Psychopath's Prey

by V. F. Mason

  But there is no solution, is there? He will always be bad, and I won’t ever accept it.

  So ignoring the blinding sun and nausea, I dash outside, running and running, my feet burning from touching the rocks and grass that cut into my bruised flesh.

  The wind blows into my face while tree leaves slap me, and my raspy breath is the only sound that accompanies me.

  My lungs burn from the exercise, my legs getting weaker, but I will myself to go on, remembering my life is at stake and I won’t let a serial killer win. Even if only Preston enters my mind.

  Why doesn’t Kierian come to it too?

  It’s funny how life had no meaning for me through the years, but now I desperately try not to give up.

  Since I’m not watching where I’m running, I don’t see the glass until I step on it. Screams of pain leave me at the exact moment strong hands wrap around my waist from behind, lifting me up. I shout, “No!” and struggle in the hold, kicking the person with all my might, and it takes me a second to register his hands do not feel familiar.

  Before I can dwell on it, he pushes me down on my stomach and covers my back, and orders, “Stay low. Do not move.” The voice is laced with authority and harshness, but I don’t recognize the man. Who is he?

  The minute the thought enters my mind, there is a loud blast, reverberating through the forest as birds fly up high, circling widely, and pieces of wood rain down around us. A surge of energy washes over me, freezing me on the spot for a moment while I think about the source of the blast.

  “What is it?”

  The stranger stands up, and I can finally sit up. I turn around and a gasp of shock slips from my lips.

  Even though I thought I ran far away, in fact it was only a few hundred feet, and I can still see Kierian’s house, or what’s left of it, behind all the smoke that surrounds the destroyed building. Fire creeps along the grass, and flames consume what’s left of the house as acrid black smoke fills the forest with its disgusting smell.

  What the hell happened?

  I cough into my hand and the stranger removes his jacket, throwing it over my shoulders while dialing on his phone. “Nine-one-one? There’s been an emergency…” He proceeds to give the address while I numbly study the wreckage, and only once the shock disappears do the memories of my captivity come back.

  “You need to leave. They are coming after me,” I croak through my dry throat, but the glance he gives me makes uneasiness settle in the pit of my stomach.

  This man could easily be mistaken for the angel of death with his black hair, tanned skin, amber eyes, and the aura of danger surrounding him.

  “They stayed inside, Ella. Kierian saved you.” He pauses, then he mutters, “He knew I’d come after him and save you.”

  I’m smart, Ella. I can predict everything.

  Could he have predicted Preston’s insanity? That’s why he insisted on me running away—he chose love in the end.

  He chose me, but by doing that, he sacrificed himself?

  “No!” I scream, darting to the building, but the man locks his arms around me once again, stilling any movement I might have made. “Kierian.” My whisper is barely audible, but he hears it nevertheless.

  “Dead, Ella. Your nightmare is over.”

  Oh, no.

  My nightmare has just begun.

  How will I be able to live with it?

  Sobbing uncontrollably, I sink to my knees and weep into my hands at everything that could have been and everything that won’t ever be. Love and hatred entwined when it came to Kierian, but to think he is no longer with me?

  It kills everything inside me.

  The sound of sirens echo and the stranger pats me on the back. “The help is here. Good luck, Ella.” With one last glance, he leaves me alone, and I don’t even bother to ask his name, because it doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things.

  In a few minutes, paramedics are at my side, wrapping me in tight blankets while tending to my wounds and asking me millions of questions to which I mostly nod.

  Firefighters do their best to stop the flames while police shake their heads in disbelief but make notes anyway.

  They put me in the ambulance but quickly administer sedatives when I thrash around the minute they want to strap me down.

  In seconds, everything goes blank, and for the first time in my life, I welcome the oblivion with open arms.

  Maybe all the wounds in my soul will stop hurting and bleeding like they do now.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Ella

  Resting my back on the pillow, I gaze through the window of the bare hospital room and completely zone out of conversation at hand.

  Chloe quickly brings me back though. “Ella?”

