32. Malic
Malic
The good doctor stares back at me from the metal chair in the center of my super-secret basement torture chamber.
Sweat glistens on her crinkled forehead.
Her dimmed, hazy eyes blink rapidly as I take a step closer to her.
Anticipation roars through my veins at the sight of fear sparking in her widening eyes.
Oh, yes, Good Doctor, you’re in danger.
And I’m in fucking heaven.
“So what do you think?” I ask the doctor as her delightful squeals echo through the basement, desperate to flee the situation.
Too bad for her, she’s not going anywhere, and no one can hear her pleas for help.
Ever Again. “Do you think Oliver Davenport is hiding things?” I wiggle my brows when she squirms in the restraints and tries to talk through her gag.
“Righto, Doctor. I’ll help you out with that,” I sing-song, checking over the glasses and badge one more time for good measure.
Who would have guessed Oliver Davenport was hiding such delicious things in his dresser drawers, tucked beneath his boxers and chest binders?
It’s a shame, though, that I couldn’t take the vibrator tucked beside the badge.
But my keeper’s voice became my conscience, and it told me to leave it be.
Damn Keeper. When did he crawl into my brain and start making sense?
I huff. Besides, I wanted to continue standing over her while she slept, gazing at her when she thought she was safe.
Tossing and turning, whimpering in her dreams. Old habits die hard, as they say.
And mine? Well, mine never dies. I could watch her for eternity.
And I will.
One day.
As I set down the two new prized possessions that belong to my little ghost, I make my way closer to the doctor. Her eyes widen even more, almost making her look bug-eyed, staring straight at my dick swinging between my legs.
Right. I’m naked. For reasons, of course. I don’t need my new pair of shoes covered in blood splatter. I’d have to toss them out. And that’s a goddamn tragedy to do.
“He’s a shower and a grower,” I quip, yanking the gag out of Dr. Lohr’s mouth with force. Tears leak from her pathetic eyes, streaming down her pale cheeks.
She takes several deep breaths. “What do you want?” she blurts, trying to back away from me.
Not that she can. She has to face the devil himself, now.
It’s what she deserves, especially if my sister is on her list of innocent people.
Well, time to pay up. “I-I can pay you!” she shrieks, trying to shake her head.
“I have money! Lots of money. I can-can write you a check. Whatever you want,” she wails more, sniffling and snotting everywhere.
I grin. “How much for your life?” I chuckle, taking a step toward my weapons lying out on a metal cart.
Ah, my babies. They call my name, begging for bloodshed.
Well, me too, pals. Me fucking, too. Especially with her.
I want to rip her apart. But I can’t yet.
I have to hold back so I can gather vital information.
“How much would you be willing to give me to walk out of this room unscathed?” Not that she will. Doc isn’t aware that she’ll be ribbons after I’m done with her.
I raise my brows when her lips quiver, and her beady eyes glue to my every move.
She flinches back when I collect my favorite hunting knife, thick with sharp edges, and perfect for splitting flesh like butter.
My mind wanders to the knife I found in my little ghost’s drawer alongside her badge and vibrator.
She and I have good taste. Now, if only my knife were engraved with such a powerful word as hers.
That would be fun. Matching couple’s knives. I wonder if my little ghost would want it as a wedding gift? Eh. No matter, I’ll figure it all out later once I’m done with my current adventure.
“Hello, beautiful,” I hum to myself, bringing the clean knife to view it better in the light.
“Isn’t she gorgeous, Doc?” Satisfaction roars through me when the good doctor whimpers from behind my back, desperately pulling at her restraints and trying to run from me.
“Is this how you feel when you look at your scalpels? Does your blood pump through your ears to the beat of your heart?” Because mine sure does.
Every time I touch my precious knife, I come alive.
The numbness floating around inside me evaporates.
Poof! Gone. Replaced by a light that should probably be there all the time, but isn’t.
“I have a lot of money, and it’s all yours.
