Mr. Kidnapper [Kellic] [Book 1]

Chapter 7 - Tumblin' Backwards

« Kellin »

I was attracted to Vic.

I couldn’t deny it any longer than I already have.

Vic was probably freaked out by my bipolar actions. One minute, I’d be concerned for him, the next, I’d be inflicting pain upon him, and then I’d be kissing his cheek. It must be a little scary. He seemed different ever since I killed Dawson before his eyes, but I really didn’t care. He should know what I’m capable of.

To be honest, I actually did care. I terrorized him when I lit Dawson into flames. Vic was surely scarred for life. At night, while I would lay in my bed two stories above, I could hear his light screaming, which was mostly tuned out by the soundproof concrete walls of the basement. I let him keep the tape off his mouth as long as he behaved, and so far, he had, so I trusted him. Just a little bit.

My ‘parents’ finally went on their already-delayed vacation. Thank God it was a cruise; they’d be going all over the Pacific, so I was able to go a while without beatings and Vic’s constant asking me if I was ‘alright.’ Doesn’t he understand that I’ve never been and probably never will be alright?

A hard, fast knock ripped me away from my thoughts. An automatic scowl formed upon my lips as I ran downstairs to answer it. I had absolutely no idea who it could be. I leaned up a bit and looked through the peep-hole. It was the squeaky, obnoxious Jack Barakat. He looked pissed. I opened the door lazily and leaned on the doorframe, my angry expression never fading.

“Rian came here and never came back,” Barakat spat matter-of-factly, pushing past me. He stepped inside and looked around a bit frantically; the dumbass even looked behind the couch pillows. “Where is he? What did you do to him? Is he okay? What the fuck is wrong with you, man?!”

I hated it when people asked ‘what the fuck is wrong with you.’ It struck a nerve. It crosses a boundary that you never want to cross. I could’ve sworn I felt hot steam blow out of my ears as my face turned bright red with fury. Barakat looked over at me, and I didn’t hesitate to lunge forward, seizing his neck in my hand. I squeezed my fingers as tightly as I could, cutting off his breathing. Barakat gasped and sputtered, attempting to rip my hand off, but it was no use.

Still grasping Barakat’s throat, I pushed him to the basement door, a small grin forming on my lips. Barakat’s eyes widened as I opened the door. I held him steady on the top step, leaning him back a bit; his hands tightened around my own. Keeping the crazed grin on my lips, I whispered, “Any last words?” Barakat managed to pull my hand off a bit so he could yell his last phrase.

“They’re looking for you, Vic!”

How the hell Barakat knew Vic was here, I’d never know. I simply let go completely of Barakat’s neck and he fell backwards, screaming in fear. He tumbled down the steps, making a shit load of noise, and eventually got to the bottom, unmoving and not breathing. I smiled and went back to close the front door–and lock it. With somewhat of a skip in my step, I ran down the kind of bloody stairs to see Vic freaking out

Vic’s eyes were wide and on Barakat’s limp figure. Barakat was bent in all different, inhuman directions, and his eyes were peacefully closed while blood leaked out of his nose, mouth, and somewhere on the back of his head. The boy tied up on the mattress wanted to scream; he opened his mouth, but nothing came out. His hands gripped the chains his arms were tied with, and his legs were pulling on the ropes around his ankles.