Chapter 9 Kateřina
This can’t be happening! Why is he covered with blood, holding a fucking head in a plastic bag, and walking around the house as if nothing is going on?
“I asked you something. What the hell are you doing here?” he growls calmly, his gaze piercing and commanding.
“I couldn’t sleep,” I pant. “I-I asked you something as well …” I repeat.
He takes a deep breath and brushes his dark blonde hair back with his fingers, covering it with blood as well.
He looks disheveled, yet still classy, in his bloodstained white shirt.
His black tie hangs loosely around his collar, exposing his skin and a glimpse of his neck tattoos.
I hate tattoos. I hate smoking. I hate violence.
I hate everything he does and everything he is.
He tosses the bag with the head, and it lands near my feet. Oh my God! Is that the photographer who …?
“He won’t harm you or anyone else again.”
The men behind him are carrying something, also wrapped in a plastic bag. Is it his body?
“What have you done?” The words barely escape my lips. I’m suffocating, as if the air around me isn’t enough to fill my lungs. My pulse is throbbing in my temples, and my fingers are getting numb. My vision is blurry. I think I’m having a panic attack.
“Kate?ina?” He paces towards me.
“Get away from me!” I squeal, trying to push him away.
“Come here.” He pulls me into his arms, but I try to fight myself out of them. He’s a monster! How could he do that?
“I said, let me go!” I scream, yanking myself fiercely so he’ll let me go.
“Hey!” He grabs my face and forces me to look at him. “Calm down. You’re having a panic attack.”
My breathing grows shallower by the second, the air scraping at my throat as though it can’t reach my lungs. I don’t think I have control of my body at the moment.
He’s fucking covered with blood, and he’s touching me!
“Let me go!”
“Listen to me, goddammit!” He jabs into my cheeks with his fingers. “Look at me.”
My eyes lock on his, but I can’t focus on them. I can’t do what he says. My ears are buzzing, and my heart is racing. I am scared. God, it feels like dying.
“Rein it in, Kate?ina.”
“I … I can’t.”
His fingers twist my loose hair into a firm fistful and force me to look at him again.
“Tell me five things you can see,” he growls. What the hell is he asking me to do? I don’t respond. I feel that I can’t breathe at all right now. “Do as I say. Five things you can see.”
Involuntarily, my eyes dart all over the place, obeying his command. “Carpet, vase, plastic bag, roses, wall,” I say with one breath.
“Good. Now, four things you can touch.”
“Carpet, roses, wall …”
“And?” he encourages.
“And you.”
“Excellent, little rose. Now, three things you can smell.”
“Blood, roses, your perfume.”
My breathing is calming down slowly. The smell of cigarettes is noticeable, but it’s not unpleasant on him. It blends perfectly with his sandalwood cologne, making it barely noticeable.
“Great, now two things you can hear,” he whispers, leaning in and stroking my cheek with his thumb.
“My heartbeat and your voice.”
Suddenly, I feel lighter. My heartbeat slows, but it still pounds loudly. He’s close. Too close to my lips.
“Now, one thing you can taste.”
“I think—I think roses.”
A faint yet wicked smirk etches across his face, and he reaches for my hand. He slowly puts my fingers into his mouth and licks them. Why am I getting goosebumps?
Then he gently pushes my fingers into my mouth, making me taste the roses as well.
My eyes close as I savor his rose-flavored taste.
It’s euphoric. This taste has been carved into my mind, reminding me of the first time I spoke to him.
It brings back the memory of the facade of the gentleman he hides the monster he truly is behind.
He is everything I hate: everything I’m not and everything I’ve always wanted to stay away from.
He’s a fiend with a corrupted mind, blood on his hands, and darkness in his soul.
“Why did you do it?”
“Because he tried to hurt you.”
“It’s none of your business! You could have called the police!” I scream. “You didn’t have to …” My eyes drop to Elijah’s head, and I feel my breathing hitching once again.
He leans in closer again, nailing his eyes on mine. “You are mine, Kate?ina. Only I decide what happens with my property.”
