The Sadistic

Chapter Twenty-Five

Robertson was nodding off and every time he came back to life he swerved violently to avoid hitting a tree. He eventually parked the car in the middle of no where and took a thirty minute nap.

He awoke at dawn and his phone- as he expected- was dead. He sighed deeply, tossing it in the back seat.

He felt more lively but still tired. He checked the car for any sort of food and found some mentos in the glove compartment.

He had forgotten to bring resources with him, to keep him alive. He had been so stressed out that he even forgot to bring water.

"Fuck sake." He mumbled bitterly, throwing a mento into his mouth. To his disgust, it was soft and more than likely gone off but he chewed away.

He scouted the eastern side today, marking an X on his map. His tank was half empty and he wasn't sure how much longer he could travel before it emptied.

The eastern part of the lake looked more deserted than ever, there were fallen trees, dead leaves and a couple bones lying around.

He spent the next two hours, driving over every inch of eastern side, his stomach in knots. He only had two more sections to cover and if he found nothing, he'd lose it.

He found nothing on the eastern side and sighed deeply. He'd scout south next and hopefully, he'd find something on the other side.

~
Cheverston threw popcorn in the air and caught it in his mouth as he surveyed Robertson who was restlessly driving through the woods.

"This is so much fun." Cheverston said between a mouthful of popcorn.

"I can tick tormenting Robertson off my bucket list." He said happily, ticking off the box.

He yet had to accomplish killing Jade and killing Robertson.

He was still deciding whether to kill Jade or not. She could be a use to him, but on the other hand he found her an annoying whining bitch.

He took a large swig of brandy before slipping out of his little hiding spot and joining Rachel in the kitchen.

She was chopping up vegetables, preparing dinner. His hands snaked around her waist as he pulled her in for a kiss.

"You've no idea how long I've been wanting to do that," he murmured in her ear.

Rachel grinned and spun around facing him and they shared compassionate kisses.

There was a gag and Chevertson looked up to see Jade, nose crinkled in disgust.

He narrowed his slits. "Show some respect, and when did I ever say you could leave your room?"

He knew Jade longed to hurl an insult at him but she kept it to herself. "You never said I had to stay in there either."

"Besides," she mumbled bitterly. "I'm hungry." She opened the fridge and Cheverston slammed it shut on her.

"Your mother is making us dinner," he sneered. "you'll have to wait."

Jade glared in Rachel's direction and looked up at him. "I'd rather starve then eat that tramps food."

Cheverston raised his arm to slap her but Rachel caught his wrist. "Darren, it's ok, really."

Cheverston looked back at her and lowered his hand, glaring at Jade. He grabbed her by the arm, hauling her down the corridor.

He hissed into her ear. "Next time, you won't be so lucky."

He opened the door and kicked her with the back of his foot. Jade fell forward, walloping her arm off the nightstand.

Cheverston slammed the door, locking it and walked back down the house, grabbing his jacket, heading out.

~
Robertson drove tiredlessly around the southern section. He would eventually have to stop his search and refill on fuel and get a bite to eat.

A house came into view and Robertson immediately stopped the car, turning off his headlights, grabbing his shotgun in the process.

He got out of the car, making sure he had all his weapons. He made sure he had his torch and he made his way up towards the house.

It was now growing darker and by the faint light that was left in the sky, he could make out chimney smoke.

His heart pounded in his chest.

This is it

He clicked the safety off his desert eagle and made his way up the back.

He dared a glance in one of the windows and by the light of the fire, he could make out a shadow. It looked as if someone was lounging by the fire.

He took a shaky deep breath and opened the back door. It creaked open to his dismay and he went into a crouch and slowly made his way inside.

It was pitch black and cold. He switched on his flashlight, surveying his surroundings.

The one thing he didn't notice was the camera in corner.

He proceeded down the corridor, opening doors and aiming his gun wildly, ready to fire at any sign of movement.

He turned right into the next corridor and the door to what he presumed was the living room, was slightly ajar.

Hands now cold with sweat, he stretched out his hand and flung open the door.

He fired at the figure on the couch, a loud bang erupting through the empty house.

He slowly made his way towards the figure. He got a look at the face and jumped back. It was an already dead girl, around the age of fifteen, throat slit, eyes wide open, limp on the couch.

He had just matters worse by putting a bullet through her skull.

He lowered his gun and looked around, flummoxed.

Someone had clearly been here, placed the girl here and lit a fire, to make it look like someone was actually home.

Robertson scrutinised the room, still clueless. Was this another one of Chevertson's sick games?

In the corner of the room, nestled a picture on top of a table. But something felt off about it.

He approached the picture and between it and the vase, was what he recognised as a camera. He picked it up and a countdown suddenly began.

He looked underneath the table and a bomb was about to go off in ten seconds and in counting.

Robertson sprinted, running down the corridors, making his to the front door. He barley had it open when the bomb went off.

The explosion, blasted him forward, out of the house. He hit his head on a rock and he groaned, his ears ringing.

His vision blurred and he could barley make out his car in the distance.

His weapons were scattered in front of him and before he had time to reach them, a boot stood on top of his wrist.

He flipped over onto his back. He could make out a dazed version of what he recognised to be Cheverston, smirking down at him.

His puzzled face turned into anger, as he tried to get up Cheverston's foot held him down.

"It's good to see you, Ryan."

Before he had time to react, the last thing he remembered was Cheverston's boot being brought down on his face.