30. Santa
Chapter 30
Santa
W hat the fuck am I doing right now? I question myself, as I push the rickety grocery cart down the pet food aisle, while a shitty rendition of ‘All I Want for Christmas’ plays in the background. I grab various treats from the shelves, not having the faintest idea what a hellhound eats as a snack, besides small children, and the souls of those who displease him. I can’t believe I’m actually considering kidnapping that fucking beast to make Chrissy happy. I have to admit to myself that I have now sunk to a new low. One I didn’t think possible, considering I’m a serial killer.
It’s been twenty-four hours since I fucked her into the floor in her room, and she admitted to finding me ‘hot’. You would think, with that admission, and what we shared, it would have allowed us to get past the whole ‘drugging and kidnapping’ shit, but you’d be wrong. It seems my sweet temptation can hold a grudge like nobody’s business, and despite the fact that I could force her to be with me, I find that I don’t want to, much to my aggravation and disbelief. Chrissy hasn’t eaten or drank anything in over a day, refusing to touch anything I bring her. She also won’t speak with me, and flinches whenever I enter the room. I was losing my mind, and ready to pull out my own hair, as I watched her crying, huddled in a corner of her room, the pitiful sound breaking the heart I didn’t realize could feel anything for anyone.
“That’s a lot of treats; you must really love your furbaby!” A woman attempts to flirt with me, giving me a full body perusal, as she stops her cart and admires mine. I stare at her bleach-blonde hair in thick waves, and the pound of makeup caked on her face, as she attempts to look demure and bats her fake eyelashes at me. In the past, she would be an easy target, one I could use to soothe my bloodlust, but right now, however, only revulsion and annoyance fill me at the sound of her voice. “Unless you want to end up in his cage, fuck off and mind your business,“ I growl and keep moving, grabbing a massive bag of kibble and throwing it into the cart. I hear her gasp and the sound of her scurrying away. Goddammit, I’m losing my shit, and that’s fucking dangerous. I need to get my shit together before I end up behind bars.
My phone vibrates in my jacket pocket, and I pull it out only to see my brother’s number across the screen. Fuck, what does this asshole want now? Can’t I have more than one day without him or my father getting neck-deep in manure? “What?” I blare into the phone, and frighten another patron as they walk by.
“Wow, you’re in a very festive holiday mood. You do know tomorrow is Christmas, right? You better act right, or Santa will only leave a lump of coal in your stocking,” Micah chuckles, and I grip the phone tighter, wishing it was his neck.
I force myself to count to ten in my head before responding, and trying to calm the need to go murder my brother painfully. “What do you need, Micah? I told Dad I need a few days. I already have shit on my plate that has all my attention.”
A deep sigh sounds from his end of the line, and I hear his footsteps moving quickly across a hard surface. “Your shit wouldn’t have something to do with the pretty redheaded waitress that is missing from that diner, would it?” What the fuck? How would he know she’s missing? “What are you talking about, brother?”
“I went back to the diner yesterday, and it seems that the pretty redhead is missing, or so her crotchety coworker told me. She never showed up for work, and her roommate reported her missing to the police, not that they even took it seriously. I checked with one of Dad’s contacts at the closest police precinct to the diner, and it seems young women go missing all the time from that neighborhood, and very little is done about it. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?” His smug voice relays through the phone, and I picture stabbing his eyes out in my mind.
“Why would you go back there, Micah?” Furious rage soars through me, and I clench my hands tightly around the handle of the grocery cart, until the whole thing jolts and lifts off the ground at an angle.
“I wanted to see what was so special about her to have caught your attention, and not in the way you usually fixate on something, and honestly, I wanted to know if she was alive.” Motherfucker, I’m going to kill him. He didn’t go just to scope her out. The asshole is super competitive, and he went there to seduce her, just so he could serve that knowledge to me later. I breathe through my nose, compelling myself not to give him the reaction that he wants. Micah is like a shark when he smells blood in the water, and he won’t stop until he gets what he wants. In that sense, we are much the same.
“I don’t know anything about her being missing, and I haven’t seen her since the last time I ate there. Micah, I urge you to find something else more interesting to occupy your time, unless you would like me to make body parts appear as your Christmas gift.” The fucker’s response is to laugh at me, and not just a little chuckle. It sounds like he’s laughing so hard he can’t breathe. Asshole.
“Whatever you say, brother . Dad wants you for a photo op on Christmas Day, and he says it’s not optional. Don’t decapitate the messenger, oh and Nic, have fun with your little redhead, but make sure you don’t get caught with your pants down.“ He hangs up the phone before I can even respond, and it infuriates me further. Who does this little shit think he is, warning me about bad behavior? He’s the one always getting himself into scrapes I have to clean up. Oh, how the tables have turned, and I’m not liking it one fucking bit.
I pass the junk food aisle and throw a bunch of goodies in, hoping that something will tempt Chrissy to eat. When I’m approaching the checkout line, I spy a small Christmas tree display, all lit up, and a bunch of obnoxiously bright decorations in a bin. I’ve never decorated for any holiday at my cabin; I usually avoid them and the season like the plague, only participating in whatever my father forces me to. Would Chrissy like this? Would it make her happy to have a Christmas tree and presents? A part of me can’t believe I’m even worried about what my captive would like; it’s not like she should get an option. The other part of me is busy throwing the boxed tree and a bunch of ornaments into my cart, knowing I’ve completely lost my senses.
“Oh, someone is in the last-minute holiday spirit!” The elderly cashier exclaims, as he starts ringing in my items on the checkout conveyor belt. “You know what you’re missing, son?” He looks at me with excitement, and my eyebrow rises with curiosity, looking at all the useless shit I already have here. “Wine, boy, and some eggnog! You can find those in aisles four and seven. Go off and grab some, and I’ll start bagging your items while you do.”
I don’t even realize I’m following his instructions, and heading in that direction, until I’m entering the wine aisle and I come to a complete stop in front of the red section. I drag my hands down my exhausted face. I have no idea what kind of wine Chrissy likes, or even if she likes wine. What am I doing? Where is the psychotic killer that lives inside of me? Have I lost him somehow in all this mess, along with my mind?
Fuck it. I grab bottles of red and white wine, and head to grab the stupid eggnog. At this point, I may as well go entirely overboard into the realm of my insanity, where I play house with my kidnap victim.