Chapter 14
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The basement is dark, and if I could feel anything, I’m sure it would be cold.
Water leaks from the pipes snaked through the ceiling, and cobwebs decorate every nook and cranny this space has to offer.
Other than the washer and dryer being located down here, there's not much else.
A workbench lines the outer wall, which runs into the staircase that leads up to the storm door and outside.
Opposite the wall with the workbench, a chair is leaning against a pillar. Perfect.
I throw Liam on top of the chair and rummage around the workbench until I find what I need—rope to tie him up with, a rag, and some duct tape to keep his mouth closed.
This basement isn’t soundproof. I can’t have Ella waking up and coming down here.
I get to work, tying him to the chair and the chair to the pillar.
Then, I open his mouth and shove the rag in it, taping over it with a piece of duct tape.
If he screams, they’ll be muffled enough for Ella not to hear.
I plan to have him just listen for now. He can do the talking tomorrow when Ella is awake.
I can’t have my little dove missing out on all the fun.
At that thought, he begins to stir. His head lolls from side to side, his eyelids slowly fluttering open.
He groans, coughing a little, and then reality begins to set in almost immediately as he begins to thrash.
His eyes widen, and then bolt across the room until they land on me.
His eyes narrow, and he stops thrashing, muttering something I can’t understand through the rag.
“Good. You’re awake,” I say, walking over to a second chair in the corner of the room. I grab it and bring it back over to where Liam sits. I flip the chair to face me and sit, leaning forward onto the wooden back and resting my chin on my folded arms.
“We’re gonna have so much fun,” I taunt, grinning.
“Well, I’m gonna have fun. I’m not sure how much fun it’s going to be for you.
But I have one last thing I need to tend to before we get started.
” I stand, pulling another syringe from my back pocket.
“I’m afraid it’s lights out again for you.
Can’t have you trying to escape while I’m gone or making too much noise.
But don’t worry, I’ll be seeing you soon. ”
He screams more muffled screams before I jab the needle into his neck and inject the sedative.
He lets out a few more grunts before his head lolls to the side again.
Good. I need to hurry before the storm gets too bad, which, by the weather report, is in the next hour.
I head back up the stairs from the basement, closing the door behind me before I quickly and quietly move the couch blocking the door and exit the cabin, jogging into the woods.
I look back, noticing that Ella’s bedroom light is out.
Good. Hopefully she stays asleep. I can’t wait to see the look of surprise when I give her her gift tomorrow. I turn back and run into the woods.
The snow falls heavily onto the forest floor, and I know my time is running out, but I push forward.
I’m full-on sprinting as much as I can, hitting areas where the brush is so dense on top that there isn’t much snow on the floor, so I’m able to pick up speed.
Wolves howl in the distance, and the owls sound off in the trees.
Suddenly, I’ve found what I came for. The tree Ella was dragging still lies on the ground, intact and covered in a bit of snow.
I grab it by the rope still attached and begin pulling it without wasting time.
It’s heavy, but I’ve pulled heavier. All the time spent lifting and tossing bodies over things makes this feel like light work.
Left, right, left, right, left, right, I tell myself over and over. Keep moving. Your woman wants this tree. Something in my heart constricts at that, though. My woman. For a second, it’s almost like I can feel a slight chill dance across my skin, but it’s gone just as quick as it came.
The snow begins pouring from the sky, and I grab the tree, finding its center, and I lift it to balance it on my shoulder.
The tree line is just ahead, the lights on the cabin porch illuminating my way like a beacon.
I take every last bit of strength I can muster and pick up speed, sprinting the remainder of the way until I’m at the front door.
Slowly, I open it, balancing the tree through the frame before lowering it quietly to the ground and closing the door.
I look around, looking for the perfect spot to place it.
Bingo. Next to the fireplace is a little area free from furniture and other items. There are a few boxes lying to the side labeled ‘Xmas Decor/ Fragile’, so I quietly search them until I find what I need.
Taking the tree stand, I put it together, placing it in the spot I need before grabbing the tree from the floor and sliding it in, securing the three hook screws on the sides.
The tree takes up just the right amount of space, and I get to work, taking the decorations out one by one to put them on it.
Thankfully, the lights we used seem to have made their way back downstairs, so I take them and string them around the tree, strategically placing them to leave no part of the tree unlit.
Red and silver tinsel spills out of one of the boxes, so I add it to the tree, making sure not to cover the lights.
Next, I do the ornaments, and what I find makes me…
smile. Several boxes are filled with homemade ornaments, all depicting different art pieces created by Ella and her family over the years.
There are footprints designed to look like reindeer, red and white pipe cleaners in the shape of candy canes, and different photos stuck to art pieces, all reflecting different ages.
There are only a few regular ornaments, so I go ahead and add them all to the branches.
The tree feels like what I’d imagine a family feels like—warm and loving.
I wouldn’t know. My parents were drug addicts most of my life, and I was in and out of foster care until I turned eighteen.
I put all my effort into school, got a job, and then met Laura.