I push him away. “Stop saying that! I am not yours, do prdele!”
How did I let myself be fooled by him? Now that I see him from a distance, I can see his true self again. I can see that he is the murderer.
“Hush, little rose.” He exhales. How can he be so calm? He takes his phone from his slacks pocket, and quickly, he texts something. What the hell? “Eleanor?” he yells.
“Don’t ignore me!” I push him again, neglecting the possible consequences that I faced the previous time I attacked him. “I’m talking to you!”
He clenches his jaw. “Don’t push me again.”
“Why?” I shove him. “Will you kill me, too?” I push again. “Do it! Kill me!”
Swiftly, he grabs my face and jams his fingers violently into my cheeks. “Kill you?” he hisses through clenched teeth.
He’s hurting me …
“As long as I stay here, I’m already dead.” My voice cracks.
“You have no idea what death means. But I’ll be happy to give you a taste of it if you don’t stop with that attitude.”
I grab his wrist in an attempt to loosen his hand on my face. He’s strong. Way too strong. Air rushes in harder, my nostrils flaring as I try to steady myself.
“I hate you.”
“Get in line.” He lets go of me and takes two steps back.
“Mr. Manson.”
“Eleanor, prepare some tea for my guest. She needs to calm down.”
“Yes, sir.” She nods. “Come with me, sweetie.”
“Eleanor?” he interrupts her. “Don’t forget to try it before you serve it to her.”
She nods again. “Of course, sir. I know the rules.” Try it first? Why? What is he suspicious about? “Come, dear.”
Cain puts his hands into his pants pockets and gives me an intense stare, waiting for me to follow Eleanor.
I guess I don’t have much of a choice.
I follow her into the kitchen. It feels like this woman lives in this room. She feels trapped as well. What if she is?
“Take a seat, dear. The tea is already ready,” she says with a sweet tone, stirring the pot.
I take a seat, darting my eyes all over the place. I need to watch my back. She pours the tea into two mugs and offers me one. “It’s chamomile.”
Hesitantly, I take the mug in my hands. It’s warm. She takes a sip of her mug, just like Cain commanded her. “It’s good,” she exhales. “Would you like some honey in it?”
I love honey in my tea, but if Cain suspects something about her, I should watch my back. Maybe she didn’t poison the tea, but the honey.
“I’m fine, thanks.” I smile awkwardly.
I take a sip from the chamomile and let it spread in my mouth before I swallow it. It tastes really good. How I wish I were in my bedroom in my old apartment in Czechia, sitting on the ledge near the window with a mug of tea in my hand, watching people walk down the cobblestone streets.
Normally, it’s exactly what I’d need this time of year. November is one of my favorite months—mildly cold, not quite winter yet, but far from summer. It’s also close to Christmas, when we always gather as a family.
I never got along with my family and always felt the need to oppose them.
Dad never loved me; I know that. He never loved me for who I am.
He always wanted me to be someone else, someone who fit his prudish mindset and wouldn’t be an embarrassment.
I don’t know if he’s incapable of loving in general or if it’s just me he has a problem with.
But I guess this Christmas will find me all alone in this huge place, being hunted down by a psycho.
Tears well in my eyes, but I need to stay strong. I need to stand my ground and steel myself.
Abruptly, she rests her hand on my forearm. I look at her. “It’ll be easier in time.”
“Does he keep you here against your will, too?”
She swallows. “No. Here is my home. Right next to Mr. Manson.” She sips her tea again.
“Why does he keep me here?”
She glances at me, understanding my despair. “I don’t know that. He doesn’t allow us to know more.”
She looks so apathetic. How can she be so calm, knowing what her boss is doing to people? And forcing her to try her food first? That means I can’t trust anyone here.
“Has he taken other hostages?” I ask.
“Never. You are the first one.” She takes one more sip and stands to wash the mug immediately. It’s as if she doesn’t want to reply.
“Is he a killer?”
“I believe that what you just witnessed was enough for you to know the answer to that question.”
