Mr. X, Page 3

  “Why did you kill him then?” I ask.

  “Business.”

  “What kind of business? Who kills people like that?”

  “My business. Now stop talking.”

  “No.”

  He lifts an eyebrow. “Do you think this is a game?”

  “No.”

  “Do you want to die?”

  “No.”

  “Then stop asking questions.”

  “I’m not just going to sit here with you pointing a gun at my head. If you think I am the type of girl to sit still and be quiet while she waits for her captor to kill her, you’re wrong.”

  He snorts and shakes his head. “Oh, I know what kind of girl you are. You’re a whore who’ll do anything for money.”

  Even though I don’t know him, his words still reach me. He’s right, but nobody has the right to call me that.

  “I’m not a whore.”

  “No?” He steps closer. Sweat rolls down my back as he stops in front of me and leans over. “You just begged me to release you. You offered yourself to a stranger, a killer, as a way out.” A devilish smile appears on his face. “As much as I would like to take you up on that offer, I have other things on my mind right now.”

  “You mean deciding whether or not you’re going to kill me?”

  “Exactly.” The smile on his face is morbidly charming. Only now do I really get a chance to look at him properly. The scar on his face is horrendous, but it’s an old one. The skin around his right eye has formed twisted scars in one giant x shape from his cheek to his eyebrow, as if something was seared into his skin. The hair on the back of my neck stands up.

  His hand lifts, and I instinctively back away. His fingers curl around my chin as he forces me to look at him. The smell of leather increases my heart rate, and it feels like my skin is on fire where he touches me. His fingers gently move to my cheek, almost as if he’s caressing me. His eye stares right into mine, like he’s seeing something that’s not even there.

  I move my head away. “Don’t touch me.”

  A smirk appears on his face. “That’s amusing. I must be the only person you say that to.”

  I want to bite his fingers off after he says that, but I know it’ll get me in trouble, so I keep quiet and grind my teeth instead.

  Clearing his throat, he steps back again, still pointing the gun at my face. He checks his watch and rubs his temple. It’s almost as if he’s waiting for something. His expression is dark and he looks frustrated. The watch must have something to do with it, because he can’t stop looking at it in between checking if I’m still there. His tongue quickly darts out to wet his lips, and somehow my attention is drawn to it. If I want to escape, I’d better do it before the time he’s waiting for runs out.

  I slowly get up from the bed in the most sensual way I can, putting the focus on the fact that I’m only wearing panties and a sultry red top from the club. He’s completely rigid, but his eye follows my every movement as I step into his shadow. I try to seduce him with my eyes, licking my lips, while I touch his arm and rub my breasts against him. His face is unmoving, not showing even the least bit of interest.

  Until that one time he blinks.

  There’s my chance. I don’t need to seduce him to escape. All I needed was a tiny distraction.

  I immediately make a run for it, the door within my grasp. Just before I can touch the doorknob, he grabs my arm and jerks me away from my freedom.

  “Oh, no you don’t,” he says, pulling me back by my arms. He has them locked tightly behind my back as he drags me away from the door and throws me onto the bed. A cry escapes my mouth as I land on the mattress, my eyes zooming in on the gun that’s pointed at my head again.

  “Say bye to your pitiful life, Jay.”

  “There is only one good – knowledge; and only one evil – ignorance.” - Socrates

  Chapter 2

  X

  Thursday, August 15th, 2013. 9:00 p.m.

  I check my watch. Only thirty minutes until I have my next job. Another boring clean kill for a secretive client. I hate those types of kills where I don’t get to do anything exciting, but at least it pays good money. It’s nearby, which is fortunate since it means I have time to come here for a little update as well. I should get ready for the job, though, but this bitch I’m waiting for is late. I sigh.