It honestly feels like a different life now, thinking back on it, and I find myself paused mid-ornament hang, staring at my reflection in the red ball.
Pushing those memories aside, I finish decorating.
I haven’t done this since Laura died, and it feels… nice. Domestic.
Once all of the ornaments are placed on the branches, there’s only one thing left to do.
At the bottom of the box lies an angel. Its white dress is tinted yellow from years stuffed into a box, its wings a little out of control, but I fix it up nicely and grab a chair, dragging it next to the tree.
I stand on it and reach, setting the angel right on top.
When I’m satisfied the tree is perfect enough for my little dove, I plug it in, and it lights up the room with twinkling lights. It’s perfect.
Now that that is done, I pick up the area a bit and head down to the basement, but I pause when an idea pops into my mind.
I pivot, heading back to the tree and grabbing two of the red ornaments, bringing them with me.
It’s about 3:30am, and I figure I have a few hours to kill before Ella wakes up.
My body is thrumming with anticipation for the events to come, and I need to release some of this tension.
“Welcome back,” I taunt, making eye contact with Liam as I hit the final step.
His eyes bore into me, as though he is thinking about all the ways he could kill me.
I grin, and he shouts muffled bullshit at me.
“You now have my full attention. I just needed to do something for my woman. You understand.”
His eyes narrow on me at the ‘my woman’ part, and I chuckle.
“Man, the way she was gripping my cock earlier was pure heaven. It was like she was made for me.” He thrashes in his chair, screaming, the blood rushing to his face and becoming red with intense anger.
Before he has a second to register, I’m on him, giving him a straight jab to the nose and relishing the way it gives under my fist, the cracking of it like a bolt of lightning in this quiet space.
His eyes widen, and his screams turn from those of anger to those of pain.
Blood gushes from his nose, coating his shirt.
“That was for scaring my little dove earlier,” I state, moving to the workbench.
I grab a few nails and a hammer and slowly make my way back to him, twirling the hammer in one hand and whistling the tune of It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year.
He stills, eyes dilating with fear. It smells delectable.
“Does Ella know about your past?” I taunt, and he pales. He shakes his head no.
“Of course she doesn’t. If she knew, she’d be just as disgusted with you as I am,” I spit. “It disgusts me that you even got to touch her with those vile hands. You should have been sent to prison for what you did, but we’ll rectify that soon enough. In the meantime…”
Taking the hammer and a nail, I align the nail over the top of his right hand and slam the hammer down, sending the nail directly through his hand and into the wooden armrest. Then, without pause, I do the same to the left.
He screams, the sounds still muffled from the rag and tape, but they still bring me joy, and I smile.
“That’s for touching her with your tainted hands,” I growl.
“Now, we need to dress you up a bit. Get you in the holiday spirit. What do ya say? Hold please.” I quietly jog up the stairs, cracking the door open just a bit to make sure Ella hasn’t woken up early.
When the coast is clear, I walk out to the Christmas decor boxes and grab a few more items—a Santa hat, extra lights, and some bows.
I make my way back down into the basement and drop everything on the workbench.
Grabbing some shears, I walk over and begin cutting off his shirt.
His skin has a slight bluish tint to it from how cold it must be down here.
I untie the rope from the pillar, still leaving him secured to each chair leg and, well, nailed to the arms, and pull it forward off the pillar.
Taking the Christmas lights, I begin wrapping them around his body until he’s secure, making sure to leave his chest exposed.
I plop the Santa hat on him and then cover him in bows. Finally, I save the best for last.
“This is gonna hurt,” I state, taking one of the ornaments in my hands. I grab the hook, straightening it out just a bit before grabbing one of his nipples. He registers what I’m about to do and begins thrashing again, unable to move much but just enough to throw me off.
“If you don’t stop moving, I’ll make sure your dick is next.
” He stills, shaking his head. “Good, now hold still.” Holding his nipple firmly, I pierce it with the ornament hook, threading it all the way through before bending it to hang like jewelry.
A deep, guttural sound leaves Liam, but it’s caught and dies behind the tape.
Just like with the nails, I waste no time moving on to the next and repeat the process, pushing the very dull-pointed tip into his nipple.
Then I stand back, admiring my work. Blood drips from both sites, and I consider taking up art classes after this because this is a masterpiece.
I check the time, noticing that hours have gone by and we’re getting close to sunrise. I need to make sure I have time to set up. Pulling out another syringe from my back pocket, I pop the top and walk over to Liam.
“I’m afraid it’s lights out again, but you’ll join the party real soon.
Can’t have you making any noise before she’s awake, and you’ll be much easier to move when you’re passed out.
I stab the needle into his neck and inject, watching what little fight he put up drain from his body.
Then, I get to work hauling him upstairs as quietly as I can.
Once we’re upstairs, I situate him next to the Christmas tree, using the outlet nearby to plug both of them in.
Both the tree and Liam light up, and it fills my chest with a sense of pride knowing I’m about to give my little dove a Christmas she’ll never forget. Now there’s only one thing left to do.
We wait.