Dark Creations Boxed Set (Books 1-3)
Page 81
Chapter 21
The faceless man hid in the kitchen as Melissa napped on the floor of the living room. He’d heard her struggle before a loud crash had sounded. He had covered his ears, terrified of the noise. When silence had followed, he’d thought it safe to remove his hands. He had peeked around the corner into the living room and had seen the rocking chair overturned, had heard her sobbing. He had covered his ears and curled into a ball once again on the cold, vinyl flooring.
He remained, in a bowed position, for an undefined amount of time, uncertain of many things. All he knew was that the sobbing had ceased and that the house was far brighter.
Long shadows stretched languidly across the dingy dark-yellow walls. Scary shapes emerged from oddly shaped appliances, made it difficult for him to relax, to rest.
He had fretted incessantly throughout the night, fretted still. Things were not going as he’d hoped they would and he was destroying his last chance at friendship.
He tensed briefly in his bent pose then released his hand from its resting place between his knees, retracted it and promptly thumped it against his temple. He silently scolded himself for being such a fool. He drew his fist back farther and punched himself a second time in frustration.
He gradually pushed himself up to a seated position. His head throbbed, his hand ached. He felt sad for himself.
He had not had an easy stretch of time. He had held Melissa captive for an entire night. He knew that friends did not do things like that; they did not hold one another hostage for hours on end. He was uncertain of the details of friendship, of the specifications entailed in such a social contract, but he was sure kidnapping and captivity were not included within them. But he’d had no other option. If he had untied her, she would have fled. Even still, he knew if were were to march into the living room and cut the rope from her wrists and ankles, she would run away from him, run away forever to Gabriel and forget all about him. He did not want to be abandoned or forgotten.
In an effort to prevent such an occurrence, he had attempted several times during the night to make her understand that his intentions were innocent, that he wanted to make her more comfortable and happy. He wanted her to see that she’d been contented by friendship with him, that he was pleasing. But each time he appeared, she would become agitated and upset. The sound of her crying, her tear-riddled pleas for release, were more than he could bear. She hadn’t been cruel like the other horrible people he’d encountered but she was very emotional.
Her emotional state did not appear overly volatile. She did not seem as though she would attack him with a mop, or a rolling pin, or her hands, but she did seem as if she was intent on leaving. She had said repeatedly that she wanted to leave.
Melissa’s desire to leave had hurt him deeply.
His hurt motivated him to try harder, though. Sitting on the vinyl floor patterned with mustard and brown-colored flowers and trailed with alarming, darkened shapes, the faceless man resolved to try again. He had to. She needed to see that he needed her and that he would be the best friend she would ever have, that he would never disappoint her.
The faceless man rose to his feet and straightened his posture as much as his curved torso allowed. He walked to the sink and turned on both faucets. He touched the stream of water that flowed gingerly. Once confident he would not burn his delicate skin, he cupped his hands and filled them with water and began splashing it on his face. He wanted to cleanse himself before his final attempt at convincing her. He pumped soap from the dispenser and scrubbed his entire head before dispensing more to just his forefinger then running it across his small, pointed teeth. Hygiene could only help matters.
When he felt he’d been sufficiently cleaned, he walked slowly into the living room. He saw her on the floor. She rested on her side with the rocking chair tipped over. She saw him as well. Tears welled in her eyes and rolled down her cheeks.
He wondered how she could do such a thing to him, to cry at the sight of him. He felt sympathy for her predicament but at the same time felt entitled to happiness. She was the linchpin to his happiness yet she cried. The entire arrangement presented a conundrum. The only point that was clear to him was that he could not endure more crying. Her tears pained him too greatly. And he did not deserve to be pained.
He began backing out of the room.
“Where are you going?” she asked him between sobs. “Please don’t leave!”
He covered his ears with his hands again.
“You have to let me go. Please! People will be looking for me!”
Her desperate weeping was dreadful. The faceless man began to feel his heart rate accelerate dangerously at the sound of it. His breathing became shallow and his brow dampened with beads of perspiration. In his stomach, it felt as though thousands of butterflies emerged from their chrysalides and beat their wings against its lining. He needed to leave, immediately.
He turned on his heels then on legs that trembled, he ran back to the safety of the kitchen.
Melissa continued to cry; he could still hear her. He didn’t know what to do. He was going to have to untie her sooner or later. Untying her was the only way to earn her trust, and he knew trust was implicit in the terms of friendship. Buy if he untied her and she tried to leave or hurt him, she might be lost forever just as the others before her had been.