  From the sidelines I watch her dance around the pole. It’s been some time since I last saw her in the flesh, and I have to say it still stops me in my tracks. She’s still as flexible as ever, her long legs elegantly hugging the pole as she hangs from it. Her dark brown hair follows the curves of her shoulders, accentuating her beautiful body. The way she looks at customers with those deadly seductive chocolate eyes of hers … it enthralls them. I know, because I’ve been in that exact position before. At times like these it’s hard to forget why I hate her so much.

  I can’t wait to get out of here.

  The music is loud and annoying, so I’m glad when Hannah finally arrives. “Hey,” she says, throwing her long, straight blonde locks back. “Wow, I haven’t seen you here in ages! I thought you only wanted to use the phone from now on?”

  I give Hannah a nod and then point toward the door in the back. I don’t want to stay here and keep talking. Being here makes the bile rise up in my throat. Seeing her makes me confused. I don’t do confused.

  “Right … to the back it is,” Hannah says as she follows me to the back.

  When we’re out of sight of the customers and Don I ask, “Did you do as I asked?”

  “Yeah, it took me a while to find one and get him interested in the idea, but once I told him about how happy the previous customers were, he was totally in for it.”

  “Good,” I say, grinning. Very good.

  “Make sure it’s hard and rough.”

  “He will be, no doubt about it.” She holds up her hand, tapping her foot like the unappreciative money-hungry wolf she is. Just another one of those whores.

  I lean in and grab her hand, pushing it to the back of the wall, cornering her. Her breathing is ragged and her eyes widen as I pin her against the wall. With my gun against her belly she has nowhere to go. It’s hungry for blood, but I don’t want to feed it with the blood of the people I might still need to use.

  “You should be happy you’re still alive,” I whisper in her ear.

  Hannah shivers, her lips letting out small puffs of air as I retreat again.

  “You will report to me tomorrow,” I say, and then I pull back the gun and put it back in my holster. “Then you will get your money, and not a day sooner.”

  “But I got you exactly what you wanted! I’ve earned―”

  “You got me nothing,” I hiss, clenching her chin between my index finger and thumb. “I got you your drugs. Your money. Your life. You owe it to me. You owe me everything. I do not owe you.” Tears are in her eyes, but I don’t give a shit about them. It’s pathetic, really. As if crying is going to solve her problem. She got into this mess, and it’s her own fault she got involved with me.

  I let go of her chin and squint as she hugs the wall to get as much space between us as possible. She rubs her chin and whimpers. “I thought I was doing what you wanted.”

  “I don’t want anything from you other than what I tell you to do. You’ll get what I give you. End of story. Now get back to work.”

  Her blue eyes drift off to the floor, her left hand tentatively scratching the top of her right hand. Such a weakling. “Okay …” She turns around and attempts to walk away, but I grab her hand and stop her in her tracks.

  “Do not speak of this to anyone, do you understand?”

  “I won’t, sir. Never.”

  With narrowed eyes I watch her face as she speaks the words. I can tell when those bitches are lying. Lucky for her she isn’t. This time …

  I flash her a brief half-smile. “Good girl.”

  ***

  Thursday, August 15th, 2013. 11:00 p.m.

  Watching Jay tie hersel
f to the bed is fucking riling me up. As much as I hate to admit it, that body of hers still manages to get me aroused. So much for having control. I might have her under my thumb, but my cock … it has a mind of its own. My gun isn’t the only thing pointing in her direction.

  When she’s done with her feet, she looks up at me with those pleading eyes that scream fear. It’s such a turn-on and at the same time I hate seeing her look at me like that. I hate her looking at me, period. I hate everything about her.

  There aren’t a lot of people I don’t hate, but I hate her especially.

  “Bind your left hand to the bedpost.” I flick my gun and she takes a short gasp of air the moment I wave it about. It makes me laugh when they act like that, all scared of this puny metal thing. They should be more scared about what I could do to them if I had my tools with me. Alas, it’s not always a good day.

  I grab the bottle of scotch standing on the cupboard and pour myself a drink while I keep an eye on her, making sure she doesn’t do anything stupid like try to escape. Like she could ever escape my grasp. That’s a laugh.

