Arson’s Captive

by Mason , V. F.

After all the extravagance at Pastor’s home, this is like a breath of fresh air where I won’t have nightmares from the statues staring at me, or the china and carpets being so expensive I was afraid to damage something.

  There is an arch to the left and I decided to follow it as the delicious smells of something unfamiliar float in the air, and I blink in surprise when the kitchen comes into view.

  It’s oval-shaped with brown furniture filling the space from the upper cupboards to the lower ones, coupled with an oven that is big enough for baking anything anyone wishes. There is an odd machine next to it that doesn’t look familiar and then a huge silver refrigerator.

  All the kitchenware showcased on the counter shines so brightly that one probably can see their reflection in it, and the arrangement is finished by the rectangular table that is stacked with food.

  From toast to fruits to eggs.

  Yet there is not a soul in sight who could have prepared it all.

  Where is Arson?

  But then another thought flashes in my mind, sending my pulse racing while hope blossoms in my chest.

  If he is so sure I won’t escape… does it mean he left me alone in the house with…?

  I rush toward the kitchen, opening drawers and shuffling through the silverware until I find a knife.

  Wrapping it in my palm, I almost kiss it, then dart toward the door, still seeing no one in sight.

  I can’t believe he left me here alone!

  Coming to the main door, I peek through it, glancing to the right and left, but I don’t find anyone.

  Even the scary dog is not here, and I almost shout hallelujah, taking off in the direction of the gates, my bare feet freezing from the cold concrete, but I ignore it, too happy to even care.

  Concentrating on the inner voice inside me that shouts to get the hell away before the monster comes back, I know that in the wild I have a better chance of survival. He can reassure me until he turns blue that he won’t harm me and I’ll have my freedom at the end of all this, but I know it’s a lie.

  He will either keep me or feed me to the wolves; that’s all beasts do with women like me.

  All I need is the chance to get back on the road and for someone to see me. He might be invisible, but surely he doesn’t want to cross paths with cops, right?

  My breathing heavies, the frigid air almost sticking in my lungs, but I continue running like thousands of dogs are chasing me, and in a way they are.

  After all, I’m escaping from hell while the devil isn’t watching.

  Arson

  My sneakers hit against the concrete accompanied by Ares, who runs right along with me, his heavy paws leaving footprints in the grass.

  Shaking my head at the stupid pup who should be resting after he ran into the electric wire yesterday, I speed up my movements while controlling my breathing and enjoying how it all brings me much-needed peace of mind.

  Open space, no fucking gardens around me, and with my captive safely at home.

  “Someone, help us!” I recognize Betty’s voice. She must be trying to turn the doorknob. “The door is locked! The door is locked!” She sounds terrified. I try it from my side, but no luck comes before another set of screams fills the hallway. I realize women are still present on the floor, screaming one after another, creating even more panic as they trample the ones who have fallen in their hurry to escape.

  I stop abruptly, getting down on the concrete, and start doing push-ups one after another until the thoughts of that day disappear from my brain and give me reprieve from the insanity that rules me.

  Such as the beautiful and stubborn captive who made me come to Lachlan’s mansion at the first crack of dawn and leave past midnight, because I couldn’t trust anyone safeguarding her.

  After all, a true hunter always watches his prey, so other predators won’t sniff around her and decide to take her.

  And if they do, I’m always ready for a fight.

  One, two, three.

  Complete blank state, which allows me to take a deep breath into my lungs and welcome the frigid air, cleaning me from the memories of the past.

  I jump up and continue to run from the back of the house, quickly scanning for any danger and not finding any, which once again eases my mind.

  I have security in this place for any kind of danger, but there is nothing like checking on your own land. I may be an arrogant asshole at what I do; after all, I’m one of the best serial killers you don’t ever want to cross.

  But even I’m not stupid enough to think we are invincible and that enemies won’t come knocking on our doors.

  They might; they might not.

