Glancing at the clock, I know it’s about two hours before Parker lets me in, so I gasp in surprise when the door opens wide and she smiles brightly at me.
Too brightly. “Artem, here you are,” she says sweetly, so sweetly that sweat breaks on my skin and panic slowly sinks into me. I can feel the pulse in my throat while my mind searches for why she might be so angry.
I haven’t done anything, or is she still not in the mood from yesterday?
Usually after this client, she’s happy, because he is very generous. He not only leaves money for the Madam, but even for Parker separately along with some gift.
But she is never, never this happy or sad after him.
What’s going on?
“Come on in, honey.” She ushers me inside, hugging me to her hip while I almost shake with fear, too afraid to face whatever comes next, like the belt or even a cane.
She hit me on my back with those a few times, leaving deep bruises that wouldn’t go away for months, and it hurt so much I had to lie on my tummy all the time.
“Ah, darling, stop shaking. I went to the store this morning and look what I bought.” She motions to the bed and my eyes widen in shock when I see cookies, chocolates, various breads, sausages, and even a cake there! “It’s all so delicious—at least that’s what they told me.” She walks farther into the room and picks up something orange, and it take me a moment to realize it’s juice. “I bought you this.”
She looks at me expectantly and anger flashes in her eyes before she masks it again with a huge grin, so I quickly whisper, “Thank you.” But although I should be glad she finally bought food, I’m still wary to even touch it.
Why is she being so nice to me? There has to be a reason, right?
People don’t just become nice.
Even if the pastor in the nearby church who once gave me a muffin when I played outside assured me that with the right direction even evil people can see the light.
Knowing Parker, she’ll be an exception.
“You are probably shocked, you poor thing.” She pats my hair and then pushes me to the bed, so I have no choice but to climb up on it. “Eat, sweetie, before he comes back.”
“Who?” I ask, and then fist my hands in anticipation of her mood swing, but it doesn’t come.
Instead, she twirls her hair and tells me, “My client. He had a new proposition for Madam and she accepted.” She leans closer and taps me on the nose before pulling me by the cheek lightly. “And you gave him the idea.” My brow furrows at this, because I never discussed anything with him, but she is already straightening up, going back to the mirror to refresh her makeup. “And I received a bonus. If you play your cards right, we will be very rich and will get the hell out of here.”
“I don’t understand.”
She laughs, which only adds to my existing fear. “You don’t have to. Just be a good boy and do what they tell you to do.”
I’m even more confused with that, because I don’t know how to do anything. I don’t read or write, or even have any skills. I’m also the weaker kid out of all of them; they all joke my arms are so bony they might get crushed when someone pushes me too hard.
I bite my lip, worrying that she has some expectations I for sure won’t meet, and then she’ll be furious with me. If there’s one thing Parker hates, it’s upsetting the madam.
“Don’t worry, baby. Caspian got picked too along with Betty. You’ll be our trial program. You won’t be alone.” Relief rushes over me at the idea of my best friends joining with me, because then it shouldn’t be so bad, right?
I grab the cookie box, tear it open, and shove a few in my mouth, enjoying the taste of them and chew them fast.
I really hope I can do whatever they want, if it means Parker will be in a good mood and we might get out of here. Money makes her super happy.
If she is happy, there will be peace and no beating, and maybe she won’t ever say again my mom should have aborted me.
These words for some reason always hurt me, even if I didn’t know my parents.
“Okay,” I agree, and she chuckles, picking another dress from the wardrobe and putting it over her head over her nightgown. “It wasn’t a request, darling. You would have had to earn your keep at some point. Might as well be now.”
A loud knock echoes in the room, and she hurries to the door, bowing a little when she sees who came to us, and steps aside.
Madam, a woman with a wrinkled face, comes in wearing a purple robe with slippers that make a clacking sound every time she takes a step. “Madam, what brings you here?” Parker jumps to her, but the woman stops her with her cane, digging it into Parker’s stomach so she stumbles to the side.
“I’m not happy with you, Parker. You haven’t brought in much revenue this month.” Then she focuses her small eyes on me, cocking her head to the side while she scans me from head to toe. “So this is the boy.”
Parker straightens, wiping away a drop of blood on her lips, since she bumped into the wall, and nods. “Yes, he is pretty, isn’t he? And I know I’ve been slacking, but I promise to do better next month,” she assures her, but Madam doesn’t even spare her a glance, so she must not be impressed with her words.
Dread fills me, because I don’t want her angry. What if she kicks us out? I don’t trust my aunt to take care of me without any money; she’ll dump me somewhere, and I’ll be scared.
This is a bad place, but at least it’s familiar to me and I have friends here.
The outside world is too dangerous for lonely kids, or that’s what Caspian tells me his mom drilled into him, so we wouldn’t go outside alone.
Madam places her cane on my cheek, and I freeze as she presses it so hard I have no choice but to twist to the side, and then she does the same with the other, examining me it seems. “He is perfect, indeed.” She slides the cane to my collarbone, tapping on it painfully, but I hold back my wince, hoping she will let us stay. “Too bony though. We’ll have to feed them better from now on.”
