28. The Gift
Chapter 28
The Gift
I ’m back in my original room after that bizarre interaction with my stalker. He allowed me to sit in the stunning copper tub, until the water had cooled and all my muscles were jello. Other than the question that I asked him about letting me go, we spoke very little; he just mumbled words that meant nothing to me, and offered me no further insight into who he is. He handed me a bar of soap, and I washed myself under his scrutinizing gaze while still cuffed. When I was done, he lifted me carefully and gently out of the tub, and proceeded to dry me with a thick, fluffy towel, like one does a small child. I wanted to argue that I could do it myself, if he released my arms from the cuffs, but I was exhausted, and all the fight had left me. All I craved at that point was my own company, to be alone with my confused thoughts and fears.
Now, hours later, I’m lying on my back in the darkened room, going over everything that has happened so far, and what I know of my masked captor. I wrack my brain for answers on where I might know him from. Something about him seems very familiar to me. I don’t know if it’s the way he holds himself, his muffled voice, or the only parts of him that I have been able to see, his hands, eyes, and cock. I definitely don’t know him by his cock; that thing is enormous and filled with metal, and I would undoubtedly have remembered if I had seen it before. Not that I’ve seen very many in my twenty-seven years, but one like that, yeah, you’re not likely to forget. Maybe it’s his eyes, they too are as distinct as his cock. There are not too many men walking around with stunning gray eyes. In fact, I can’t quite place the last time I saw one.
This is hopeless; I doubt if I just asked him outright to remove the stupid mask, he would do it. I’m trapped in this room, in a house I don’t know, far from the city I live in, with a psycho who has drugged and abducted me. The question I keep coming back to is, why me? There is nothing special about me. How did I get this madman’s attention in the first place?
The door to the room opens without warning, allowing a sliver of light into the space before closing again firmly, and the soft footsteps across the carpet make his presence known. He stands next to the bed, a dark, ominous shadow, and instead of feeling fear, I feel relief at his presence. That alone should confirm that I’m losing my ever-loving mind. Is this Stockholm Syndrome, where I’m feeling affection for my kidnapper and abuser? I need to get my shit together and fight back against this monster, so I can regain my freedom, but right now, I’m so tired.
“I brought you some pain meds, and I want you to answer a few of my questions honestly.” I snort at his request; how very entitled of him. “I have nothing to say to you. You want to drug me again, asshole? No thanks, I’d rather not take anything you’re offering.” A growl greets the silent and subdued room, and I bite down on my lip and tense my body, awaiting his violence at my rejection.
“I’d rather not have to drug you, temptation, but I don’t want you to be in pain.” His voice is so deep and low that I almost don’t catch the last part of his statement. I turn over and stare at his large frame in the diminished light. He’s got to be over six feet, which puts me at a severe height disadvantage. The old saying, ‘The bigger they are, the harder they fall’, obviously that twat never had to fight a man-bear like this one. “Everything you do causes me pain. You stole me from my life and my family; that’s nothing but pain.”
A sigh is his only response as I feel the bed dip at my side, and I wrap my arms tighter around myself, and try to inch my body farther away from him. “Don’t run from me, I don’t like it.” Run? I would be lucky to make it two feet before he was on me. I know there is little to no chance of me escaping this room, and his clutches. Hopelessness fills me, knowing that what he told me is true; I will never leave here alive. “How many women have you abducted and kept captive?” I hold my breath, waiting for the answer that I’m sure will cement my future, or his refusal to answer, that will cause me further anxiety. Either way, it seems I lose.
“None. You’re the first I’ve ever abducted and kept .“ I roll my disbelieving eyes at his statement and search him out, and I find him rubbing his hand against his mask-covered jaw. A memory pops into my mind of earlier when I was tied down, and he was eating me out; I’m positive I saw dark and silver scruff on his lower face, and I know I absolutely felt it against my sensitive skin. He can’t be young then if he has gray hairs in his beard, despite his fit physique. Maybe he’s middle-aged? “I don’t believe you. You have definitely done this before.” I don’t bother to hide my accusatory tone; what would be the point? What’s he going to do, kill me faster?