  The point is to always be prepared for that. Because even the best of friends have the tendency to betray one another.

  Once I’m closer to the front door, I snag out my headphones and wrap them around my neck, holding out a splayed palm for Ares to come and lift his muzzle into it, allowing me to pat his head.

  When Lachlan offered me a puppy, I laughed in his face and wished him good luck with them; served him right for keeping Chance to himself when I told him not to.

  Dogs get too attached to their owner, and if something happens to me, I don’t want it crying over me. They are so innocent, compared to us humans, that bringing them grief is truly cruel and unacceptable to me.

  But the fucking joke was on me, because Lachlan dropped the pup at my doorstep with a happy birthday note, even though he doesn’t know when it is.

  Nor do I.

  So here I am stuck with a pup who thinks I hung the moon and stars as he always gazes at me with adoration in his eyes.

  Fuck me.

  A vision in silver catches my attention from the corner of my eye, and Ares tenses under my touch. He growls, sniffs the air, but then barks, the relaxed expression back on his face. “You leave the house for a run, and the captive already tries to escape.” Ares cocks his head to the side, giving me a confused stare. “She probably didn’t even eat.” He barks. “And I’m the bad guy.” He barks again before dropping on his belly, sighing heavily like he shares my displeasure. At first, I hoped to train him to be a guard dog, considering his breed is famous for being excellent swimmers, but the pup shows barely any interest in anything besides sleep, food, and play.

  Yet for some reason, I’m still keeping him.

  Fishing for a cigarette from the back of my pants, I light it up, inhaling a greedy puff of smoke before exhaling it in the air, as I stroll toward the gates where she ran.

  I’m a bit disappointed she chose to run away like a coward when no one was watching, sad to say I expected better. However, desperate times call for desperate measures, and she grasps opportunities when she sees them. Can’t not congratulate her on that.

  I come in time to see her eyeing the fence, examining the wires all over, and she picks up a branch from the oak tree, poking the fence and stepping back only to gasp when it shocks the wood.

  “He didn’t lie,” she mutters, and I take another pull, wondering what she will do next.

  Maybe burst out crying at the injustice done to her, and how the big bad wolf awaits her back at the house.

  Even Ares makes no sound, staying still as if interested what she will do next.

  But to my surprise, she comes back to the fence and places her hand on the places where the wire is not present, and she starts to follow the path leading to the far-right corner where the electric dashboard is located.

  Ah, smart girl. Thankfully they haven’t managed to erase her brain in that fucked-up place.

  I slowly go after her, my footsteps soundless on the grass, and with one look from me, I order Ares to stay put.

  I’m too curious to see what my captive will do to interrupt her with our intrusion.

  Chloe reaches the main dashboard, opens it up, and then frowns when she sees countless wires attached to each other without an explanation of what they are.

  Only then I notice the silver flashing in her hands, a kitchen knife and not the best o
ne at that, as she slides it over the wires, probably wondering which one to cut first.

  Well that puts an end to this hilarious escape plan.

  “Not that it’s not amusing as fuck to watch, but I paid over a million dollars for this security, and a kitchen knife is not going to cause it any damage.” She jumps at my voice but stays still, her stare glued to the dashboard, but then she rolls her shoulders, turning her head to me.

  Only then does the full impact of her emerald eyes hit me hard, presenting her in the morning sunlight that only enhances her beauty.

  Her blonde hair falls down to her ass in heavy waves, almost like silk, while the shirt barely covers up her ass, bringing attention to her bare legs.

  They are already slightly red from the cold, and I growl, not liking the thought of that. She is my fucking captive, and this means she doesn’t get to hurt what belongs to me.

  “Let’s go home, Chloe,” I tell her, exhaling the smoke, which creates a cloud around me, but even through that I see the shake of her head.

  “It’s not my home. I’m a prisoner!” she shouts and then blinks, before shouting louder this time as if trying to make someone over the fence hear it. “You are keeping me here by force. You are a monster!”

