I couldn't believe it... I didn't want to believe it. Sheriff Watson, the town's most trusting person, the father of the man I love, is the killer? "No," I shook my head to get the hallucinations out, to actually see the killer and not imagine anyone else; but that's the thing, it was the person I least expected- that everyone did not expect. "This can't be possible." I whimpered in disbelief. "This can't be. You can't be..."
Sheriff Watson slowly remove the hoodie from his hair to show his full realistic face that prove even more that he was not the man I knew for the past two years- the man I saw as a father figure. "Put the gun down, Zaire." His voice was calm, normal.
It only made me hold the gun tighter, aiming straight at his chest. "Back off! H-how can you do this? Kill the people that cared about you."
He scoffed, his lips turned into a small smirk. "The best targets are always the soft ones." Sheriff Watson or should I say John, looked down at Tanya's body as an example.
"Gabriel? Does he know?!" Please god... please say no. John did not answer, it was all a game to him; to see me suffer. "Answer me!" I cried out, my heart pounded faster than before, my eyes turned glossy in a sign of fear; not because of his presence, but because of my own emotions.
John still did not answer, instead he toyed with me with his eyes, those dark brown eyes that looked into my soul- tearing my heart out visually and eating it- that's what he wanted to do at that very moment. He stepped close, dangerously close that made me pull that trigger; fortunately for him the kick back made me miss just an inch from his head. One bullet left, use it wisely.
"This thing is loaded, you better start cooperating or one will go through your fucking chest."
The killer took my threat as a caution and a lesson, "No! He doesn't know."
I felt a form of relief, still I worried. With my gun at his chest, I reached to get my phone so I can call Aunt Joyce, the one thing I hated about the pool is the lack of service. "Shit," I mumbled. "Alright, we're gonna walk out of here."
"Seriously?" He questioned. "Like you said yourself, everyone cares about their Sheriff. What would you think will happen if they see you holding a gun at my head? They'll shoot you down with no hesitation."
"Not if I shoot you first. At least there would be two murderers gone from this earth." I was willing to kill, to get revenge on every girl that met his wrath (even Tanya). The blonde was a bitch, I can't deny that, but no one deserves the fate of death; especially not be a psychopath. I clicked the gun once again, oddly I did not panic when the thought of taking him down like a dog came upon me; it was a joyful sensation in the back of my mind; the sick part of humanity that no one wanted to endure.
I pulled he trigger with no hesitation, once again I forgotten about the kick back and hit his arm; no where that would cause true damage. "Shit!" I kept pulling the trigger as if bullies would magically appear, but luck was not on my side. I ran, trying my best not to fall from the slippery flats and equally as slippery floor. My plans touched the door, the smell of weed filled my nose and the loud music invaded my ears; I was so close to alarming them of the killer- but how could I if they didn't hear the gunshots and when his large bloody gloves hands covered my mouth before I could draw a breath.
****
I watched his every move, his lay minute plans and frustrating mumbling; he did not plan any of it. One thing I know about the old man is his way of planning everything, without his schedule he'll go nuts. In this case, I wasn't supposed to walk in on him doing his sinful deeds, nor was he supposed to kidnap me tonight. Either way, I was his hostage underground, I don't exactly know where- considering the killer managed to put duct tape over my mouth and clave a cotton bag over my head before he stuffed me into his trunk.
I was tied to an old rusted metal chair, the rope was eating at my skin and the position was putting tension on my shoulders and ass. At least I wasn't in pain like John, I watched him lean on an old wooden table in front of a dirty mirror while trying to stitch up the bullet wound, I have to say, the pain and agony on his face made me smile bright.
"Twenty-three years." I voiced, making him stop his self-care actions. "You managed to go twenty-three years without getting caught, especially with a child for most of those years. How?"
John continues as if my questions were complete nonsense. "We're not going to do this."
"Do what?"
"I'm not doing that whole back story thing, it's cliche and rather Hollywood."
I scoffed and rolled my eyes slowly, mainly to take in my surroundings. Underground, wooden walls, old tools, a small bed that needed to be replaced, no exit out nor a window. "I'm going to die so you rather tell me, or I'm going to annoy the hell out of you. Unless you get it over with." I didn't want to die, nor did I want to be tortured to death or worse.
John finished up his last stitch before cleaning himself up and placing a slightly dirty cloth on top of his wound, "You would want that, won't you? I always knew you were a sad girl, but I never knew you were depressed."
"You don't know me."
"Actually I do." He looked at my straight on, a smirk upon his face that I would want to shoot off. "You'll be surprised how much a teenage boy would talk when it involves his crush."
I tugged on the restraints, it only dug deeper into my soft skin- I could feel the drops of blood going down my hand, dripping from my fingertips and hitting the dirty concrete floor. Oddly, I didn't realize I was barefooted until my spine shivered and a gush of air hit my toes. "Gabriel's mother, did you kidnap her, trapped her underground... rape her?"
John cackled as if I told a sick joke, "I don't rape, that's not what I do."