“Of course,” Parker replies, rubbing her hands against each other.
“You go behind my back on this business deal, your body will be found in the Hudson River.” Parker pales a little, but she nods. “This market is dangerous, so keep your mouth shut and teach him to keep it shut too. I’ve already visited Caspian. His mom cried too much for my liking.” Her face scrunches in distaste. “God save me from loving mothers.” With that, she spins around and goes back to the door, but not before saying over her shoulder, “Eat well those cookies, boy. You’ll need all your strength to make you worthwhile.” The minute the door closes, Parker sits in front of me on the bed and stuffs my mouth with another cookie before I even managed to swallow the previous one.
“Listen to Madam, Artem, and we will have a new life. Away from here. I will buy you as much bread as you want.”
Hope fills my chest while the image of the boy reading a book while eating ice cream comes to my mind. If whatever I have to do can give us a shot at that, I’ll do it!
If only I’d known what the price was to pay for the cookies… I’d have barfed all over the bed.
Children are innocent creatures in this world who are dependent on their parents or guardians; they have no choice but to do as they are told.
Unfortunately for some of them, it means following the monster’s orders and allowing the devil to tear your soul apart.
Arson
When I walk inside torture room seven, my second favorite after number five, the music vibrates the walls. I click my fingers in time with it even though I fucking hate it.
But rock is the music of the gods, and I don’t want to remember this piece of shit whenever I listen to it.
The heavy garbage bag lies on the floor with a tight rope wrapped around it; it keeps on shifting, and whimpers can be heard from inside it.
I even notice a slight pool under it and shake my head, sighing in distaste.
For all the talk the asshole subjected my woman to, he clearly is a co
ward who pisses himself the minute someone shows him real power.
Why this fool even thought he had a slight chance of getting away from the club is beyond me.
“Marcello, Marcello,” I say his name, and he stops, only heavy breathing emerging from the bag. “There is no need to rush me. You will get everything I have planned for you.” A quiet chuckle slips past my lips when I kick the bag harshly, predicting it’s his spine, and his muffled cry of pain is music to my ears.
There is nothing in this world that compares to the cry of a victim, and don’t let any other serial killer tell you otherwise.
Whistling, I go to the weapons spread out on the metal table, each of the blades more beautiful than the other, showing me my reflection, as they’re made from the finest steel.
I ordered them myself after trying countless wrong ones, not getting wounds as deep as I craved.
Settling on the long blade with the razor-sharp edge, I slip it into the bag right around where his stomach is supposed to be, deep enough to nip but not bring any lasting damage, and I slowly rip the bag open.
Marcello rolls out of it, sweaty and wet all over with blood smeared on his face and neck. He is in slightly worse shape than I last saw him.
Ah, the guys must not have been careful when they dumped him here and left him rotting for hours.
Too bad none of his arms or legs seem broken; it’d be fun to twist it or cut it off completely.
What a pity, but I sure can find another source of entertainment.
“Please, she is lying.” He coughs on his blood, trying to prop up on his side, but his arms wobble. He hits his chin when he collapses back on the floor, his groan so loud it overpowers the music, and I frown, shaking my head in displeasure.
This won’t do it; the music is not loud enough.
Picking up the remote, I increase the volume and open my arms wide, letting each piano note wash over me and strip me bare, blocking away thoughts of Chloe who I left in my bed just an hour ago.
How she made me feel and how for the first time in my life I wished I wasn’t the monster she wanted to get away from. To prove her wrong.
In a short amount of time, I’ve become completely obsessed with her, but she will never accept a serial killer.
Yet serial killer is the only thing acceptable to me, because I won’t rest, won’t live or find peace without wiping the ground with my victims’ blood.
My hands are forever smeared in darkness. I gave my soul to it a long time ago, and unfortunately for Chloe, I’m not even sorry about my crimes.
Cracking my neck from side to side, I lock away thoughts of my beautiful woman who has no place in this fucked-up basement, where I’m about to do things she doesn’t even conjure in her nightmares.
“She has you fooled.” The idiot must take my silence as encouragement as he continues. “She was the biggest whore in town. Nobody wanted to marry her. I was just stupid enough to believe she was innocent. She bewitched me,” he finishes and then scrapes the floor, trying to sit up again and barely able to hold the weight of his upper body. “She was pregnant, and that’s why I wanted to marry her.”
“Marcello, you really are in such a hurry to die.” I sigh and spin around to face him, and his brows furrow, although he drops again to the floor with a loud thud, probably trying to understand my words. “Patience is a virtue though. Have you ever heard about that?” Once I press another button on the remote, the ceiling opens up, revealing the long chain slowly coming down with a collar at the end of it.
Grabbing Marcello by the nape, I drag him up until I can wrap the metal collar around his neck, clipping it loudly and enjoy when his eyes widen in pain as the sharp edges must dig into his skin.
It should draw some blood, making the wound infected and fester.
I’ve had enough such collars wrapped around my neck to know the outcome well.
Clicking again on the remote, I let it raise him enough so he has no choice but to stand, although he sways from side to side, holding on to the collar, trying to rip it off.
