Pointed Gun

Sweet dreams, Kitten

Syncear

THE HEAVY breathing and unsteady heart made me feel seconds away from exploding and I was free of the nightmare. This was extremely hard to manage. I couldn't grasp the inevitable. He had his arm around my waist, leaving my torso to dangle behind him. All I could see now was the bright orange light of the sun rising through the tops of the trees, and his mutt trailing at his heels.

He didn't watch the path ahead because he was far busier ripping my face apart with his eyes. Right now, he was on high alert and would stop at nothing to make sure I made it to our destination in many pieces or one.

"How are you doing back there?" He asked, voice filled with what I would take to be fake concern.

"I would be better if you just let me go." I mumbled, head flopping against his rock hard back unwillingly.

He snickered a bitter laugh as his grip tightened painfully. "Too bad I wasn't talking to you. That question was directed to my boy back there."

I huffed a sigh, Of course you were.

It didn't take long before we were traveling through his backyard and right back through my escape door. Since the day had returned, I was given the chance to get a better view of his home. The huge kitchen stocked with what appeared to be the finest black stainless steel appliances shimmered a greeting. Gray granite counters and island covered with nothing more than a sink, and a glass dining table with dusty white decorative plates.

By the looks of everything in there, he'd never touched any of it. Maybe he didn't have time to cook when he was too busy snatching people for fun.

Through the formal living room, I received the same vibe. Leather gray couches in front of a large stone fireplace sat completely untouched. Every pillow positioned precisely, and strangely enough, not a single family photo occupied the walls. Only abstract art here and there. This place was too beautiful for a single man to create alone. This home was blessed with a woman's touch. But whose was the million dollar question that I would never win the answer to.

Thinking back to the small photo I saw in that room earlier, it made me wonder if that was his family. Or one he killed and couldn't get out of his mind. No, the look of pain on his face when I asked about it seemed too real. It burned too deep to just be a massacre. Maybe he'd lost his family and just couldn't get it off his chest. Maybe he was doing this to concrete the ache.

Approaching the staircase, He began to ascend the steps until the claws of the dog distracted him and he swiftly stood in his paths.

"No! You know better." he scolded the little demon, causing him to bow his head in defeat. Although, obediently, he backed away from the steps and to the wall beside it where he stood guard.

Poor little guy. Even when he nearly took my leg off, I still couldn't help but gawk at his cute little face.

Right after that, he continued back up the stairs with me in tow. No reason to fight anymore. Being slightly injured canceled the possibility of running and actually getting far. Plus, he was deadly smart and had even smarter help. When put together, It made a fat slice of pain and torture if I so much as thought about trying again. I didn't aspire to be trapped there. But, until I was certain I could slip right from under his nose, I had no other choice.