Chapter 16
When the prey gets stuck to the web, the spider takes its time with it. He waits patiently until it’s thoroughly trapped. The spider watches it struggle closely. A new day will come, and it will weave a new web, waiting for its next victim.
I opened my eyes to see maroon ceiling. I slowly moved my eyes until I realized it wasn’t the ceiling I was looking at, but a velvet baldachin.
I leaned on my elbows, trying to figure out where I was. The pain in my shoulder wasn’t as bad anymore.
I glanced down at it and saw the wound had been dressed.
I sat back, looking ahead. My throat felt raw. I didn’t have a drop of water to drink for two days.
Memories of last night were firing away in my head like arrows raining down on my mind. My pulse sped up, even though I was in no danger at the time.
There was a small bottle of water on the nightstand. I reached for the bottle, gulping it down to the very last drop. Once I emptied it, I knew it was nowhere near enough.
Were they too stingy to leave some more damn water around here?
I left the empty bottle on the nightstand and looked around the room.
It was large. Much larger than the room Bell and I shared.
The roomy bed with champagne-colored sheets was adorned with a burgundy red baldachin.
The edges of the baldachin were decorated with tiny hazelnut beige tassels.
The baldachin was tied to the four vertical bed posts.
There were small neat nightstands with reading lamps on either side of the bed.
There was also a large wardrobe, a vanity table with a mirror, a couple of couches and a coffee table. All of it reminded me of museum exhibits you’d visit to see how well-off folks of the past used to live ages ago.
The curtains matched the baldachin. They adorned the tall French windows. The daylight illuminated the whole room despite the gray clouds outside.
I walked to the window and looked outside. What I saw out there made me run downstairs right away. Adrenaline numbed the sharp pain in my shoulder.
I ran out of the room, darting down the cold stairs barefoot until I reached the main door.
The doors to the front yard were wide open. A man of around 35 I’d never met before stood by, smoking nonchalantly.
“What’s that?”
He gave me a bored look and calmly blew the smoke out.
I ran up to the black bag and unzipped it.
Inside was Cass.
She was dead.
Anger, fear and sense of injustice melted together, clouding my judgement.
I darted to the other bags, but a strong hand wrapped around my wrist stopped me.
I had never seen the man before. He looked peeved.
“Levi, let her go,”
The man with a cigarette said carelessly, holding it between the teeth.
Without a word, Levi let me go and I unzipped each bag. There were four of them in total. Inside were the girls from the basement. Every one of them had been shot in the head.
I was on the verge of tears when anger overwhelmed me .
“Where is he?”
I turned to look at the man with a cigarette.
He carelessly ashed his cigarette without looking at me.
“Second floor, first door on the right.”
I quickly headed to his office, skipping over every other step on the stairs. My left foot slipped and I fell on one knee, breaking the stitches.
I kicked the door hard enough to make it bounce from the wall and fly back at me. My hand caught it midway.
“What the fuck?”
I was nearly shouting.
He raised his head as he sat in a brown armchair at a large table. He frowned, his eyes glaring daggers at me.
“I asked you a question.”
I expected my voice to sound just as confident as it did when I asked the question, but it sounded hesitant.
He got up from the table and headed towards me.
My determination wavered with each step he took. His mere presence was terrifying. It evoked fear for my life, fear of the ominous uncertainty he brought about.
I wanted to run, but he caught up and grabbed me by the hair so hard my neck arched back, forcing me to meet his gaze.
“You are not to talk to me like that.”
His deep voice, ink-black eyes, darker than the plumes of midnight storm, and his cold expression made my stomach turn.
I tried to swallow my fear, but it didn’t work.
“The black bags. In the yard. Why?”
My voice sounded like it was about to break and fade away.
His gaze fell on my shoulder and he frowned slightly.
Gripping me harder for only a moment, he finally let me go.
“The stitches broke.”
He turned around and went back to the table.
“Why? ”
“Sana’s coming today. She’s a doctor. She’ll come here every day to dress the wound until it’s healed. I know you haven’t eaten yet. Marta will bring your breakfast soon. She’s the housekeeper around here.”