Devil, he really is an idiot.
“Please,” he says, blood dripping from his forehead to his cheek and lips. “I’m telling the truth.”
“Marcello, your voice annoys me, because whenever you spit bullshit, I just want to kill you.” He gasps in shock while I rub my chin. “And killing you fast is not on my agenda today.” With this, I decide to at least indulge in some of his cries before shutting him up.
Fisting my hand, I deliver the first blow to his face, straight to his broken nose, and he sways back like the bag in a boxing ring, his agonizing cry filling the space, and then I deliver another one, and another, and another.
Till his face is so smashed nothing remains but a giant bruise.
Walking back to the sink, I wash my hands carefully, not wanting any traces left of him, and then wipe them, listening to his little whimpers of pain. “The thing about fuckers like you, Marcello, is that you are all such cowards.” I put on my gloves, securing the leather around my wrists, and then slide my fingers over the weapons, wondering what to choose next.
So many possibilities, so little time!
“You create a kingdom around yourself with weak subjects, praying on innocent souls who can’t defeat you.” Wrapping my hands around the silver can, I take it along with the tape and go back to him, waiting till he lifts his face to me, murmuring something, but his lips are so swollen I don’t understand what he says.
Nor do I give a fuck.
“The minute you face someone with power though, you become nothing but helpless bitches who are ready to sell their soul if it ensures your safety.” Squeezing his chin between my fingers, I inform him with a huge grin on my face, “A coward is always a coward. You were never a king, Marcello.” His eyes plead for forgiveness, but he’ll find no such thing with me.
Second chances do not exist in my vocabulary, and besides…
The day I will ever pity men like Marcello will be… never.
And if I do… anyone from my circle has permission to shoot me.
Leaning closer to his ear, I tell him, “Now I’m going to show you what happens when a coward finally meets someone who has power.” And with this, I grip his head with one hand while with the other forcefully push the contents of the can in his mouth. Hundreds of poisonous worms, if not more, that will slowly make him suffocate to death.
Not right away of course—where would be the fun in that?
He thrashes in my hold, gagging, trying to push it out with his tongue, but I don’t let him. Finally, when they’re all inside, I quickly tape his mouth, so he has no choice but to choke on them or eat them.
If he wants to barf, he’ll have to swallow his vomit back too.
He chokes and chokes, his face becoming red while gagging sounds emerge, not that I pay much attention to that.
Instead, I grab the small chainsaw, the trrrr sound momentarily stopping his thrashing, and then he shakes his head, stepping back, but the chain pulls him right back in the middle.
“What was it you said to my woman?” His gaze flares at how I call her mine. Oh yeah, fucker. She is mine and only mine, and you dared to hurt her.
No one hurts what belongs to me without repercussions for their actions. “That she’ll choke on your dick.” I press the chainsaw to his dick, shredding the flesh while he whimpers loudly, the tears streaming down his cheeks mixing with all the blood.
Lifting it up, I ask, “This dick?” Then I drop it on the floor and step on it while he chokes, unbearable agony and despair flashing in his eyes. “Then what was it next? You will teach her obedience.” I grab his hand, and he pulls at it; however, due to his injuries and shock that runs his body allowing him to stay awake for all this, he is not strong enough against my strength. I place the chainsaw on his wrist. “Was it this the hand you planned to hit her with?” I cut it off, and it lands on the floor with a thud while he closes his eyes and whimpers. Then I grab the other one, asking, “Or this on
e?” I repeat the action and step back, enjoying the product of my creation.
It’s just the beginning of his suffering.
He hasn’t met my best friend, fire, yet.
I throw away the chainsaw and find the gasoline and lighters.
“Marcello, are you ready for more fun?”
He whimpers something, barely moving his head, but it doesn’t matter.
My laughter echoes through the space, forever filling it with misery along with Marcello’s cry that is laced with anguish.
For the rest of the night, I continue to use different torture devices on him, over and over, until I grow bored and there isn’t much left to do with his body.
When it’s all over, he still has his eyes open and breathes, albeit barely audible. With a wave to him, I click on the remote and let the chain drag back up, lifting him from the ground. The crack of his neck snapping from the weight of his body fills the room.
Ah.
The best sound in the entire world.
Callista
The first streams of sunlight falling on my face when I try to open my eyes blind me for a second and I groan, rolling to the side and burying my face into the pillow.
Instantly, the masculine scent hits my nostrils and a shiver rushes through me, nipping on my skin and reminding me of what happened in this room last night.
I lost my virginity.
And it was so beautiful I giggle like a little girl and burrow my face deeper into the pillow, tugging the blanket higher while turning on my back and then moaning when my body groans in protest, hurting in all the places I thought of.
Like after a long, sweaty workout in the gym.
“Silly girl,” I mutter to myself and blush a little at the prospect of facing Arson, but nevertheless wanting to see him in the morning light.
Last night was magical, and I’m so grateful for that, even if he is a monster who hunts in the night.
Maybe there might be redemption for him.
Even if he killed a man in front of me… wasn’t that man bad? Shouldn’t it count for something?
Arson’s Captive Page 23