’s going to help with the noises, but thankfully Arson doesn’t notice it because he doesn’t comment.
I bet an asshole like him would have used this opportunity to mock me about my voluntary starvation too.
Glancing back at the town, I can’t help but be buzzed with the energy all around us that is so… powerful yet warm, like being here is where I belong.
The endless beauty of modern life that not everyone has the privilege of experiencing. I wonder how many people never know how all the cities they live in are a dream come true for some.
The car stops abruptly, and I lurch forward only to be snapped back by the seatbelt holding me.
Removing the hair from my face, I send Arson a glare, but then my eyes widen in shock when they land on his window.
Or rather the hot dog man looking at me weirdly, drilling his stare into me before shifting his attention back to Arson. “The usual?”
“Yes” is all he says, and the man quickly starts preparing a hot dog I assume, and I hate how all the smells of the delicious food slowly envelop me, making it almost impossible to breathe in the car without scenting the damn hot dog.
I’ll be lucky if my stomach doesn’t growl all the way at this rate.
The man sprays something red on it and then extends it to Arson, once again glancing my way. “One more?”
“No, it’s enough.” Arson gives him the money and takes the hot dog, while the girls I noticed earlier climb up on some statue, raising their hands in the air and tapping on the thing again.
My God but what is it? Is it some kind of game and this thing is a timer where they see who is the quickest to pose?
The man’s cheery voice snaps me back to my situation. “Are you sure you don’t want one more? They are—” Whatever he wants to say next stays a mystery to me, because Arson closes the window, not giving a shit about the guy—not that it surprises me much.
Apparently, Arson is not enough of an ass to talk about my hunger but asshole enough to eat food in front of me, because what else explains this stop on the way home, wherever that is.
But then he extends his arm and the hot dog is right in front of my nose, making my mouth water once again, and I do my best to ignore it.
“Eat.”
My mouth about hits the floor with this, and I barely manage to cover up my shock.
He bought this for me?
Why? Why would he do something like that? Is it a plan?
Monsters never do anything without an agenda, and they also are never nice. Why would he buy me a hot dog instead of using it to torture me? There must be a reason, right?
Since I’m still frozen, he opens his window again where the man smiles brightly, hope filling his gaze as he starts to talk about hot dogs, but I barely listen to him.
Instead, Arson informs me, “Either you eat it, or I’ll throw it away. Your choice.” He waits a bit before saying, “I don’t give a shit what your choice is going to be, either.”
Well, so much for thinking he cared about me or something, which is laughable really. It would have implied he has a heart, and men like him don’t.
I’m not one of those females who think they can change or tame the beast, because it’s impossible. The beast always, always rips you apart, leaving nothing but horror and pain in its wake.
It’s on
the tip of my tongue to refuse him, but another growl of my stomach changes my mind. Why not indulge in a food I’ve never tried before; it’s not like he can poison it now.
I nod and snatch it away before he throws it out.
“So which other hot dog do you—”
Arson slides the window shut, and I see the man probably curse out loud at us, his face all red in annoyance.
The car moves forward, passing through the busy streets before getting back on the straight road, and I notice how the city continues to be magnificent throughout with people mostly walking.
Can’t blame them; if I lived here on a permanent basis, I’d walk all the time too, drinking in the environment around me.
I take a bite of my hot dog, and the minute the flavor hits my taste buds, I groan in pleasure. I think I’ve never had anything this delicious in my mouth.
Chewing it quickly, I swallow it and prepare to take another, larger bite when Arson’s command makes me pause midway. “Careful. Small bites and chew them properly.” I look at him, but his eyes stay on the road as he navigates the car through various narrow streets, speeding up as the road becomes emptier with only grim buildings surrounding us.
In all my nirvana over the food, I must have not noticed how he drove us to the darker part of town where it seems no one goes out. I won’t be surprised if he lives here, a fitting home for him.
With a mouthful of bread, I ask, “Why?” This guy is unbelievable! Does he want to control how I eat my food too?
“You haven’t eaten properly in months.” For a second, I think something akin to concern laces his tone, but it vanishes with his next words, so I think I’ve imagined it. “I don’t need you sick.”
I listen to him and take a smaller bite, enjoying this food and hoping it can keep me full for some time. The last thing I need is to get sick and have Arson play nurse for me. God knows what he might do with me unconscious. At least before I find a way of escaping him.
“Would interfere with your plans, right?” My sarcastic jab doesn’t move him much though, because he just flashes me a grin, adjusting his sunglasses. And why does he need them anyway?
It’s dark outside!
“See, you can be smart when you want to be.”
“I imagine everyone becomes smart when their freedom is on the line.”
He shrugs. “I don’t know. You’d be surprised how many people just endlessly beg for freedom, without doing much to escape.” He does a throat cut motion around his neck. “And then bam, they are gone. Isn’t it tragic?” He tsks. “Nothing but ashes and blood remains.”
I almost drop the hot dog on my lap from his reminder of how easily he kills people and a little nausea hits me, while I want to spit the remaining food from my mouth.
Thankfully the thing is almost done, so I will myself to swallow before wiping my mouth with the napkin. “Are you always like this?” I suddenly ask, fed up with his mood swings in such a small amount of time.
“Like what?”
“Like… like… like….” I huff in frustration, sending my hair flying, because there are just no good enough words to describe his madness.
He chuckles, of course finding it amusing. “A serial killer vicious for the blood of his victims?” he supplies, turning abruptly to the left, and I slam against the car door, wrapping my fingers around the handle to protect myself.
“Yes,” I mutter, and he nods, speeding up so that the wind slaps me on the cheeks again. It brings much-needed relief to my heated skin that has become too sweaty in his presence.
