Collateral Damage

C H A P T E R 7

C H A P T E R 7

MY INCONVENIENCE

Puppeteer

K ind ?

She must be joking. I am the furthest thing from kind. Moral maybe. And even that's pushing it. But kind doesn't sit in my vocabulary. The only kindness I give to the world is eradicating the sickness that's poisoned it, which still results in me taking lives and paying the consequences. Kindness never got me fucking anywhere but hurt . Kindness only granted me pain.

Kindness only made me realise I was weak. Being kind doesn't give you special treatment or help you avoid anything. The last time I was kind I got 10 lashings for using the last of the sugar in a birthday cake. That word makes my skin shrivel up like a decaying corpse. It's acidic in my mouth. I'm not being kind. I'm being considerate. There's a difference.

But I will only be so considerate taking into account the circumstances. I have to be careful what I do and say because if she does get out, she'll show them the first place to look and I can't be around. I'll finish what I started and do what I was meant to do before this inconvenience rolled into my life like an unwanted cockroach. She is nothing but dead weight and I'll be glad to get rid of her, I just need to sort some shit out first.

Who knew babysitting was so tiring. She's a toddler in an adults body. I'm so glad I was an only child so I didn't have to deal with this shit. Shep is enough when he’s having a tantrum. She's young enough to be a sibling but fuck it's been a while since I've seen some skin and my eyes have a mind of there own watching her rub her skin of my touch, it makes me want to touch her again, grip tighter so she remembers who and what I fucking am. The last thing I want is for her to get comfortable, but I don't exactly wanna kill her either, that would just go against everything that I am. Or I'm trying to be .

I just need to wait it out until my next port of call is secure. I have contacts but they aren't exactly clean and the last thing I want is to drag them into my mess and get them thrown behind bars again.

She turns the lever, quivering as the cool air catches up to her now that she's used up all my bloody hot water. Scowling at me with dead eyes, eyes that are telling me a million different things. She hates me. Good . She should. I did just murder her parents in cold blood so she's being fairly compliant considering. But I can tell she's not a fighter, she doesn't even have a backbone. She screams kindness and I hate it, it means I have to match it and I won't, which means I will just push her to fight me and she will only hate me more.

The absence of heat directs my eyes to the one place they shouldn't and I'm no better than a man but fuck , the outlining of her tits against my soaking T-shirt is making me realise I haven't got laid in a long ass time. Far too fucking long. I've been so caught up in finding her Daddy that indulging in pussy hasn't exactly been on my to do list. I've no interest in sex beyond numbing my mind. Prison wasn't exactly a strip club but I still got it. I was nearly caught a few times but that was the thrill of it, I had nothing better to do and it helped my brain stop thinking for a while.

She's looking at me in complete and utter distress right now. I will not take my eyes off her, admiring her skinny little figure, plump in all the right places, so breakable. Focus Hays . I’m fixated on her in case she tries anything stupid and she needs to change out of her wet t-shirt but she has nothing to change into. Lucky for her I was already two steps ahead. I nod my head towards the door gesturing for her to exit, as much as I love listening to people plead for their life, the bathroom holds enough of that.

“Move.” I order, becoming impatient as she creeps towards me, her light feet patting the solid tiles. I grip her moist flesh, still caked in water that has not evaporated yet making it a little trickier but her arms are so small my thumb and middle finger are still touching. So dainty and frail I could snap it, that would solve another problem. If she only has one arm in operation on top of her severed leg there ain't a hope in hell she would try to run, but I always love a good chase and I'm not against being threatened by the idea, just to see how much fight she has in her.

We convert to the bedroom and I watch as her eyes dilate, glaring at her clothes on the bed, clothes I took for her.

Considerate .

I know she wants to say so much but she isn’t, she’s frightened. I don't even know why I did it. Guilty conscience I guess, and I can't be asked to explain when even I don't know.

I know there is nothing in this room that will benefit her impending escape plan and I could just lock her in and leave her to it but I don't really want to leave her to her own devices in my room right now, without restraints, so I face the door allowing her to change.

“Now what?…” She whispers, uncertainty riddling her voice. I don't respond, only peering down at the bed before pulling out the metal cuffs. Her eyes gloss over but I shove my guilt down. It won't have to be like this forever if she works with me, but I cannot be sure right now how her brain works and how smart she really is. Behind her puppy eyes, those god damn doe eyes I keep finding myself staring into, she could be a mastermind, so a locked door is not enough to ease my mind while I'm out on errands.

She does as she's told, lying back on the bed like a good girl wearing a turtleneck sweater, it's black and frayed at the cuffs. She's a chewer . I tug the fabric over her wrist before cuffing it to the bar above her, her natural odour wafting under my nose as I tower over her vulnerable body. I decide against both wrists and I hope for her sake I don't regret how considerate I'm being.

I pull away from her and her stomach growls in response. I fight back a smile, or even worse a laugh. My Puppet is hungry, and feeding my victims isn’t exactly where I thought this would go, but she’s looking sorry for herself and giving her something to munch on is the least I can do after what I have put her through. Not that I give a shit personally, but I'd rather she didn’t starve to death under my roof. She won’t look at me but she knows I heard that too and there is heat illuminating her pale complexion.

I step back, making my way to the kitchen where I shuffle through the cupboards. I barely eat myself; I usually eat on the go when I’m out and about so there is fuck all in the house but I stumble upon a packet of twinkies I got last week. I don’t care if she doesn't like them. She’ll eat them if she’s hungry enough. She side eyes me as I block the door frame, leaning into it before lobbying them in her lap.

“Eat.” There is a little humour behind this, but I remain straight faced, laughing on the inside, cocking a brow as she poorly attempts to open the packet with her free hand.

“You’re cuffed. Not disabled. Use your mouth,” she glares at me in disgust before using those brain cells and biting the seam open. Maybe she is not as smart as I thought. What an idiot.

“I’m heading out. I will be back in a few hours. Don’t do anything stupid.” That look of sarcasm rolls her eyes, like she could do anything stupid cuffed to a bed in a locked room, but it amuses me all the same. She’s a plaything. My plaything. And if she rolls her fucking eyes at me I’ll give her a real reason to roll them.

“Where?” She is asking like a psycho jealous girlfriend. Does she really think I'm going to disclose that sort of information when I've known her for not even 24 hours? I step slowly inside the room until I'm invading her space, the dampness of her hair thick within the air surrounding her. Bending to her level until I'm inches from her face, I whisper through gritted teeth as she peers up at me.

“The pits of hell…” The sun slips through the cracks, highlighting the honey glow beneath her timid eyes. The colour is one I've never seen before, the deepest field of sunflowers you could get lost in, a golden compass, a compass I'm slightly worried will deter me away from what I need to do, leading me in a different direction, one I do not want to follow as I find myself staring a little too long.