by V. F. Mason
They might be evil people, but how am I different if I’m glad they got chopped up and tortured so much that some of their families couldn’t recognize them? Justice done through the law is right, and this vendetta-like agenda is not.
Yet, I can’t help but feel grateful toward the serial killer who, with each killing, makes me sleep better at night, because the men who frequent my nightmares no longer grace this world.
But then thoughts about their families and the people who love them come to mind, reminding me that while those guys might have deserved death… their relatives didn’t, and being happy about it puts me in the same box as them.
“There is no shame in feeling relief, babe.”
“I know. But the guilt doesn’t go away anyway.”
Her brows furrow as she opens her mouth to say something, but a husky voice coated in a heavy accent booms in the room. “Mia amata donna, you do not leave the house without informing me of your whereabouts. And you absolutely do not sneak away from your security.” The minute Emilio steps inside the salon, it shrinks as his energy fills every little crack and gives a vibe of absolute power.
His brooding eyes settle on his wife, who breezily saunters to him and grabs him by the lapels of his jacket. “Hey, my beloved man.” She repeats his phrase in English and then presses her mouth to his, giving him a hot kiss right in front of me and the sales woman who is standing there, with her mouth hanging open.
Considering it’s one of the most conservative salons in the city, it’s probably never seen any action inside its doors.
I chuckle and remove the veil, addressing her so she won’t give my friends any trouble. “I’m going to buy this one. Is it possible to get all the alterations ready by next week?”
“I’m sure.” She finally finds her voice and takes the veil from me. “Do you need help with the dress?”
“No, thank you. My friend will help me should the need arise.”
“Very well, I’m going to prepare the paperwork then.” She stalks out, her face still red.
Emilio walks to me and hugs me tight, rocking me in his arms. “You are beautiful, Lila.”
“Oh, aren’t you a charmer?” I tease, and he grins, displaying all his freaking white teeth.
But then it dies on his lips, and he asks, “Where is Eugene?”
“He has some stuff to do, and we’re supposed to meet later at the restaurant with you guys, remember?” With all the wedding hoopla, we didn’t have much time to celebrate their union, and Eugene wanted to fix that.
“Right,” Emilio murmurs and then glares at his wife, and a second silent communication passes between them. He focuses his stare back on me and says, “Actually, I met him a little earlier. He said that if he didn’t get here before me, then there would be a slight change of plans.”
“Oh?” I pause on the way to the fitting room, frowning in confusion. “Is he busy with a contract?” Lately, he’s been working like crazy, so he’ll have time off during our honeymoon.
Or so he claims, at least. Besides visiting his office in New York a few times, I have no clue about his work. I know he plans to go back to Houston once we get married, and I don’t mind.
As long as we are together, nothing matters.
“No, something else, I think. He wants you to meet him at his mansion. I’ll give you the address.”
“Mansion?” I ask in disbelief, because it’s the one thing always off the table. I know he owns one, but he dodges my attempts to see it. He says his father bought it, and he hates the place. “Why?”
Emilio shrugs. “I have no clue.”
“Well, okay. So, we’ll have dinner tomorrow?”
Again, some kind of silent communication, and then he says, “Yeah, something like that.”
And although everything is right in my world and there is nothing weird in the conversation, as I go back to my fitting room, I can’t help but feel like I missed something.
But it’s ridiculous, right? It’s not like the three of them know something I’m not aware of.
Maybe Eugene’s planned a surprise for me, and Emilio’s helping him out?
Satisfied with this conclusion, I eagerly remove the dress so I can dash to my man and see what’s really going on.
I’m sure he will manage to surprise me.
Chapter Eight
Lila
“We’re here,” the cabbie says, but then frowns. “Miss, you sure you have the correct address?” I follow his gaze, and my eyes widen when I see the Victorian-style mansion surrounded by iron fencing with sharp ends.
Even though the garden around it seems spacious with different mazes, the building made out of bricks stands out even from far away, almost scaring you with its power.
Clouds loom above it as if signaling doom, and crows fly around it, their annoying cawing grating on my nerves.
All in all, if one had to give a description of this place, it’d be one out of a horror movie.
Eugene, you and your love for scary stories.
Chuckling under my breath, I give the cabbie the money and try to reassure him. “Yep. That’s my fiancé’s house. He has a thing for…” I fail to find suitable words to describe it. “…all that.” He shrugs, even though he still sends wary glances toward the building.
It only takes seconds after I get out, and he’s gone, then I jog toward the gate, which surprisingly has no security guard waiting there.
Weird. Though, based on what he’s told me, he barely spends any time here. Wouldn’t he have staff around to watch over the mansion when he’s not around?
I press the bell on the gate and wait, but nothing happens, so I try again.
Bzz. Bzz. Bzz.
But still nothing happens, as if the place is deserted. But Emilio told me he’s here, and as I’ve found out in the last couple of months, the future don of Cosa Nostra always knows everything.
I grab the gate bars to get a better peek through them at the surroundings. I find nothing but the concrete road leading to the house. “Hello! Is anybody here?” I call, and shiver a little when several birds chirp at me.
