I had yet to see my reflection in the mirror, brush my teeth, or use the bathroom, but I was back in my robe, following Mason down the hallway.

His large black dogs trailed behind us, moving almost as quietly as he did. Everything was silent, aside from the soft tap of his dress shoes and the clicking of his dogs’ nails.

“Here we are.” He paused in front of a large black door, entering a four-digit pin on an electric keypad. When the lock beeped twice, and he pushed the door open, I didn’t want to believe what I was seeing. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.

Mason pulled me into a room that looked nothing like the rest of his house. The walls were stone, the floor was black and white tiled slate. There was various odd equipment placed around the room, and against one wall was an easel holding a blank piece of canvas.

My mind rapidly worked to figure out why he would have a girl restrained in something that looked like a dental and salon chair in the center of the room. She turned her head and stared right at me. The helpless despair in her eyes went straight to my heart.

Her blonde hair was in messy disarray; she was completely nude. Dark mascara was smeared across her face, and a painful looking flesh wound was on her head.

“Mason, who is this? What have you done?” Rushing to the blonde’s side, I reached out to help her, but ultimately dropped my hands back down to my side.

Her restraints seemed like simple leather clasps from afar. Up close, I could see little rivulets of blood running from her wrists where they were embedded in her flesh. Another thick strap was wrapped around her head, covering her mouth.

“I don’t know who she is.” He circled to the other side of the chair and ran the back of his knuckles down her cheek. The girl whimpered, turning her head away.

Why is he touching her?

I was instantly disgusted with myself. Why did that matter?

“Mason, you have to let her go. The police–”

“Katie-Kat, your concern is touching, but no one is going to come here looking for this girl. I saw her walking down the back road after I got rid of…took care of something else. I offered her a ride, and she got in.

“Pretty girls shouldn’t get into cars with strangers.” He gave me a cruel little smirk, walking over to a cabinet that hung in the corner.

I glared at the side of his face. That was a blatant jab at me. My mother’s words rang loud and clear in my head. She told me it wasn’t safe outside, that someone would take advantage of me and I would get hurt. I thought that was her way of trying to control me, but she was right. She’d been telling the truth.

“I told you I like to take them apart. I get a better visual of what to paint.” He shrugged his suit jacket off, pulling things from the cupboard I couldn’t see because his frame was blocking my view.

“It started as a hobby. My father encouraged me to nurture the skill set. One of his benefactors saw a painting I did, and the rest is history,” he continued explaining, walking over to a large metal tub and turning on the water. When he finally turned back around to face me, he held a scalpel in one hand and a capped needle in the other.

“What are you doing?”

He approached the girl, popped the cap off the syringe, and inserted it into her arm.

“It’s a mild sedative. She’ll be relaxed enough not to feel anything, but still aware of her surroundings.”

“Why are you showing me this?” I tugged at my hair until my scalp hurt.

“So you would rather I keep it a secret, and you find out through some other means? You’re part of my life now. This,” he gestured to the blonde, “Is your life now. You’ll learn to enjoy it. Give it time.”

I knew the man was a little off. He’d kidnapped me, for fuck’s sake, and claimed I came with him willingly. But to this degree?  He stood there humming a little tune to himself, about to play Hostel. 

I wish it were some sick ploy my mother came up with to torment me, but the blood was real. The blonde’s silenced screams and fear were real.

“Mason. Don’t do this. This is wrong!”

“This isn’t wrong,” he scoffed, “Life is full of death. And death is never happy or pretty. This is the easy part.”

I stood, cemented to the floor, as a scene straight out of a late-night horror movie played out in front of me.

With quick efficiency, he buried the scalpel in her neck, hit a button on the side of the chair that freed her wrists, and did each of them next. I had never seen so much red in my life. Movies never showed someone’s body going into convulsions as they died.

Bile rose in the back of my throat; her blood sounded like rain drops hitting the floor. This was his hobby? The metallic smell was too much. I began walking backward, searching for a door knob.

It was then I realized something was terribly wrong with me. Part of me wanted to worship the ground he walked on, bloody scalpel and all. The other wanted the man back from five minutes ago, and to remain oblivious to all of this.

They’re the same damn person.

“Katie.” He sat the scalpel down and stepped around the chair. I backed up so fast my back collided with the door.

“Don’t run.”

He didn’t have the second word out of his mouth before I was out of the room and racing down the hall.