Say the word,” she shrieks in garbled sentences, nearly choking on her own saliva.
Unacceptable. If anyone is going to choke the life out of her, it won’t be by her own fluids.
No. It’ll be me with this knife in the torture room.
I grin when she reels back, banging the back of her head off the chair.
Her eyes are filled with so much terror I could probably swim in it.
“You’re so afraid,” I say, sniffing the air with a grin.
Any humanity she thought she might have seen before disappears before her eyes.
The real Maniac has come to play, and boy, does he love a good screaming prey begging for her life.
“Nothing to be afraid of, Doc.” Lies. There’s plenty to be afraid of, but I can’t scare her out of her skin yet. Nope.
So I settle for placing the sharpened edge of the knife at her throat, loving the way it bobs against the edge and pricks her flesh, forcing blood to dribble from her self-inflicted wounds.
“Delicious,” I murmur to myself, standing above her.
“Now, Good Doctor. I want to play a game called tell me everything I want to know, and you get to keep your esophagus. Okay?” She doesn’t dare nod when I lean in further, staring straight into her panic-filled eyes.
“So, tell me, where exactly do you get your endless funds?” I hum with a delightful sense of resolution coming my way.
Knock, knock, Malic. Your sister is right around the corner.
I feel it in the damn breaths I take. Or maybe that’s the sweat and sickness coming from the good doctor practically shitting herself at the sight of me.
Oh, well.
“I-I…” she stammers, flinching when the knife digs deeper into her flesh with her own movements.
“My-my purse,” she stiffly gestures with a finger to the big black bag she was carrying out of the blood drive when I finally caught up to her.
How smart of me to have included that in the kidnapping.
“The m-m-money is in there!” she shouts again, snotting everywhere as she cries.
“Hmm. Not exactly what I asked, Doc.” I shrug, taking a step back. I eye her up and down, taking in the mess she’s made.
Snotty face. Tears everywhere. Blood dripping from her throat. It’s a beautiful combination and well deserved.
For someone so confident, she’s crumbling under the pressure quickly. I thought doctors were supposed to be composed in the face of danger. Eh. Whatever. Bravery will get her nowhere now. Only the truth will set her free.
Sometimes I want my playthings to fight tooth and nail for their freedom. Other times? I want them dead quickly after spilling their secrets.
This is one of those times.
Every time I peer into Dr. Lohr’s eyes, I see images of my sister. Crying. Begging. Starving. Organs gone. Blood everywhere. My imagination runs wild with the dark possibilities of what happened to her. I know she’s out there. Somewhere. I’ll find her even if it fucking kills me doing so.
“This?” I question, picking up the straps of her bag with the tips of my fingers.
“What do you have in here?” I quickly dump the contents on the floor and tilt my head.
“Lip gloss, powder for your nose, and…” I trail off, picking up a small, golden conch shell and flipping open the small, hinged door, revealing a white powder hidden inside—a snuff box.
A light scent of floral and gasoline wafts from the powder, crowding my thoughts with unwanted memories of times I wish I could fucking erase.
“And powder for the inside of your nose, too. Quite interesting,” I mutter with disdain, glaring at the drug sitting in my palm.
A drug I swore I would never come into contact with ever again.
The dog cage looms in front of my vision.
The same wires I’ve stared at for months on end with no relief in sight.
My only view is the yellow-stained walls, green carpeting, and flowered comforters I’ve never been able to touch.
I ache to feel the warmth of a mattress and pull blankets over myself.
That won’t happen. Not with the way my mother has spiraled into a woman I don’t recognize.
I’m stuck in this cage with no escape in sight.
I peek from behind the wired walls, wearily watching my mother dance, barely dressed, around the hotel room we’ve called home for the past few years.
A colorful, silk robe flies around her with every jerky move she makes.
Her eyes dilate as she sniffs something from a necklace hanging around her throat and lets it drop with an “ahh” of satisfaction.