Shaking my head from the ridiculous thoughts, I try again. “Hello? My name is Lila. I really need to talk to—” I shut my mouth when a man emerges from the bushes, wearing huge, yellow gloves along with boots and holding giant-ass scissors in his hand.
What the hell?
Stepping back, I gulp a little breath, not sure how to proceed. “You’re very loud,” he says, annoyance coating his voice, and then he inserts the key into the gate, unlocking it quickly. “Enter, so you can be quiet,” he orders. And like the idiot I am, I step inside but still keep my distance from the man.
However, relief rushes through my system when I notice a hat behind his back, hanging on his neck, and several instruments peeking from his pocket, recognizing them from all those times I wandered outside in the garden and Mother screamed her lungs out that princesses don’t get dirty. “You’re a gardener.”
He nods and, without elaborating on his job, points at the house. “The door is open. Eugene is there,” he murmurs and disappears behind the bushes before I have the chance to ask any questions.
Okay, clearly the mansion is not the only odd thing here.
I slowly walk along the concrete path observing various trees in different shapes and forms that greet me, each scarier or more beautiful, depending on how one might look at them.
The place is freaking massive, and no wonder Eugene never visits it; a sense of loneliness oozes from it. And why would his family need such a mansion anyway, considering he’s an only child?
I finally climb the stairs leading to the massive double oak doors and press on the handle, and surprisingly, it opens with a loud clunk.
My heels click loudly on the marble, and the first thing I notice is the lack of light, but after my vision adjusts, I see lots of furniture covered in white sheets, indicating to me that indeed no one lives here. “Hello? Eugene?” I call his name, but only silence is my answer.
/> I’m ready to go to the kitchen and have a glass of water before searching for my man, when a light from the far corner of the living room catches my attention.
I go to it and notice a door. After entering, I see concrete stairs that remind me of a basement.
Muffled sounds float up the stairs, and something akin to a saw?
Confused, I stupidly follow it too, and with quick steps, I end up in a nightmare.
The minute my eyes land on everything going on, my breath stills inside me and horror settles in every bone of my body.
Because the man I love is a monster, and I just discovered his dungeon.
* * *
Eugene
“Why?” the man croaks through chapped lips, lifting his head to me but then hanging it again. Most likely, he can barely breathe because of all the wounds inflicted on him.
His hands and feet are nailed to the wall, while various cuts drip blood on the floor. His tanned skin is covered in deep purple bruises that will hurt inside so badly he will have to watch his every breath and gasp.
And finally, his blue eyes are almost blank, surrounded by endless areas of red and disfigured skin from the acid I threw at him. His screams were such music to my ears. “I have a son.”
“I’m going to tell you several names. Molly, Miranda, Kelly, and Lila.” He freezes, and then something akin to a whimper echoes in the room. “Ah, I see the names ring a bell. Tell me, Sam.” I come closer, and with each step, his shoulder presses harder against the wall, like trying to meld with it can save him from my wrath.
Naïve fool. “When they asked you why and begged you to stop… what did you say?” He stays silent, so I fist his hair, lifting his head again, even though he can’t see me. Slowly, I say in his face, “What. Did. You. Say?”
“That I’m bored,” he whispers, and I clack my tongue.
“Is that all? What else?”
“Bitches like them deserved a little excitement in their life.”
“Correct. So, do you want to hear my answer now?”
He shakes his head, little tremors starting to vibrate his body, but I make no move toward him.
Truthfully, Sam has behaved better than most of his friends; he didn’t surrender immediately, and he tries to keep his dignity intact. I might have respected that if he was just a regular victim.
But a man who kidnaps and rapes women? He deserves nothing but to die a torturous death. “I asked a question.”
“I’m sorry,” he speaks instead, and I sigh dramatically, finding it hilarious.
“Yeah, I don’t care. I’m bored. And a man like you doesn’t deserve to live,” I inform him right before stabbing a knife in his heart, letting the scream die inside him. He freezes, and then his body slumps a little, as much as the nails allow.
And that’s when I feel the prickling on the back of my neck that I hadn’t registered before, because I was so occupied with Sam.
Without turning around, I say her name loudly, and it bounces off the walls, forever solidifying this moment in our life.
A moment when a beautiful princess finds out she is in love with a horrible beast. “Lila.”
Then I hear the footsteps farther away, and with a curse, I grab a rope and chase after her.
She shouldn’t have come here.
With this, she has forever smeared herself in the dirt of my world, and now she can never escape it.
* * *
Emilio
“Why did you do that?” Sorcha asks me, a little tremor shaking her voice. “If she finds out, she won't be able to live with it.” My woman rushes to the phone, but I latch onto her hand, stilling her movements.
Spinning her around, I pull her flush against my chest even as she tries to fight me. “You sent her to that place where he creates his own kind of death penalties! Let go of me!”
Palming her face, I dig my fingers into her cheeks, and she finally calms down, focusing her attention on me. “Trust me,” I whisper, but she glances to the side, not wanting to face my stare. “It’s the only right way.” A way that my friend doesn’t see.
“Why?” Isn’t that the most important question?
