Chapter 11 #2
I follow the GPS navigation to an apartment building that looks about six stories tall.
There’s visitor parking right out front, so I park and exit the car, walking swiftly to avoid being seen by anyone as I pull latex gloves on.
I’m wearing a hoodie, and thankfully, it’s cool enough at night right now that I won’t stand out if anyone does see me.
There’s a small set of steps to the front door where the intercom panel is. I press the button for 505, and only seconds later, the door buzzes and unlocks. Trusting fellow, isn’t he?
Unlike when I started these adventures years ago, my nerves are steady, my heart rate slow, my determination cold as ice.
Gage isn’t my usual target, but an abuser is an abuser in my book—whether their victims are adults or kids is immaterial.
As I climb the stairs, I consider my approach.
Once he sees my face, he’ll panic. He could be armed, so I’ll have to look out for that.
I make it to his floor and find his door ajar. Slowly, I peer inside. Finding the room empty, I step in. Soft music plays from down the hallway.
“In the bedroom,” Gage calls out.
Pulling my hood over my face a little more, I walk down the hall and slip inside. Gage is lying on his back, completely naked, his eyes closed. He has the survival instinct of a fart.
“Get naked,” he barks. “Then get over here and suck me.”
Well, at least he’s living up to my first impression of him.
Obviously, I don’t plan to remove my clothes. I approach the bed quietly, and very quickly straddle him, startling him into opening his eyes.
“Cute, but I said take your clothes off.”
I tug my hood back. “I don’t think so, Gage.”
His brow creases and I see the alarm in his expression. “How the fuck did you get in here?”
“You let me in.”
“No, I—” He closes his eyes again for a moment. “What do you want? Did you come to fuck me or something to throw your weight around?”
“I definitely didn’t come to fuck you. You disgust me. I know what you are, Gage. I can see it in your eyes.”
“What the fuck are you talking about? You don’t know me.”
“I may not know the details, but I know a lot of men like you. You’re so insecure and disgusted with yourself, you target people you deem less than you.
Weaker than you. And then you do, what, Gage?
You abuse them. I stopped you twice tonight.
Twice. What would you have done if I wasn’t there?
Would you have forced him? Hurt him? That’s what makes you feel powerful, right?
It makes you feel like a man, but really, you are nothing.
Absolutely nothing. And the world will be a better place without you. ”
He swallows hard, glancing at his nightstand, but his phone is pretty far away. “Do you want money? I got a safe with some cash in it.”
“I don’t want your money. I want you to die.”
Gage tries to move beneath me, but I’ve got his arms and legs pinned. His face turns red as true panic sets in.
“It sucks, right?” I lean closer. “Feeling powerless. Afraid. Wondering if this is really it. Well, it is. Consider me the grim reaper. You’re not going to hurt anyone else.”
“No! There has to be something we can do. Some other way to work it out.”
“Nope. Sorry. If it makes you feel better, it’s not personal.
You’re right—I don’t know you. For all I know, you might be a great son, a good friend, a generous brother, or a brilliant coworker.
I doubt it though. People like you keep other people at a distance. You never let them get close, right?”
“Who the fuck are you?”
“I’m karma.”
“I could scream, you know.”
“You could. I bet your neighbors would really panic too, given the nice thick walls in your fancy condo building. Or maybe they’d think it was just another wild night of sex for you.”
His brow creases. “Have you been watching me?”
“I’ve never seen you before tonight, but like I said, I know your type, and I can’t sit back and do nothing about it. Your kind can’t be helped. You can’t be saved. It’s just in you.” I pat his chest. “But don’t worry. We’ll get it out.”
Making sure to keep his legs pinned as he struggles beneath me, I yank his left arm up, reach into my pocket, and pull out a very sharp knife.
“I could rob you and make your death look like it was related to that, but that might garner you some sympathy, and you definitely don’t deserve that.”
Tears are streaming down his cheeks now, and his breathing grows heavy as he tries to buck beneath me. “Please no. Please. I’m begging you.”
“They always do. How many people have begged you to stop hurting them? Stop touching them? Stop breathing on them? How many, Gage?”
“Okay, okay, I’m an asshole, but I’ve never killed anyone.”
“Maybe not directly.” I slash the knife across his wrist, angling it away so his blood doesn’t get on me. “I could tell you the suicide and addiction rates of sexual assault survivors, but I think I’d just be wasting my breath.”
The pain seems to register, and in his eyes I see the moment he decides to scream and slap my hand over his mouth.
“Now, Gage, don’t make this harder than it has to be.” I reach over and pull open his nightstand, hoping to find something I can gag him with, but there’s nothing. Then I spot a pair of socks on the floor.
I’ll have to get off him long enough to grab them, but he’s not the first runner I’ve ever had. I lean over, attempting to keep my weight on top of him, but he does as expected and wiggles out from under me. I grab the socks and his ankle, before he can get too far, yanking him to the floor.
“Get the fuck off—” His words are muffled as I shove the sock so far into his mouth he gags.
Working quickly, I pull him back into the bed, slash his other wrist and sit on him while he bleeds out, his muscles and tendons exposed and raw like uncooked meat.
His eyes are panicked, and he fights as long as he can with useless hands, but he slowly loses strength as he bleeds out.
Once I’m sure he won’t be able to get far, I slide off him and look around his room. I open an armoire and smile. Jackpot.
He has a few baggies with white powder and some pills in them. Perfect. I carry the bag with the pills to the bed, grab Gage’s chin to pull his mouth open, and pour a bunch down his throat, forcing him to swallow them. He coughs and gags, but he’s already losing the battle.
“Asshole,” he mutters weakly. “I’m gonna fucking haunt you.”
I smile, patting his cheek. “Join the club. I hope wherever you’re going after this, it really sucks. I hope you feel nothing but the pain and fear you caused others. I don’t think you will—I think it’s nothing after this—but if there is something, I hope it’s that for you.”
I walk into his bathroom to look for razor blades. I learned that lesson a long time ago. If you stage a suicide there needs to be a convincing weapon nearby. There’s a package in the medicine cabinet, so I grab one and unwrap it before carrying it back to his bedroom.
Gage moans as I drag the blade through his bleeding wrist and place it in his hand. I really hope he’s thinking about all the things he’s done wrong while he’s dying.
I stay long enough to hear his last breath rattle out of him, then I do my standard cleanup, double-checking that I have everything I came in with, including anything that might have my DNA on it. Knife, check. Gloves on, check. Hood up so no hair shedding, check.
I leave his apartment as quickly as I came, making it down the stairs and into my car just as the sky is turning a lighter shade of gray.
I pull off my hoodie as I leave the parking lot and toss it into the back seat.
After driving for a few minutes, I pull over and hop out to open my trunk where I keep a change of clothes.
All I’ve got is a pair of black basketball shorts and a sweatshirt, but that will do.
I peel out of my clothes, including my shoes, and toss them in the trunk, then pull on the other clothes and a pair of sneakers.
A few minutes later, I’m back on the highway. After I take the exit for the winery, I notice an early morning bakery. I could stop and get coffee, and if I were in Illinois that might be a good idea, but right now, my best alibi is to get back to Nantes’s place.
I make it back as the sun is fully rising and slip back into the house. It’s still quiet, with no lights on. I creep to my room and slide between the sheets, pretending to sleep. Actually, I finally feel tired now that the restlessness and adrenaline are wearing off.
My eyes grow heavy, and I feel myself drifting to sleep. A smile tugs at my lips. I did good. One less abusive asshole on the streets.