  I roll my eyes at all these words, because I’m so fucking fed up with it. It has been three months; how many fucking times does Chloe plan to use the word monster on me?

  “There are no people in the neighborhood.”

  “Why should I trust whatever you say?” She flips her hair over her shoulder, issuing me a challenge with her stance while still not moving. “Maybe you want me to believe that! So I wouldn’t do this.” She gulps for breath and screams, “Help! Somebody, please help me! Help!”

  Throwing the butt of the cigarette on the grass, I step on it and twist it for good measure. Then I dart toward her, and she takes several steps back, holding the knife in front of her, and hisses. “If you take one more step in my direction, I swear to God I will stab you with it!” She extends her hand that trembles so much the knife is almost out of her palm, but she keeps her resolve. “I don’t care if I kill you.”

  “Yeah, good thinking. It’s stupid to care about things that will never happen,” I inform her right before snatching the knife from her hands and throwing her over my shoulder, her head hanging over my back.

  Dropping the knife on the grass, I stroll back toward the house all while she hits me over and over again, wiggles on my shoulder, and even tries to kick me, albeit unsuccessfully. “I hate you! I hate you! Let go of me, you… monster!”

  A slap echoes in the garden when my palm connects with her ass, and she freezes, her audible breathing the only sign she hasn’t passed out from shock. “Behave, Chloe. And come up with a different name for me while you do that.” I resume my walking, reaching Ares, who wiggles his tail and follows us, barking behind me, probably playing with Chloe, because she squeals and then yells.

  “Tell your dog to stop trying to bite my hair!”

  “Wait till we get home. He will lick your face.”

  She delivers a harsh hit to my spine, and I cough at how fucking painful it is. A man can rarely bruise me, so how the fuck did I feel her small fist? It’s like she pressed her fist into the deep tissue of my lower spine.

  She must guess my confusion or maybe she felt me tense, because she announces smugly, “Back in ‘heaven,’ I was an herbalist and healer. I know human anatomy better than you think.” She lowers her voice as if threatening me. “I know how to kill you easily too.”

  A grin pulls at my mouth as I enter the house, the warmth greeting us, and shut the door after Ares flies through it, dropping onto his favorite seat and sighing in pleasure.

  Throwing Chloe on the couch where she lands with a loud yelp, I tell her, “Why don’t you brag about your serial killer skills while we have breakfast. I can share some of mine.”

  She quickly sits up, removing her hair from her face while fury flashes in her face. “I don’t have serial killer skills! Don’t compare me to you!” Then she sends a wary glance toward Ares. “Is he dangerous?”

  I shrug, going to the kitchen and pouring myself some coffee. “Do you generally dislike dogs or just my dog? I gotta tell you, in the real world”—I point at the window with my thumb—“people have issues with those who don’t like dogs. Keep that in mind while you dream about your great escape.”

  She huffs in frustration, jumps up from the couch, and storms into the kitchen. “I have no problem with dogs. But you teach yours to kill people!”

  I chuckle at this, putting a cube of sugar into my cup, and drop onto a chair. “He is a puppy. Trust me, he hasn’t had his first kill yet.” She opens her mouth to add something, but my raised hand stops her. I point at the chair opposite me. “Eat breakfast.” I wiggle my finger when she looks about to protest. “This is part of the agreement. Do as I say.” For a second, her eyes narrow stubbornly, but she exhales heavily and does as I ordered.

  Placing my mug aside, I pick up a piece of toast and apply jam to it, all the time watching until she huffs again, picking her own piece but choosing butter instead.

  I wait till she has her first bite of the toast before announcing, “With all the bullshit out of the way, let’s talk about your freedom.” Her lips clamp around the bread, her fingers almost creating a hole in it she squeezes it so hard in anticipation of my words. “Aren’t you curious what you have to do in order to earn it?” Devastation passes in her eyes before she covers it up with interest even though I see hatred reflecting back at me for my choice of words.