I mean… who talks with a serial killer anyway? No wonder I’m frightened!
“Never claimed to be anything else.”
“I’ve never had illusions you are anything else,” I snap at him before crossing my arms and gluing my stare on the road ahead only to sit up abruptly, wincing at how the belt digs into my middle. I notice we are pulling up to a black brick fence surrounding endless-appearing land, because it doesn’t have a beginning or an end.
Instead, thick, iron gates connect it, giving a small glimpse inside where various lights brighten up the place.
Arson picks up the remote from the console between us, clicking on it, and the gates slide open then he flies through them right on the narrow concrete driveway with oak trees all around us.
The heavy branches almost brush against the ground with each sway of the wind, sending shivers down my spine as memories of Pastor’s mansion flash in my mind. He loved oak trees, but despite my love for nature, I can’t stand them as they always reminded me of “heaven.”
I scrunch my eyes, palming my head as dread slowly fills me at the prospect of facing another Victorian-style mansion that reminds me of medieval times with no way of escaping it.
My breathing heavies and sweat breaks on my skin, while I gulp for breath, but it seems to stick in my lungs. Just a little more and I can almost smell the—
The loud barking from afar snaps me out of my almost panic attack, and my eyelids flutter, giving me a clear view of something black running around from side to side on the spacious green field in front of me.
Only then do I realize that this place is nothing like I’ve expected when lights turn on the minute the car passes them.
Instead of gardens with various bushes, there is a green field with so much space that moonlight casts no shadow on it. The stars above almost make it look like it’s freedom in nature’s form. There are no alcoves, benches, expensive designs, or statues.
Everything that suffocated me back home… is absent here.
Behind all this space is a three-level modern house, I guess, because I’ve never seen anything like it before. Most of the walls are glass, giving a clear view of the inside of the house. It’s made out of deep-gray-colored stone with a heavy black main door.
The house has a rectangular shape, spreading horizontally. There are two balconies on the second floor, and the one on the third probably overlooks the entire property.
Must be Arson’s room.
The pool on the right side bubbles, the water shimmering brightly with a deep blue color almost calling to one to jump into it.
If someone showed me this house before, I’d never think a serial killer lives here; it’s probably straight from some magazine that shows how majestic luxuries look.
It must have cost a fortune—at least houses used to cost that much when we lived in Chicago. Dad always bitched to Mom that we had to live in a dump, instead of with his family, all because he couldn’t afford the larger house.
Which brings another observation. Arson is crazy-rich with unlimited resources. I don’t know what serial killer jobs pay these days, but then again there are a lot of psychos in this world.
Or maybe he has a day job I’m not aware of?
I continue to gape at it in shock as Arson pulls up by the door, turning off the engine and emerging from the car. The loud shutting of the door finally makes me sit up and take a deep breath.
Oh my God, what is going on here? Why can’t he just be some creep with an awful house that scares me to death? Not this thing that from the outside seems like the best freaking place on earth to be. Because in such a house, it’s impossible to have flashbacks about Pastor’s mansion or the lilies’ scent with a constant headache attached to it.
I almost fall on the ground when he pulls at my door, opening it wide and throwing his sunglasses to the side like they are nothing.
Maybe when you are this rich, you don’t value things at all, which for me is a bit hard to grasp, since in “heaven” we even had to sew the old dresses, as throwing them away was a waste. Even if the old dress was over a decade old, had three holes, and looked like we washed the floor with it.
“Are you waiting for a special invitation?” He must read the confusion on my face, because he bows a little and then gestures his hand to the side, sarcasm lacing his tone when he orders, “Get the hell out of the car.”
I do as he says, wincing a little when my bare feet touc
h the ground, but I don’t have time to dwell on it as a bear runs toward me at full speed, breathing heavily. His white teeth reflect the nearby light and scare me to death!
Crying out, I clench Arson’s shirt, hiding behind him while my whole body trembles in fear.
Oh God, he has bears on his property? What is he, a bear whisperer? “I can’t believe you have wild animals around,” I mutter, digging my fingers deeper into his skin when the slap, slap, slap on the grass comes closer and closer.
“Wild animals?” Arson laughs and clicks his fingers, whistling. “Ares!”
Without thinking, I slap his back, hissing, “Why are you calling him?”
But then loud barking sounds in my ears, and I peek around Arson’s arm, gasping when I realize it’s actually a dog with so much fur, and it’s huge! He must reach the middle of my thigh and weight the same as me. If the dog decides to make me his target, I won’t survive.
The dog stops at Arson’s feet, sniffing them a little before barking loudly and bumping me with his muzzle, then lightly licking my feet and sending tickling sensations through me.
“Ares, sit,” Arson orders, and the dog immediately obeys, watching us curiously while his tongue hangs from his mouth. Then his head turns to face me and I stumble back, slamming into the car door. “Do you have a vision problem?”
I frown. “No, why?”
“Because you mistook my puppy for a wild animal.” Amusement laces his tone, but his eyes and face stay absolutely cold.
How can one be so emotionless yet laugh at the same time?
“Now, if you are done with all this, get in the fucking house before I lose my patience.” With that, he walks in that direction, the dog trailing after him even though he stops next to me for a second, whimpering, but then rushes off to his owner.
Since Arson’s back is to me, I look at the narrow driveway leading to the road and note how everything else is surrounded with a fence.
If I try to run away now, will he catch me?
“The fence is electrified, so the minute you touch it, you’ll get hit by a sharp jolt of electricity. Try it if you want. It’ll be hilarious to watch,” Arson calls out without even sparing me a glance as he is almost by the door, fishing in his pocket for the keys.
Arson’s Captive Page 11