  I don’t react, because I don’t care about anything else but the things that have happened to me in the span of seventy-two hours.

  Finding out that Kierian stayed in his house to die with Preston broke something inside me, and I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to mend it.

  Why does my love always have to revolve around serial killers?

  A serial killer took my parents away. The serial killer was a man who I considered an uncle. And now the man I fell for and opened myself up to ended up being one too.

  Even Preston, who I considered a friend, as much as you can be a friend in the short amount of time with a coworker, turned out to be insane.

  “Ella.”

  Finally, I snap my attention back at her and nod. “Yes.”

  “Yes, what?” she asks, confused, while Simone gives me a concerned stare.

  “Whatever you want, it’s a yes. Look, I’m just not in the mood for this conversation, okay?”

  Chloe exhales heavily and then sits down next to me, her palm covering mine, and I try to snatch it back, but she holds it firmly. “Ella, Kierian—”

  “Don’t,” I warn, and they share a look, but frankly I don’t care. I wasn't sure I wanted to discuss him with anyone, let alone with my best friends. They would know I lied.

  I couldn't let anyone know what I did.

  Everyone waited for my statement, to put the final nail in the coffin, so to speak, and close the case. I got so many flowers it felt like a floral shop here.

  “Okay.” Chloe doesn't push me, but then when did she? “Your landlord understands your situation and is fine with you prolonging the lease once you are out,” she says cheerfully, as if it’s supposed to lift my mood or something.

  “I’m not going to renew it.”

  She blinks several times and then clears her throat. “We are talking about your dream apartment, Ella. You said you’d never move.” Yeah, I fell in love with my apartment that opened to the best city view and it reminded me every day I had accomplished everything on my own.

  But now this place will remind me of nothing but Kierian. Some of his clothes are still there. I can't imagine continuing to live there anymore.

  “Dreams can change.”

  Simone opens her mouth to say something, when they are interrupted by Noah, who enters the room with a frown on his face.

  “Didn’t know you had visitors. I’ll come another time.” He practically walks on eggshells around me, wary of my reaction or bringing up the case, although I know he has to.

  If I were anyone else, he’d be questioning me and taking my statement the minute I could talk, but because I was under his protection and he failed me, he lets me do it in my own time.

  This has to end, maybe because I won’t have the courage to do it all over again.

  “Please come in, Noah. Girls,” I address them, and they get up, but not before Chloe flashes me a look that says we will continue our conversation later. I just roll my eyes as she kisses me on the cheek, and they leave, the room enveloping in silence that is disturbed only by the traffic sounds coming from the streets.

  Noah shifts from side to side, and I wait for him to ask a question, wondering with whom he’ll start.

  Or if he knows I’ve lied.

&n
bsp; He curses and then sits on the edge of the chair next to me, still keeping his distance though. “I need to ask you.”

  “Go ahead.” I know the protocol.

  He cracks his fingers, and then asks, “Did he rape you?”

  I shake my head, focusing my attention on the bright billboard that faces my window. Sometimes lying in bed and gazing at the ceiling, I wonder if he had then maybe I would have been able to hate him and cross off all the good parts that happened with him. “No.”

  “For how long did he keep you?” My brows furrow, as it’s a bit stressful for me, but then I finally find the words.

  “Around four days. Maybe less.” I see him making notes on his iPad, and then he continues.

  “What did he do to you?”

  “You’ve read the doctor’s report, Noah.” My soft voice seems to snap something in him as he swiftly gets up and paces the floor, going back and forth, his fingers tangled in his hair.

  “I can’t believe I didn’t seen his insanity. I mean, he was just a good guy. Why would he do this?” He exhales heavily. “Although I know perfectly well why he did what he did. But still, it makes no sense that such a good kid like him would do this.” He grips the edge of the bed’s rails so tightly his knuckles turn white. “I should have protected you from him.” He leans forward, defeat marking his every action, but I don’t reassure him.

  Because truth be told, I don’t know what to say to that.

  We are humans too. We are allowed to make mistakes.