  And part of me—the part I thought I’d long ago buried in the pits of hell from where I barely managed to pull myself together—rages at how I behave.

  Freedom is our given right.

  Yet some monsters trap people and angels, thinking they own them.

  Ironically, I’ve become one of them, and the most hideous part about it?

  I have no intentions of ever letting her go.

  I might give this angel her wings back, but she’ll never be able to fly to heaven with them.

  She’ll be forever trapped with the devil.

  Callista

  I’m such an idiot. I should have stabbed him.

  I hesitated just for a second, and I’m back inside this house while he dangles my freedom as if it’s his to possess.

  I want to throw my toast at him and scream once again in rage over all this, but I’m done acting like a child.

  Arson is a serial killer who thrives on bringing pain to his victims, yet he’s stayed almost civil with me, keeping his word on all accounts so far and didn’t visit me last night.

  So, as humiliating as it is right now to listen to his orders, I’ll do it and get my freedom once and for all. No more running away or being difficult; it only prolongs the inevitable process that brings me no results.

  So, mustering all my courage and calmness learned by years of obedience under Pastor’s abuse, I say with an even tone, “I am. Please tell me.” The words taste like acid, but I still push them out of my mouth. “What is it that you want from me?”

  He chews his toast agonizingly slowly while prolonging the silence that should grate on my nerves. But instead, I pay attention to his messy bun and the vein pulsing on his neck that slides toward his tattoos that his black T-shirt hides.

  His presence is so huge, yet he looks ordinary in this kitchen, eating without a care in the world and not sending out any dangerous vibes.

  In fact, he could be gracing the covers of magazines with the masculine handsomeness he presents. I’m sure women would go crazy over him.

  And somehow just thinking about it sparks rage inside me, making me want to smear him in dirt so no one within miles would want him.

  Callista, you are an even bigger fool than you thought.

  My brain has no mercy for me though, because it chooses this moment to remind me about my dream when my gaze lands on his firm hands gliding the knife over the toast again.


  In a dream where he used his hands to….

  The blush is spreading through me, burning my skin and no doubt turning my cheeks red while hotness envelops me, making it hard to breathe for a moment.

  I can’t believe after the earlier scene I’m able to feel… this. Whatever the hell this feeling I’m experiencing in his presence that sends me in a spiral of madness around him is called!

  Stockholm Syndrome will not rule my body and dictate my emotions toward him; I won’t for a second forget again who I’m dealing with here.

  Finally, he speaks up, but he might as well have hit me with a baseball bat when he announces what he wants from me.

  “We have to show the world that you are mine in order to lure the beast out.” He waits a bit before continuing, paying no attention to the shock that probably shines on my face. “Blonde women are his weakness. You’ll be a perfect decoy to end him once and for all.” A beat and then, “The fucker doesn’t even know what waits for him.”

  The knife slips from my fingers, clattering loudly on the marble floor, and the sound echoes in the otherwise silent house.

  Another place, another bad guy.

  Yet he seeks the same thing from me as the previous one.

  Use me for his own agenda in order to lure another man for his own gratification.

  All my earlier thoughts vanish from my mind and I get up, the chair scraping loudly against the floor as I grab the glass of water in front of me. “I’m not a whore or a toy that you can use.” I throw the water in his face, watching it slide down his forehead and nose, dripping on the floor while he stays unmovable, his hawklike eyes trained on me, but I don’t give a shit.

  Who does he think I am? “Freedom is my right as a human being, and if you think I’ll sleep with some man so you can kill him or whatever, then you have another think coming!” I scream the last part, ignoring the soreness of my throat, powering through on the adrenaline rush alone. “I will get away from you even if I have to kill you. But mark my words, Arson,” I say, plastering my hands on the table with a loud slap and leaning toward him, “I will not stay your captive. You can choke on your proposition. Do you hear that?”