14 Liam
It has been a week since I started stalking Mary. A week of waiting for an opportunity that would save her life—one that never came. Mike’s mind simply didn’t change, and now I find myself in the back of the usual white-colored van while we drive the familiar path to her house.
Nathan is sitting in the driver’s seat, his eyes locked on the road as we drive toward Mary’s house.
I know this route well. I have been doing it for a week, with a few detours that the guys don’t know about.
If it was crucial for me to keep Jessica’s existence from them before, now it is even more so—because Mike has literally gone off the rails.
It wasn’t that big of a leap from his usual mad-driven self, but now he simply doesn’t care.
He only wants one thing: blood. And even though I know he wants Mary’s blood spilled, I am not quite sure whether that will satisfy him.
Over the past week, both Nathan and I have tried to change his mind.
We had countless conversations with him.
I even tried once to plead to his younger self—the one who grew up with a woman who looked exactly like the one we are about to kidnap now.
That went as well as you could imagine. I am not even sure why I tried, since his desire to kill her stemmed from that point in his life anyway.
I think in my sleep-deprived delusion I had considered the possibility that a shred of love remained in his heart for his mother, despite her cruelty and bad memories.
It hasn't. His heart is black, if he still has one.
We park right outside. My cousin and I move quickly as we exit the vehicle and run through her yard.
I lead the way, and he follows close behind.
I know exactly where to step to avoid the security cameras she had installed a few days ago, when she thought someone was in her yard.
Some people would call her reaction a little paranoid, but there was indeed a strange man in her yard.
He was watching her every night, and Mary somehow knew.
I wonder what I did wrong this time, since none of the other women had figured it out before.
Is this woman simply a little more aware of her surroundings, or is my obsession with Jess clouding my judgment?
I guess the answer to that will always remain a mystery, since this woman isn’t going to live past dawn.
We reach the door, and the plan is simple: Mike is picking the lock—a skill he picked up years ago—and I have my gun in my hand.
I never actually use it, and honestly, it doesn’t even have bullets in it.
I never load the gun because I never intend to take a life.
The night I do, I know it will be the end for me.
It will be the night that the one shred of humanity I have left finally vacates my body, and I will be as much of a monster as the rest of them.
The black ski mask against my skin seems to take away the air from my lungs, and as Mike tries to unlock the door, I lift it from my face.
It’s not like she will live to tell anyone what I look like.
None of them get out alive anyway; there is no reason to keep them on.
But for this part, it is safest to do this.
I am aware—I came up with the damn rules.
We wear the masks in case we missed someone living with them, or someone sees us during the kidnapping.
However, this time everything feels entirely wrong. “Put the damn mask back on,” Mike growls from the ground as the lock finally makes a ‘pop’ sound and the door unlocks.
“Why do you care all of a sudden?” I argue at a whisper level and lower the mask back against my face. Why do I even care? Perhaps if we get caught, this paranoia we live in will end. It doesn’t seem like such a bad thing anymore.
We walk inside with slow steps. I go in first, and Mike follows, just as we did when we crossed her yard.
We don’t need to go far into the house, though.
Mary is sleeping in the same spot where she reads every night; a glass of wine is tipped over on the floor, and the red liquid is spilled all over the white carpet.
Her book is on her lap, and now, watching her up close, I can see how much she looks like my aunt.
It’s the same shade of dark hair, pale porcelain skin, and delicate features that remind me so much of my childhood.
I struggle to conjure any bad memories of the woman I used to know.
I need them to help me through this, because the ones clinging to my mind at the moment make me entirely too sympathetic toward Mary. And we can’t have that.
When I turn to look at my cousin, I notice Mike’s expression; he seems frozen in place, his eyes stuck on her face as well, and he is holding his breath.
Suddenly, I am not sure the man who is bloodthirsty and driven by the adrenaline of the hunt stands beside me.
I think the boy he once was has taken his place.
I almost feel sorry for him. But we came here for a reason, and now we are far too deep to back out.
“Come on, snap out of it!” I tell him, and he shakes his head, trying to bring some sense back to himself.
He rubs his eyes and blinks rapidly until he seems to be back to his usual self.
We don’t have much time for this. We need to do this now and fast, before one of her neighbors decides to call the police.
They live too close for my liking; usually, I prefer to kidnap women who live in places that are further from any neighbors.
However, this time the target wasn’t negotiable.
So I walk toward the woman, putting my gun in my waistband and replacing it with my knife in my hand.
I tower over her in the armchair, pressing the blade against her neck.
She jolts in her sleep and her eyes fly open.
She looks straight into my eyes, and I can see my aunt in hers.
I try to remain steady, because I know Mike would lose it in my place.
I need him to stay further back, where he's shielded from the pleading look in her eyes.
“You will come with us,” I explain. She doesn’t utter a word.
Instead, her head moves slowly up and down as she nods to the best of her ability.
I place the black hood over her head, and Mike steps closer and picks up her body.
She doesn’t react or try to yell. It’s unusual.
We usually expect some fight, but she looks defeated.
I guess she is one of those broken ones who never fight.
That will make the hunt even more dull, and Mike even more restless.
This time, he moves first as we head back the same way we came. With the woman in his arms, he leads the way like I did when we came inside. We walk out of the house, and I close her door so as not to raise suspicion—just in case someone sees the house from the road.
The van is parked right outside her gate, and once we are across her yard, Nathan steps out of the van and opens the back doors.
Mike drops her body inside and ties her up.
I don’t participate. I simply get inside the passenger side in the front, waiting for them to finish.
Nathan joins me, and Mike hops in the back with the woman.
I am usually the one who stays back there with them, but this time I have no desire to stay with our victim.
I am not going to try to ease her fear like I usually would.
I am not even going to attempt to talk Mike out of the hunt again.
This is going to happen whatever I do, and I plan to do nothing at all.
“We are ready!” He calls from the back, banging the side of the van—a signal that we are ready to move.
The car starts moving, and I close my eyes for a moment too long, trying to find a place inside my mind to shield the last pieces of me I have left.
It’s pointless. Nathan drives the familiar way to the maze, and I open my eyes long enough to look at his face; he has a look that tells me he doesn’t agree with tonight’s hunt either. Yet, it will happen anyway.