“Where’s his body?”
He stopped.
“That guy.”
I could hear the tears coming in my voice.
Tears welled up in my eyes, but I wasn’t going to cry.
Not in front of him.
“I want to bury him. He...”
“All the bodies from the woods were collected and taken away yesterday.”
He pulled a white silk handkerchief from his jacket pocket.
“Where to?”
He turned around and began walking towards me.
I looked him in the eye, waiting for answers.
“It was you, wasn’t it?” I whispered.
A lonely tear rolled down my cheek.
He slowly slid the handkerchief up from the back of my hand, stopping at the wound and gently pressing down.
I looked down and saw blood running down my arm. The drops stained the cream carpet.
My shoulder stung. And the pain was growing.
“Does it hurt?”
“No.”
I flicked the tear away like a pesky fly.
I won’t give him the pleasure of watching me suffer. I wasn’t going to let him break me. I knew I would escape. I’d get rid of my invisible leash and then the whole world would know who he was.
I pushed his hand with the handkerchief soaked in my blood away .
Why was he doing this? Could he have let them leave? Could they have survived? Why did he have to kill them? And the bodies? Would their families even know they were dead?
“Will their families ever learn they’re dead?”
He went back to his armchair, rested his right hand on the desk, drumming his fingertips on the wooden surface.
“That is not something you should worry about. Think about your recovery. Because my business is stalling, and it makes me nervous. And when I get nervous, I get rid of useless people.”
His words sent shivers down my spine, like a gust of icy wind.
Looking down at his papers, he said indifferently,
“You can leave now.”
I slammed the door to my room and went to the bathroom.
Monsters don’t hide under the bed, they don’t live in dark woods, waiting for you.
Real monsters have unlimited power, menacing amount of money on their banking accounts, formidable connections and a long list of missing people behind them.
They don’t care for humanity, values or ideals.
A human life is a problem they solve one bullet at a time.
You have only two options: submit or die, because they are the ones picking the next song.
I took a white fluffy towel and pressed it against the wound.
I sat down on the toiler and wept.
What did I do? What did I do to deserve this? Why me? What did I do wrong? Was I such a bad person? Why did it have to be me?
A sudden knock on the door pulled me from this ritualistic torment.
I froze and didn’t react at first. I heard more tapping and wiped the tears away quickly, heading to the door.
I opened it to see an older lady. Wrinkles covered her face like loving touches of years long passed. Her hair was as white as snowbanks in winter. Her gray eyes reminded me of the fall skies hiding the sun until spring comes .
“My name’s Marta. I brought you breakfast.”
I nodded and stepped aside. She placed the breakfast tray on the coffee table. Her eyes stopped at the bloody towel in my hand.
“You’re bleeding, aren’t you? Shall I call the master?”
“No... no. No need. Thanks.”
My first “no” was too loud and crass.
I didn’t need him or his help. He should go back to hell he’d crawled out of.
I could hear concern in her voice, but she simply nodded and left, closing the door behind her.
Marta was old enough to be my grandmother, but her lively movements made her seem younger.
I saw the food tray, knelt next to it and began stuffing my face with some scrambled eggs and bread, washing it all down with lukewarm tea.
The wound was aching, pain shooting down the arm. The bleeding showed no sign of stopping. It kept running down, tickling my wrist.
I heard the doors slam outside. I jumped to my feet, still holding a slice of bread in my hand and chewing the food.
There was a gray minivan and a dark-blue car parked next to the house. The car looked brand new, clean, shiny and expensive.
Someone opened the door for the reaper, but he stopped and turned around, looking right at my window. It’s like he could feel me staring.
I wanted to step away from the window and hide. It wasn’t a good idea to draw attention to myself, provoke or stand out. I was supposed to hide, act scared and nod my head like the dog he wanted me to be.
But my uncontrollable desire to rebel got the better of me. I bit from the bread slice defiantly, still staring him down. Levi stood next to him. He said something, but the reaper wasn’t even looking at him. He kept staring at me .
His sinister glare slowly bored into me like a knife, showing me visions of my own death.
Holding the bread in my mouth, I closed the curtains in one fell swoop.