It’s his turn to snort, and I feel his fingers trailing up the outside of my leg above the sheet. The sensation causes shivers to pulsate across my body, and I bite the inside of my cheek to stifle any of my sounds, and force myself not to pull away. I need answers, and right now, he seems willing to give them to me. “I didn’t say I hadn’t kidnapped people before, just that I hadn’t kept them. I’ve never felt the need to hold on to my victims until you.”
“So you’ve killed people before… women? How many have died at your hands?“ I push the words out despite the trepidation that is filling me. My brain is yelling that we don’t want that answer.
“Are you sure you really want to know, sweet temptation? Once you do, there is no going back from that; you will know exactly what kind of monster you’re dealing with.” His voice is solemn, and for a moment, I pity him. Is he lonely? He seems as if the weight of the world is on his shoulders. “Yes,” the word leaves my lips in a breathy whisper, as I face my fears head-on.
“I’ve murdered thirty-three people, men and women.” I scramble from the mattress, and tumble to the floor on the other side of the bed frame, with my heart hammering in my throat. Oh my God, he’s a serial killer! He doesn’t attempt to grab me, in fact, he doesn’t move at all, as he watches me panic.
“You’re a... “ I can’t bring myself to finish the sentence, as terror rides me hard and fast, and I see my death before my eyes. He’s not just some lonely psychopath, who has a hard time approaching women, or enjoys playing out some sick fetish. This man is a killer, and he obviously enjoys what he does; why else would he have murdered thirty-three people?
“Serial killer?” He shrugs his broad shoulders as if that term means very little. “I guess I am, but I prefer not to have terms like that define me.” He slides a small bottle of water, and two pills, across the top of the rumpled sheets towards me. “Take the meds, and I’ll grant you a few more answers, sweet temptation. They’re just over-the-counter painkillers, nothing that will sedate you.”
His gray eyes meet mine and my breath stutters in my chest. “Just so you know, not once has it ever crossed my mind to keep any of those people alive a minute longer than necessary. You are the exception to all my rules, the ones I seem to be breaking over and over for you, temptation.”
Do I trust that if I do as he’s requested, he’ll answer my questions? Can I even trust that he’s telling me the truth, and that these pills won’t knock me out, so he can have his way with me? He doesn’t need to knock you out for that, stupid. He can overpower you at any time, and do whatever he wants. Haven’t you been paying attention? My mind shouts at me. I reach forward and grab the pills and the water bottle, bring them to my lips, take a huge gulp of the water, and swallow them. The need to get answers to my questions overrides my good senses. “Why me? Why take me? To clarify; that’s one question, so don’t try to cheat me, asshole.”
He laughs, and the hearty, rich sound has my core tightening. “You caught my attention, sweet temptation. Once you did that, I couldn’t get you out of my mind.”
“Where? Where was I when I caught your attention?” My heart thunders in my chest, and a cold sweat breaks out across my flesh. I’m so close to having a panic attack right now. If he lunges suddenly at me, I don’t know what I’ll do. There is nothing in this room I can use to defend myself. My hand tightens around the plastic water bottle, right now my only pitiful source of a weapon.
“If I really wanted to hurt you, my sweet, there is nothing you can do to stop me.” He nods at the water bottle clenched in my hand. “I’m not here to cause you pain, at least not at this moment. To answer your question, you were working as a bartender at the strip club the first time I laid eyes on you.”
My limbs tremble as I realize I must know this guy. Is this one of the regulars I’ve served over the last year that I’ve worked there, or just some creep who came in once, and I caught his attention? “Take off the mask. There’s no need for it now; you and I both know I will never leave here.”
For a moment, I think he will reject my request and tell me that question time is over, but to my tremendous surprise, he reaches up, grabs the mask from behind, and pulls it off his face, allowing it to drop to the mattress, and exposing himself to me. My breath gets choked in my throat as I get my first glimpse of him, and I can’t believe my fucking eyes.
“Nic?”