I swallow hard when she stops in front of my face and leans down, peering straight into my eyes. Her pupils dilate more. The sweet scent of flowers mixed with gasoline and sugar makes me recoil further from her.
“Today is a good day, Malic,” she sings while twirling around the suite. “Today is a beautiful day!” She spins in a circle.
“Why?” I ask curiously, because every day is the same for me. I’m barely fed. Barely able to leave this prison to use the restroom, get water, or fucking shower. Now she’s claiming it’s a beautiful day while high on… whatever she’s gotten her hands on.
“Because,” she giggles into her palm. “Because we have a visitor coming…” She trails off when someone knocks at the door, loudly shaking the walls and shitty paintings hanging by a thread.
Great. Another visitor. Another man or woman coming to use my mother in the most disgusting ways. Another typical Tuesday.
“Ah, there he is, Malic,” she hums, standing tall and adjusting her bra. “Now, promise me you’ll be the best boy you can be, okay?” She grins maliciously, bending over to look me in the eyes. “Or bad things will happen, remember?”
I swallow hard, nodding a few times. There’s nothing I can do to escape. None of these people want to help me out of this prison. “I remember,” I croak, moving my body further back in the cage so my legs can stretch out, and I can dissociate from this entire situation.
I’m not here. I’m on the beach with waves crashing into the sand. I’m running around under the blazing sun with a smile on my face and an Icee in my hand. Ah. It’s a frozen Coke cee. It tastes delicious. It drowns out the noises my mother makes with the man on the bed.
I grunt, standing tall. The faint moans and grunts scream in my mind as if they happened five seconds ago and not a few years ago.
I want them gone. Erased from my fucking head, but some noises you can’t erase.
They cling for eternity. They’re memories with claws, digging deeper until you remember every goddamn thing in vivid detail.
“No!” I shout, tossing her purse until it hits the cement walls with a thud, echoing through the space.
The good doctor’s whimpers hit my ears, slightly pulling me back into the present.
Only slightly, though. This memory is determined to destroy me when I want to obliterate the woman sitting in the metal chair.
When I peek over my shoulder, my mother sits there with a loopy grin spreading across her lips. The same dilated eyes greet me. The same clothing she was wearing that day—her bra, underwear, and bright silk robe.
I shake my head, clearing the hallucination from my brain.
She’s dead. I fucking ended her the first chance I got, with Boss Man by my side.
No more fucking memories of that bitch and her imprisonment.
No more! I escaped. I ran to my new life.
She can’t hold me hostage any longer. She’s dead.
Fucking gone from this earth, and I will not waste my precious life dwelling on what she fucking put me through for no goddamn reason.
“Malic, please, baby! Have mercy on me,” she pleads on her wobbly knees in the middle of her hotel room, folding her hands together as if she were praying. “I…please,” she whispers, shaking her head. “You don’t understand. You have to understand!”
“He understands well enough,” Boss Man says as he walks out of the shadows and tilts his head.
“Now, Virginia…” He trails off, staring down at her with disdain.
“Be a good girl and take your punishment. You should be lucky the boy doesn’t shove you into a cage and leave you there to starve.
” He turns his nose up at her as she sniffles.
“I had to!” she cries, shaking her head. “He’s just like him!” She shakes her head, peering up at me between her eyelashes. “Can’t you see it? We have to stop him!” She attempts to gesture to me, but Boss smacks her hands away from me.
“He is not yours anymore,” Boss hisses, straightening his pristine suit with a huff.
Suddenly, a sardonic laugh bubbles out of his chest and booms off the hotel walls.
“He’s quite the opposite, actually.” He peers me up and down.
“He resembles you more than anything, but his soul? Well… That’s mine now,” he tsks, clicking his tongue several times.
“Now, Malic. Show Virginia what you’ve brought her. ”
I grit my teeth. Everything my birth giver had put me through screams in my mind. Over and over. Torturing me when I’m trying to sleep and making me go fucking mad with rage and hate.
She ruined my goddamn life. So I’m going to take hers as retribution.