"Great, the sociopath has standards. So she was willing to sleep with you? Then why kill her."
"Gabriel's mother did die of a disease. Why do you think I was the only psychopath? Women can be psychotic as well."
I took a deep breath of soil and sewage, "So Bonnie and Clyde, killing young woman while your child is at home eating cereal. How romantic?"
John pulled a stool from under the desk and popped a squat, he rolled his shoulders to release the discomfort but it only gotten worse. "Do you actually think that Gabriel doesn't have a vicious bone in his body? All those fights he has at school, the rage he holds."
"Like any other teenage boy."
"When he was seven he killed the neighbor dog, of course it was on accident but he didn't feel any remorse whatsoever. I've never..."
"He was a child, they don't know what they've done. Don't manipulate me, you already have me tied up; just get it over with."
John reached into his back pocket to only pull out the gun, letting it hang from his pinkie. "Do you think suicide runs in your family like my psychotic genes?"
"What?"
"Well, considering your father was going to commit suicide, his father, then his grandmother. I would say you have that gene. You hide that gene with hobbies and rage, I'm impressed actually." Still, I pulled on my restraints, hoping to get free from one snap. John walked over to me after setting the gun on the table and replacing it with a butcher's knife. "I would let you do the honors, but I can exactly trust you with a weapon."
"You'll break Gabriel's heart," I blurted out. "He'll know that I wouldn't kill myself, especially here. He'll know the killer did this and won't stop until he figures it out it's you the whole time. I doubt you'll kill your own son."
John's lips turned thin as the truth hit him hard, there was the man behind that beast. "He'll have to get over it." He grabbed my shoulder, preparing to cut my throat in a way that even a regular idiot would know it was a murder, luckily for me he was interrupted by the book shelf moving across the concrete floor as if there were a secret passage on the other side (which it is). "You'll supposed to be watching Gabriel, why are you here?"
"Making sure you didn't kill my trophy." Why am I'm not surprised, that fucking doctor? The muscle of this operation.
"She knows to damn much, we can't keep her."
"You kept Jane."
John removed the knife from my throat, he stood up straight and rolled his shoulders. "There's other towns and girls. Pick another."
"I don't want to." Miller protested by stepped closer.
"We're not going to fight about this."
"Fine, at least let me get some alone time with her. Fifteen minutes." His lips stretched into a smug smirk, one that made me shiver and panic even more on the inside. John hesitated before agreeing to this, even though he's not raping anyone personally- he's sure as hell a huge part of it. They switched places, John left the knife behind while Miller took the space in front of me.
I swallowed the lump in my throat, stared at Miller head on and sent him the most murderous glare I could muster. "Which girls did you kill?" I already knew he did most of the work, such as Yolanda.
Miller pulled the stool closer, sat directly across from me with a curious look upon his face. Being alone with him was like wearing a meat suit in the lions den, dangerous and obviously one of us is going to get out of here; unfortunately one of us won't be me. "Gabriel has good taste, both if them has good taste."
Aunt Joyce, how did I forget she use to share a bed with John; she was played too. I adjusted myself in the seat, all while tugging on the restraints no matter how much blood I'm losing or the potential of the deep cut getting infected. "Do what you want, freak? But just know I'm not going down without a fight."
Miller smirk became deeper, his eyes flashed for the need of dominance- an animalistic instinct- he kicked himself off the stool, stepping close in my space; if my ankles weren't tied up as well, I would of kicked him in the balls. His dirty clammy fingers touched my cheek, slowly running his cold skin on mine. The freak hummed, his hot breath hitting my ear. "That's what I want, a fight. It'll last longer."
I shivered, the fear coursed through my veins like adrenaline. My heart was beating like a base drum, his body hovered over mine. "You're bleeding...love."
I gagged at the name only Gabriel would use, even he didn't use that. The rope was suddenly loose from my wrist when Miller reached into his pocket to take out, yet another knife- my pocket knife. I rolled my wrist and watched as the blood drip down my arm.
"Better?" Miller stuffed the knife back into his pocket and continued to assault me with his creepy touch. His dirty fingers combed through my hair, "I like your hair better in curls, brings out your independence- freedom."
"Don't tell me you're interested in black culture. If you weren't a serial killer, I would of considered you as an understandable guy."
He scoffed and slowly rolled his eyes, "Take off your shirt."
"Hell no!"
"You did it for me before."
"It wasn't meant for you. Like I said, I'm not going down with out a fight you asshole." Miller looked down at his wrist watch as if I was wasting his time, which is good because I rather die than be touched by him. He grabbed a handful of my hair, making me whimper from the sudden pain while looking into his horrible cold green eyes. His lips was forced upon me like a hammer, the taste of blood and oil made me even more sicker as his other hand groped my breast. I wanted to throw up in his mouth, push him off but he was too forceful.
However, it was the greatest opportunity for me to strike, even if it were to kill me. I slipped my hand into his loose pockets, opened the knife while Miller slipped his tongue into my mouth. Closing my eyes, I bite down on the soft tissue until I tasted blood and he was screaming in pain.