After all, I just betrayed my best friend, but worse… I allowed Lila to find the monster living within him.
They say the road to hell is paved with good intentions, and maybe they are right. But for once, I want to do something for my friend that he is unable to do himself.
Facing the bitter truth of his own reflection. “Because she needs to accept his darkness.”
Sorcha blinks, the tears running down her cheeks only emphasizing her vivid eyes. “And if she doesn’t?”
Then God help us all.
Chapter Nine
Eugene, 7 years old
* * *
Shivering under the harsh light, I wrap my hands around my knees tighter while the water in the sink continues to drip.
Splat. Splat. Splat.
The place has one open bathroom, a sink, a mattress, and a round table with one chair where the man sits, sipping his drink. The heavy metal bars surrounding it remind me of our gates at the mansion where Daddy likes to take us for the summer.
It’s huge and cold. I never like to go there, but Daddy always insists. I think it’s because he has a special place in the basement where no one can go, and Mommy says he creates music there.
The sound of dripping water grates on my ears, and I whimper when the man in the chair a few feet away from me barks, “Stop whining, little shit.” I hide my face on my knees, hoping he won’t see the tears forming from his harsh voice, while I pray for Mommy to wake up soon.
She lies several feet away from me in the corner, covered with a white sheet. The man brought her back a few hours ago after he took her somewhere. I wanted to go with Mommy, but she told me to be brave and stay silent.
I’m not sure what that meant, but I didn’t cry, because Mommy asked me not to.
I hear the sound of scraping and see the man turning his knife back and forth on some kind of stone, while the screechy sound buzzes in the cage. “Someone has to invent a machine for this shit, or my arm will fall off from making them sharp,” he mutters, and then swivels on his chair, facing me.
The single light in this cage—as he previously called it— shows the bad man wearing glasses and a suit, although it has red stains on it.
Maybe he spills tomato juice, just like I do all the time. “I want to go home,” I say, and he laughs, throwing the knife at the opposite wall where it sticks on the round, wooden board.
“Once your daddy dearest pays what he owes me, kid, you can go,” he informs me and gets up while I press my back against the wall, shifting closer to Mommy, who is still asleep.
I frown in confusion at this. For the last two days, she’s held me in her arms and rocked me back and forth whenever the bad man wanted to talk to me. She never let me stay alone with him.
Why doesn’t she wake up? “Mommy,” I whisper, gently rubbing her forehead, but her skin is so cold. “Mommy, are you okay?” She doesn’t even flinch, just lies there without any movement, and the man laughs, as if the happiest thing in the world has happened.
“Ah, you are so naïve.” I see his heavy black boots tapping on the floor when he walks closer and closer to me, and then he hunches next to us, pressing his finger on my mommy’s neck. “You know what that is, kiddo?”
I shake my head, and even though I hate his hands on her, I don’t say anything, because he might help her. “No.”
“This is a pulse point.” He points at my fingers. “Press them to your neck.” I do and feel a slight vibration under it, and he explains further. “That’s your heart beating. Now put them on your mommy’s neck.” I follow the command, but this time I don’t feel anything. I try again and again, and then check mine.
“She doesn’t have one!” I exclaim, and he grins widely.
“Exactly. Mommy is dead, kiddo.”
I blink at him and then at Mommy. Then I place my hands o
n her shoulders, shaking her. “Mommy!” I shout, not believing the evil man who probably lied to me, because he is bad. Mommy said not to listen to him no matter what. “Mommy, wake up. He’s saying you’re dead.” But she stays in the same position while fear spreads inside me, and my tears fall on her face. “Mommy,” I whisper, putting my ear to her heart, but it’s not beating. “Mommy,” I say with a whimper, then cry loudly while hugging her close, because he’s right.
She is dead. Mommy is dead!
“Shut up, kid, or you’ll follow her,” the man shouts, and then he picks up a belt from the floor, bends it in two, and slaps it against his hand, creating a thumping sound. “This should make you more compliant.” He grabs me by my hands while I struggle in his arms, trying to hit him and go back to Mommy. “Little shit,” he mutters and then pulls his arm back and slaps the leather against my back.
I cry out, falling on my knees as he repeats the action. I try to crawl away, but he kicks me in the stomach and pushes me to the side where I roll onto my back. “Now shut your mouth or you will follow her. You wouldn’t want to upset your daddy, would you?” he asks me, and I quiet down, remembering that my daddy is a hero.
He will save me.
Lullabied by those thoughts, I rest my head next to Mommy, hoping to feel her warmth, even though she is so cold.
And that’s how my childhood ended for me, dropping me into the world of darkness and pain.
* * *
New York, New York
1981
* * *
Lila
I run with all my might through the hallway out to the sidewalk again, my heels sounding loudly on the floor—thump, thump, thump—as fear unlike anything before rushes through me and puts all my senses on high alert.
My lungs burn from the lack of oxygen the minute the freezing air hits my face, but I don’t let it stop me.
If he catches me, it will be over.
The cries of the man still ring in my ears, the way Eugene inflicted pain on him with a completely blank expression… and blood, so much blood, everywhere.