  I admit, I am an asshole. Do I care? Not in a million years. I do what I do because I love seeing the fear in their eyes before I kill them. I love the thrill of preparing the kill, thinking about all the ways I can make them scream in agony. Of course, their death is not the only thing I enjoy. My profession comes with grand rewards that I’ll gladly make use of. Swimming in gold means killing a few people here and there. Not everyone lives like that. You could say I’m pretty lucky. Or just really smart. It’s probably a combination of both since I chose this path, but I would never have become this way if it wasn’t for … her.

  She sobs as the final strap is wrapped around her wrist. She looks at me, the expression on her face cold and heartless. Closed off from everything around her, as if she’s planning to kill me. I love it. It reminds me of myself.

  I set my scotch down on the table and pick up my gun. Walking over to her, I point downwards, instructing her to lie down on the bed.

  “Please …” she begs.

  “Shhh.” I put my finger on my lips. “You don’t want to spill something you’ll regret.” I lean forward and inspect the rope around her wrist to see if it’s tied up properly. It’s a shoddy rope, one I carry around at all times, but not one I’m too fond of. It’s sort of an emergency rope, and it saddens me to use it because I don’t like it. I would have preferred to use something much nicer on her. Not that she deserves it, but still, I like my works to be beautiful. Like a piece of art.

  Her lips part. “Let me—”

  I jerk on the rope. A short squeak escapes her mouth. She should watch her mouth. Bad things come from there. “Like I said … shut up.”

  “But why? Why me? And how do you know my name?” The sudden terror in her eyes captures my attention. A cold rush in their bodies, a staggered breath, hearts that skip beats. I love watching it unfold. Except now.

  With her, it’s different.

  She stops me in my tracks and makes me remember why I hate her so much. Why I am who I am. Why she doesn’t remember me.

  I hate that part too.

  I pull the rope tighter until she can’t move her wrist anymore. Her jaw is clenched and her lips look like those of a ravenous dog who’s about to bite the head off its victim. Magnificent.

  Smiling at her, I walk to where her feet are and do the same, keeping eye contact with her at all times. I want her to see how I love watching her squirm in the bonds that can’t be removed by anyone else but me; someone she despises and fears. It’s so unfortunate that she has no recollection of how much more I despise her than she can ever despise me.

  Which is all the more reason to keep her tied up here. I should make her suffer; she deserves it. Although I never imagined I would go about it like this, it sure beats the hell out of just watching. Now I get to participate.

  “Are you comfortable, little bird?” I ask, walking to the other side of the bed.

  “Fuck you.”

  “Now, now, I thought I had already established that is not the purpose of this intrusion.”

  “Well then what the fuck do you want from me? Are you here to watch me do myself? Are you here to kill me? Are you going to sit there and wait until I confess my darkest secrets to you? Or do you want me to do a little dance for you, huh?” she muses. “Because I sure as hell have no clue why the fuck you are in my room, trying to fucking blow my brains out!”

  I laugh and shake my head at her outburst. Grabbing her other hand, I secure it to the bedpost and tie up her last remaining free limb. Strapping it up nicely until she hisses from the pain, I say, “None of that.” I wink. “Or maybe all of them.”

  “Oh, screw you! I don’t deserve any of this. What have I ever done to you?”

  I frown, gazing down upon her. Her eyes speak the truth. “You don’t remember, do you?”

  Her eyes widen and her lips part. It takes her a few seconds to answer. “Remember what?”

  “Everything.”

  Grabbing her hair, I force her to lean back and look at me. Gaze at the hideousness that marks my face. Accept the fate that she’s been given just as it was given to me.

  Time hasn’t had any effect on her. She is still a beauty, a seductress, a sinful dancer, a wild girl, and I am still the ugly monster she made me turn into. Nothing has changed. She used to be the only thing on my mind, and now she still is. All I wanted was for her to be mine; now I want her to be dead.

  Even after all these years, all this torment, all the hate, all the jealousy stored inside me hasn’t vanished. It’s only gotten stronger.

