Lose Control (Jim Moriarty)

Part 6

Monica was now fully aware Jim wasn't just dangerous; he was toxic. His poison had entered her veins and was now slowly spreading through her body. It made her want more; more games, more riddles, more danger, more Jim. He triggered a kind of rush that was indescribable and unimaginable. She wouldn't even have dared dream of this before.

She walked out of the bathroom in her 'new' clothes and with a fresh coat of makeup, with a confident stroll. The clothes Jim had given her fit her perfectly, as if he had taken measurements and had hired someone to sew the clothes just for her. She also thought he had a good taste. He'd picked an all black outfit, with black skinny jeans and a black top.

"I knew it would look good on you," Jim spoke as he entered the apartment. For a second, Monica wondered where he had been, but then she saw Evan walking in right behind him.

"What's he doing here?" she asked suspiciously as she carefully took a small step back. Even though she had put on makeup, you could still see the bruises on her cheek and her head still hurt.

"Nothing to worry about, kitten. He's just here to make sure you don't run away." A smile appeared on his face. He was enjoying the slight hint of fear in her eyes.

Monica focussed on Evan who was stomping around the apartment as if he owned the damn place. She raised an eyebrow when he grabbed a beer from the fridge; she was quite sure if Jim consumed alcohol, he wouldn't drink a beer. So Evan had to come around here often. As he took a sip from the can, Monica stopped every thought of hers and stared at the way he was holding the can; with his left hand. The bruise on her left cheek was burning on her face. Evan wasn't left-handed; Evan had hit her with his right fist. Now that she was thinking about it, this man hadn't been limping either.

She turned to Jim, who was studying her from across the apartment. "Who is that?" she asked while slightly tilting her head.

He replied with a chuckle. "Good observation, although I'd expected you to notice it right away. That's Ronan, Evan's twin brother. Evan suddenly wasn't available for today anymore. I'm blaming you for that."

Something in her eyes sparkled when he said that. A giant man like Evan was afraid of her without even being aware of her actual most dangerous quality: her mind. She looked at Jim with a confident smile.

"Just wait until tonight with that smile. I'm not done with you yet," he grinned.

Now what could that mean? Sure, he was going to test her again, but how? Judging by the look on his face, it would be the most important test yet.

"Relax, kitten, it's not going to hurt you," he assured her, but she knew better than to trust him, so she answered him by raising her eyebrow.

Just a few hours later, Monica was following Jim into an old abandoned building with Ronan walking directly behind her, him watching her every move with his twin brother in the back of his mind. The building had clearly not been inhabited for a few years, because you could see the first traces of nature taking over. Wallpaper and paint were peeling off the walls and moss was starting to replace it. Most windows were broken – glass was all over the floor – and through some of them grew branches of the wildly growing bushes outside the house. A few pieces of furniture that had been left behind drenched the entire place in a strong scent of rotten wood and mould. They all had to take shallow breaths through their nose not to gag.

Jim lead Monica and Ronan up the dangerously loudly creaking stairs. Upstairs, the smell was much better and the air was much fresher. Jim brought them to what once had been the master bedroom, where a dim wailing was heard from the built-in wardrobe. Jim let out an annoyed sigh as the woebegone sounds grew louder and he kicked the door of the wardrobe.

"SHUT UP!" he screamed, his complexion turning monster-like as he lost his cool for just a second. The sounds changed to a soft plaintive sobbing and immediately after that his normal expression was back on his face; slightly amused, slightly annoyed and slightly dark.

He fixed his tie and turned back to Monica, who had been watching him with interest. "Open the door," he ordered, gesturing to the wardrobe.

She hesitated; could he be tricking her?

"C'mon now, we don't have all night." Moriarty checked the sleeves of his black Westwood suit for dirt and wiped some off.

Monica was still suspicious, but she was too proud to be a coward in front of Jim and with Ronan watching from the doorway, so she walked up to the closet and threw open the door. In the corner of the wardrobe sat a little boy with angelic blond curls, sobbing onto his knees with his ankles and wrists tied together. He looked up at her with wide eyes, tears streaming down his face. For a moment there was hope in his bright blue eyes; hope that she was there to free him. That hopeful look soon disappeared when Monica turned back to Jim.

"Okay, and now what?" she didn't show one bit of empathy. Jim got a gun out of one of his pockets and handed it to her. The boy spontaneously started producing panicky yelps.

"Let's introduce him to you first. This is Kyle. His father died a few years ago and he's his mother's little sunshine." Jim looked at Monica after every few words to check if she was showing emotion yet. "And today's the day he'll die. Right Kyle?"

Kyle started crying hysterically and Jim answered that with a smile. "Right. Kyle, say hi to the lady."

The boy shook his head and rested his head on his knees, still crying.

"So impolite," Moriarty said, amused. "Brave, too, to just disobey me. Such a shame that the time has come for this bravery to perish." He looked at the gun Monica was holding. "Go for it, kitten. Shoot him."

She looked straight into his eyes, being aware that he thought she wouldn't do it. "Oh, I won't just do it. I'll do it with pleasure." After having said that, she aimed the gun at the little heap of sadness in the wardrobe. Kyle looked up at her with one last pleading look, at which she said with a smile: "I'll find your mum too." A loud gunshot was heard and then Kyle's body collapsed.

"Interesting, interesting," Jim mumbled as he looked down at the body. He nonchalantly stuck his hand in his pockets and moved his gaze to meet Monica's. "Good job, I'm impressed."

Monica presented an arrogant smile and looked straight back at him.

"I'd practice your look of shock, if I were you. The cops should be here in five minutes." He turned his back to her and walked past Ronan out of the door. Then he turned to her one last time. "Enjoy prison, darling, I hope they don't rip you apart in there." As soon as he'd spoken these words, he left her in that room, with Ronan still blocking the doorway: the only way out.

She looked around, trying to find a way to escape, but nothing she came up with seemed possible. If she jumped through the window here, she'd probably end up with a broken leg, which would definitely get her caught. Climbing down wasn't an option either, because she could clearly see a gun sticking out from Ronan's pocket. She silently cursed James Moriarty and his evil, genius plans.

Five minutes later, the police arrived and Monica had thought of something to get out of this mess. Jim Moriarty had made a mistake and that mistake was time. Five minutes were enough for Monica's brain to come up with something that was just enough for her to escape.

Cops came into the house from every possible entrance while shouting all kinds of stuff. Monica looked around to see what Ronan would do to get away from the police, but he already was nowhere to be found. The cops now came stomping into the room she was in and instead of struggling or trying to get away, she fell to her knees and tears fell from her cheeks.

"Miss? Please put your hands on the back of your head," one of the cops told her and she immediately obeyed, looking the cop in his blue eyes with her teary green ones.

"I don't... I didn't..." she stammered, her limbs turning weak. "He's dead," she whispered barely audible and pointed to the closet.

"Who's dead?" he carefully asked.

"The boy," she said, her eyes fixated on seemingly nothing. "The angel."

Don't be a silent reader! Leave in the comments what you think Monica's plan is...