“So, it wasn’t random,” I mutter to myself. “What does he want to do to me?”
She turns around and leans against the white marble counter, wiping a kitchen knife with a towel. I flinch in surprise. What does she want to do with it?
“Like I told you, you are the first girl he’s brought here.” She wipes it more profoundly and frantically. “I don’t know what he intends to do with you.”
My heart starts pounding yet again. She seems shady, like a lunatic. For some weird reason, she looks worse than Cain. Perhaps he’s the reason she’s like this.
“Why is he doing this?” I keep my voice low.
She leans in, widens her crinkled brown eyes, and gives me a piercing stare as if she’s a crazy woman. “Because he can.”
Shivers run down my spine as her glare remains on mine. I draw myself back. “No one is born a killer.”
“Hm,” she mumbles, turning around and facing the counter. “Mr. Manson has gone through many things. Things that change people.” She pauses as if contemplating. “And along with him, we all changed, too.”
I’m wondering what she is talking about.
“Why is she still here?” A man’s commanding voice pierces the air.
The man is huge, a bit shorter than Cain at around 6’1”, but more bulky and broad. He looks intimidating, too, though nothing compares to Cain and the coldness of his eyes.
Next to him, there’s another dude. He’s shorter and a lot thinner, but something about him makes him more disgusting than anything I’ve ever seen. His dark gaze scans me from head to toe, making my skin crawl.
“Landon,” she says sternly. “Mr. Manson said to drink some tea.” She leaves the knife on the counter.
“It’s time for all of us to return to our rooms,” Landon growls, crossing his arms.
“Mr. Manson …” she says, taking a few decisive steps closer to him. However, he snatches her, pins her against the wall, and sticks his gun in her belly. Oh my God!
“Mr. Manson left me in charge now, so you’d better do what I fucking say.”
“What will you do, big guy? Will you kill me?” she hisses back bravely.
Landon grips her bun violently in his hand. “Do not test me, old lady.”
He is violent towards her. Normally, I would try to defend her, but now my survival instinct kicks in, and all I want to do is stay out of this. I want them to let me out of it. The other guy looks at them with a weird expression, as if waiting for bloodshed.
Then, my eyes fall on the knife on the counter.
Quietly, I get up and take a long step toward the counter. I stumble but manage to steady myself by grabbing it before I fall.
“What the hell are you doing?” the guy barks, looking at me.
“I just stumbled.”
“Get back into your room!” Landon shoves Eleanor towards the corridor.
“You don’t—” she tries to oppose them again.
The man takes out his gun and points it at her, making her stop talking.
While both are looking at Eleanor, I manage to steal the knife and tuck it into the hem of my jeans, hiding it beneath my loose sweater.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Landon asks him.
“Making ourselves clear.”
“Put. That. Down.”
The guy’s gaze lingers on Landon for a few more seconds, and he eventually lowers his gun.
“Move,” Landon growls, shoving Eleanor again.
After giving him a furious glance and unable to oppose him, she walks away, and he walks right after her.
My heart is racing. I’m left with the weird dude. He prowls closer to me while holding the gun in his hand.
Shit …
My eyes drop to the ground as my back presses against the counter. He steps closer, staring me down. Clicking his tongue, he runs his gun through my hair.
“It’s late, doll,” he quips, tracing the muzzle over my cheek. “It’s not wise for little girls to stay outside their rooms at this hour. Listen to Uncle Bruce.”
His voice alone makes my skin crawl. And now he’s tracing a gun on my face.
“Then let me go,” I say through clenched teeth.
He chuckles. “I’m not your captor, love. Even though …” He presses the cold barrel of his gun against my throat, his lips curling into a twisted grin. “A woman like you shouldn’t be out there on her own. Too many monsters lurking around.”
I gulp forcefully. “Good night.”
He lowers his head, his gaze never leaving mine. God, he’s scary as hell. Without breaking eye contact, I slide away from him before marching straight to my bedroom.
I close the door and hear it lock, as though it’s part of an automatic security system.
Where the hell am I?