I spit the piece of tongue and blood onto the ground, grinning like a psychopath. Miller choked on his own fluid, his eyes no longer held that cold stare of dominance- only fear. "Come close to me asshole and your tongue won't be the only thing bit off." I warned with a vicious tone in my voice before leaning down and cutting the rope from my ankles, all while keeping a watchful eye on him.
Miller was still stunned, but he came back to reality when I stood to my feet with the small pocket knife out to cut his throat. No words were needed to describe his current mood; raging and out for blood. I was prepared to die, to end this bastards life even if it cost my own. Did that make me suicidal? Maybe so.
Each step he made was reflected with a cautious step back, my hand shook in fear and uneasiness as I was willing to take another person's life, even when he deserves it, I was falling into that dark hole I could never crawl out of, all because I wanted revenge.
"Come on," I pushed out in frustration as my conscious started to process what I'm trying to do.
Miller smirked, even when he was bleeding terribly from the tongue. He knew I was breaking, coming to my senses and finally being human. If he could speak, then he would of taunted me- manipulating me into giving in to my own death or torture. Little did he know, I have not yet lost the beast inside me nor my will of vengeance.
Taking a deep breath, calming my heart jut a little- I dropped my guard and whimpered like a scared girl. A ploy in this, a manipulation. Miller fell for it easily, his guard dropped slightly as he took cautious steps closer; the dominance in his eyes were coming back. However, it immediately died when I drove the steel into his chest by grabbing the back of his neck, looking him dead in the eyes and smirking. He fell on the ground like a sack of potatoes. One down, another to go.
The gun was no use, so I went to something that was sloppy and heavy. A sledgehammer leaning on the wall and waited next to the staircase for Gabriel's father, I didn't want to promote the idea; but he would hurt me if I don't.
It felt like forever before that secret passage way opened, the smell of sewage grew stronger along with blood from Miller's body. John stepped in, obviously confused on the sudden disappearance of his co-killer and hostage. I swung the sledgehammer, hitting his stomach with a crack of a rib, and then his spine- making him yell out in agony.
The secret passage way was actually a sewer with broken old pipes and leaking brick walls, it was dark; only a speck of light guiding my way. I had to squat down and crawl the rest of the way, I'm sure there was another entrance the two came through but the one available to me as the moment lead time to a dead in. Actually a long tall stone structure that seemed like a well. The cabin, I'm at the cabin.
"Zaire!" John yelled, the rage in his voice made the place shake and my insides. I could feel him closing in, any minute he'll cut my throat and nail me to the stones.
I touched the stones, the dark area was no help along with my loud pounding heart. Cold rusted metal filled my hand, a built in ladder. One by one, I climbed the ladder until I were at the top; my head hits the thick wood covering the top. "Fuck." How can I forget?
"Zaire, what have you done!?"
I pushed the flat wood, it budged a little with a jiggle of the loose latch. This time I pushed harder, several times until the moonlight struck down on me with a surprise hug if freedom- or at least the taste of it. I practically fell out of the well with a thud and pain in my shoulder, the field was empty with wet grass, singing crickets and the dark mass surrounding the cabin with a haunting sense.
I whimpered while jogging away, John was probably hot on my ass but if I were to turn around, I'll be like a dumb blonde and fall. The gravel road was close, the road was close.
"Don't make this hard on me." John spoke. "We both know you've cross that line of no return."
He's right, I did. I've killed a man and there were no turning back, but I didn't want to die. I had many things in front of me, my life and many others were beginning. I kicked my legs and kept going, don't turn back...don't look.... I was on the empty dark road heading to town, a car drive by before I could show myself. "Wait!" I yelled before waving my arms in the ear to get their attention. "Help me!" The car kept going, swerving on the road; a drunk idiot.
A loud honk made me jump and blind from the bright headlights. "Zaire," The driver jumped out immediately, showing her worried look, dark brown eyes, and pale skin.
"Aunt Joyce." I've never been so happy to see her and run into her arms. "Aunt Joyce, John- he's the killer."
"What?!" She looked me over, turning twice as pale than before. "Oh my god. We have to get you to the hospital."
"John is the killer, he's out in the woods now. He's coming,"
Aunt Joyce looked even more panicked, her eyes wandered around the area in search of the person he kidnapped and harmed me. "Get in the car."
"We need to find..." I screamed. Not because of my heart exploding in my chest, but because Aunt Joyce was taken away from me in a snap of a finger. As if she weighed nothing, she was tossed across the street by the man we thought we knew, instead he's the beast.. a monster that terrorized the town and killed my friends.
"You stupid bitch." He growled. "You think you can fucking kill me and my brother without being dragged to hell as well."
"Bring it bitch!" I had no weapon, not even a stick to defend myself. What was the point anyway? Three blast of gunpowder pierced my ears, splatter of blood rain down on me as John's body fell next to my feet. Aunt Joyce stood directly in front of me with her gun tight into her hands, tears rolled down her cheeks from the betrayal and pain. Right then and there, I knew she loved that man; even if she didn't believe it was so.