Syrena

When I get out from underneath the shower, I pat myself down with the towel and wrap it around my body. Chase didn’t leave any clothes. Maybe he was planning to, but he left the bathroom so suddenly I didn’t have the time to ask. I guess taking my clothes off in front of him got a little too hot to handle.

I know what I have, and I’m not afraid to show it off.

Especially not if I can use it to persuade my captor.

I mean, anything goes, right?

He’s keeping me a prisoner in his home, so I might as well try to get something out of it.

Maybe if I try hard enough, he’ll let me go.

So I open the door and walk out into the living room. The scent of coffee hangs in the air, and I sniff to take it all in. My mouth waters as it wafts past me, out of the kitchen.

“Coffee’s ready,” he says.

If I remember the layout of his apartment correctly, he’s already standing near the table.

“Oh …” Judging from the sound of his voice, he just looked.

My whole face turns red. “There weren’t any clothes.”

“Shit. I forgot.” He rushes past me, into a room, but I don’t know which. A few drawers open and close, and then he slams the door shut again.

“Hold out your hands.” He’s right in front of me now, and when I do what he asks, he puts what feels like a dress in my hands. “Put it on.”

I shrug and immediately drop my towel to the floor. Then I lift my arms and slide the dress on.

I’m pretty sure he’s watching.

I can tell from his hampered breaths.

I wonder if he liked what he saw.

He immediately turns and walks away. “C’mon. Sit,” he says, and he pulls out a chair.

I’m still wondering why he has clothes that fit me perfectly. “This is … nice,” I mumble, touching the fabric.

“You like it? I bought some on a whim. If it’s not the right size, I can get you something else.”

“No, it’s fine,” I reply, touching the table to make sure I’m on the right side before sitting down.

“Good.” He scoots my chair up and puts his hands on my shoulders, squeezing a little. “You must’ve missed the normal things like coffee. What else have you missed? A lot, probably,” he continues. “I plan to cook for you. I want you to taste every little thing you’ve been missing out on for months.” He leans over in my ears and says, “Do you like juicy … red … meat?”

“W-what?” I stammer.

“Do you like pot roast?” he asks. “Just an innocent question.”

I nod, barely able to speak with his fingers digging into my skin possessively.

That didn’t feel like just an innocent question.

“Good.” He releases me. “I’ll make it tomorrow.”

He sits down across the table and grabs something. Pouring it into his coffee, he stirs loudly.

“It’s right in front of you. Go ahead.”

I touch the cup carefully to make sure I don’t burn my hands while finding the handle. Then I bring it to my mouth and take a sip.

“No sugar? Milk?”

“I prefer it black,” I reply, licking my lips from the aftertaste. God, it’s been so long since I last tasted coffee. It’s so good; it makes goose bumps scatter on my skin, and I actually want to moan. But I manage to stop myself before it rolls out of my mouth.

Still, I can hear him smile.

“What’s so funny?” I ask.

“Nothing. I just like watching you enjoy things.”

“Strange,” I reply.

“How so?”

“Well, for one, you’re keeping me a prisoner in your home. And two, I find that hard to believe.”

It’s quiet for some time before he responds. “I’m sorry, Syrena. I can’t let you go.”

“Why?” I ask, putting down my cup.

“What would you do if you were free? Go to the police to tell them about me.”

“I wouldn’t.”

“Right.” He takes a sip. “Who are you trying to convince?”

“I don’t even know where we are. How could I ever lead them to you? I only know your first name,” I reply.

“I’m not that stupid, Syrena.” He scoots his chair back and gets up. The closer he walks, the more I lean back. He places one hand on the back of my chair and one on the table. “I’ve seen how you move around. Learning your surroundings and getting your bearings is like a snap of the finger, isn’t it? You feel … you touch.”

He places a hand on my shoulder and slides it down my arm. “You already know the exact layout of my home. I’m sure you could trace your way back too.” He squeezes softly. A threat. “So don’t lie to me … please.”