  But so has my desire to teach her a lesson. To show her what she could have had.

  So I hold her hair tight, pulling it back until it pains her, and then press my lips firmly on top of hers. They are sweet and luscious and all I remember them being.

  Until she draws her fangs.

  A jolt of pain sears my lips. A metallic taste enters my mouth. I withdraw.

  The bitch bit me.

  My eyes narrow as I grab her chin. “Bad girl.”

  She spits in my face.

  I wipe it off with my hand and smear it on her lips and cheeks, making sure to clean my hand on her face. “You’re a filthy one, you know that? If I wanted your spit I would have shoved my cock in your mouth.”

  I smile. She has dick-sucking lips, worthy of being face-fucked. For a moment I consider the option.

  “Fuck you!” she says, pulling me from my delicious thoughts.

  Such a potty mouth. It’s annoying.

  I take a deep breath and look at her. Her cheeks are red and her chest is rosy. A sign of distress. Or a sign of excitement. I can’t say I don’t feel it myself. Just that one kiss reminded me how much I miss it, and just how much I envy that she took it all away from me.

  I grab the curtain and rip off a piece, twisting it up. Then I stuff it in her mouth and tie it behind her head. Her muffles won’t penetrate this material. I stand up and walk back to my seat next to the table. Turning around, I admire my work. Well, sort of. It is partially her work, but it was still instructed by me, thus it is my work.

  She grinds her teeth, jerking at the ropes with her wrists as if it will loosen them. Nothing will free her. Nothing can save her. Not now that I have stepped into her life again.

  Fuck, I still can’t believe it was her in this room. I expected a random girl, and found her instead. Fate has a humorous way of messing with people’s lives. It’s almost pitiful. However, I won’t let it interfere. Not this time. I won’t let this get the better of me.

  The gun is in my hands once again. Her whimpers fill my ears but don’t drown out her silent screams. Her eyes shift between the gun and me, whilst my eye is locked on hers. I want her to see me the moment I erase her existence and she fades from this life into the next. I raise the gun to eyelevel and aim for her head. My finger is on the trigger, ready to deliver the final blow. She has to die. This isn’t what I wanted, but it mu
st be done. I guess our playtime has come to an end. I knew it had to end sometime, but not that it’d be this quick. Looking at her lying there makes me remember all the things I wish I had forgotten, just like she has.

  Clenching my teeth, I take another deep breath and focus on her face. She doesn’t remember me. I hate her for it, because she wasn’t supposed to forget. It’s all her fault.

  However, when I look into her eyes, I don’t see what I thought I would see. She’s not an innocent, but she knows. Her eyes are full of regret. I thought I would see fear, anger, or pain, but instead I see her wishing it’ll be over soon. I could end it right now. I could pull the trigger and put an end to all of it. Everything. Even me.

  I could, but I can’t.

  Somehow, this is the only thing I can’t do. After all the things she’s caused, I don’t want it to end like this. I want to make her suffer a bit longer. She doesn’t deserve my mercy, but I have to think about this. Do I really want her dead? Or just severely punished?

  I still can’t believe this was my assignment.

  Watching the tears roll down her cheeks, I clear my throat and lower the gun. Her chest rises, air coming out in short gasps as she blinks away the wetness in her eyes.

  “You’re not going to kill me?” she mutters through the cloth.

  “I guess you’re gonna have to wait a little longer,” I say, walking back to my chair. Slumping down, I grab the glass of scotch and gulp it down all at once. Goddammit. I’ve become a pussy. I should do something about it, but first I need to decide which choice to make.

  I rub my forehead and check my watch. Only six hours left until Antonio’s here. Shit. Only six hours to decide what I’m going to do. Six hours to decide her fate. Whatever choice I make, this won’t end well. Both our lives have been at stake since the moment I entered this room.

  The only question left is: who will surrender first?

  “The first step toward success is taken when you refuse to be a captive of the environment in which you first find yourself.” – Mark Caine