I jerk free of his grip and scoot my chair back as far away from him as possible, before getting up and walking back toward the room he’s been keeping me in all this time.

“Where are you going?” he asks.

“I’m tired.”

“We aren’t done talking.”

“I am.”

He growls. “Sit. Down.”

“Make me,” I hiss as I stampede toward the door.

Right as he stomps behind me, I slam the door shut in his face. I don’t care if he comes in or not. He can’t do anything to me that someone hasn’t already tried. He can’t take away anything I value.

He can see right through me, and I hate it.

I hate that I have nothing to persuade him with … except for my body.

Guess I will have to sell my soul.

* * *

Chase

My hand hovers over the door handle, but I can’t bring myself to enter. As much as I want to scream and make her do everything I want, I can’t. It isn’t fucking right.

Instead, I slam the wall with a fist so hard it makes my knuckles bleed.

I sink to the floor and gaze at my bloodied hand, wondering if I can ever make this right again. If I can ever be anything less than … bad.

I promised myself that I’d do this. That she would be the one. But she’s making it so hard for me.

“Fuck!” I slam the wall again, this time with a flat hand, just to let my frustrations out.

However, it only makes them worse.

The longer I sit here steaming in my own rage, the more I want to lash out.

I have to get out. Have to get away from her. Now. Before I do something I’ll forever regret.

So I get up, grab my coat, and run out the door, slamming it shut behind me.

With my cell phone in my hand, I make my way to my car and dial Brandon’s number.

“I’m doing it now,” I say when he picks up. “Give me an address and a name.”

“Okay … Hold on.” While he’s looking, I get in the car and buckle up. “I’ve texted you the info. Want me to come with?”

“No. I need to do this alone.”

“Fine by me,” he replies. “How’s the girl?”

“Great.”

I hang up the phone before he can say anything more about her. I know how he feels about it, but I don’t fucking care whether he agrees. He knows how much this means to me, and I’m sticking with it.

I throw my phone in the passenger seat and hit the gas, chasing the roads.

I drive just below the speed limit, never going through a red light. I hate breaking the rules, but what I hate more are rule breakers. And I will never, ever become one. Just because I’m twisted doesn’t mean I’m evil.

No … the man I’m looking at right now is.

His picture, as is his address, is on my phone when I get out of the car and open the back to take out my tools. Two black gloves, a mask that I wear, a poncho … and an ax.

Humming a tune, I check my surroundings before stuffing the poncho and ax in a bag and closing the trunk again. Then I make my way to his home.

Harrold Magus, one of the richest men in town … is also a fraud. His wealth came over the backs of hardworking people who he scammed out of money, then gambled it off in the stock markets. Time and time again, he got away with it, paying off the police and judges.

Not anymore.

I jump over the small fence and check my surroundings for nosy neighbors before I go to his house. It’s dark inside, except for one light turned on in the bedroom. Perfect.

With a plastic card, I gain entry into his home and close the door behind me without making a sound. Slowly, I tread through the house, checking each room for people before I make my way upstairs.

Adrenaline rushes through my veins as I go up the staircase, and his shadow appears on the door.

He’s right there, brushing his teeth in the bathroom.

I quietly place the bag on the floor and take out the poncho, putting it on. Then I take out the ax and approach.

My tongue dips out from excitement the closer I get.

Oh … yes. This is going to be magnificent.

One hit and he’s down.

Blood sprays everywhere.

Not a sound except the smashing of his skull against the floor.

Another hit and he’s surely gone forever. Smothered like a bug. Vanished from this earth like the unwanted virus he is. He won’t be a fucking bloodsucker anymore.

I pull my ax from his body and clean it in the sink before putting it back in my bag along with the poncho. Then I casually stroll down the stairs, whistling that same tune from before.

The world can rest peacefully tonight.

The justice system might fail from time to time, but I won’t.

I’ll make sure there’s justice where there’s evil. No matter the price.