  “Noah, he had a plan, and he executed it. Please don’t beat yourself up because of it.”

  A humorless chuckle slips through his lips as he tugs on his hair, holding my stare. “You could have died.”

  “Yet here I am.” My life has to be seen to be believed. Twice, serial killers aimed to kill me.

  Twice, they’ve spared my life.

  How ironic is that?

  “Will you come back to work?” His abrupt change of subject throws me off, and I shift uncomfortably; I didn’t expect this question so soon. “I’ve been in this job for a long time. It’s okay to want an out.”

  Fumbling with my fingers, I pull the blanket higher as suddenly shivers run down my spine. “I think my professors were right. There is no place for me in the FBI.” Or in psychology. I should have never sacrificed my life to catch serial killers. I only proved to everyone who objected that they were right.

  What would my life have been like if I’d stuck with photographic journalism? Would I have been happier? Would I have married Kierian and lived with him without knowing his secret desires?

  “I’ll get the papers drawn up. For better or worse, you’ve managed to destroy one serial killer in this world. It’s an accomplishment, Ella.” He pats my hand gently and clears his throat. “We will all miss Kierian.”

  Adrenaline pours into my veins as my breathing speeds up, sweat drips down my back, and my eyes widen in fear that he’ll notice.

  That he’ll know I lied.

  He thinks only one serial killer died that night.

  No one has any idea who Kierian was, because I kept my mouth shut.

  For them, he died a hero trying to save the woman he loved.

  Let it be my final gift to him for saving my life when he didn’t have to.

  A gift freely given.

  Even if it probably makes me end up in hell one way or the other.

  Richmond, Virginia

  One month later

  Ella

  My feet step soundlessly on the emerald-green grass as the breeze fans my cheeks lightly. I inhale the familiar scent of home, and somehow along the way, the cemetery became my home since my family lies there, and I exhale a heavy breath.

  Walking closer, I pick up the nearby hose and spray water on all the different flowers planted on the gravestones, then remove the dust that has collected from all this time.

  Done with the task, I place a single red rose on each stone then sit down on the small step, resting my back on Mom’s grave, and close my eyes, searching for words I cannot find.

  I thought coming here would ease my pain, but it only becomes stronger. “I’m sorry I haven't been here in a while.” More like years. I usually made sure to visit them once a year on the anniversary of their death, but with each year, with each new accomplishment, it became harder and harder. So at some point five years ago, I gave up altogether. “I’m not even sure why I’m here now,” I murmur into my hands, as I press the heels of my palms on my eyes, but I do know.

  Kierian.

  With the truth and captivity, I should hate him.

  But I can’t, because I fell in love with the man first. All the monstrous things he did haven’t managed to extinguish this love.

  And I hate it, because the pain in my chest stabs me every time his face flashes in front of my eyes. It’s because living without him is unbearable.

  “He’s dead, Mom.” I wipe away the single tear from my cheek and then laugh, although it’s strained. “I got my dream job, only to realize everyone was right all along. It’s not what I want to do.” I fist the soil and then slowly let it go. Taking a deep breath, I spin around, placing my hand on the stone, ignoring the burning sensations from the hot July sun shining brightly on it. “I always felt guilty for being alive, and I had to repay it. So I ventured into criminal minds, but truth be told, I only understand now how stupid it was.” Rubbing the headstone gently, I wish she were here with me so I could share all my deepest secrets with her.

  But life decided differently. “It’s a gift. Me staying alive. Because somehow part of you is still here. And I will use it wisely, Mom.” I kiss the stone soundlessly and get up, only to blink in surprise when I notice a white dove landing on my sister’s stone, so beautiful I long to touch it.

  A bubble of laughter escapes my mouth, and I look up, appreciating this kind gesture letting me know it’s okay to finally let go.

  The peace that settles inside me is unexplainable, as if a heavy weight has been pulled away from my chest. I’m twenty-nine years old, but it feels like I’ve just started living. I’m never going to be completely good with what has happened to me, but I don't have to live in an illusion that I’ll get justice for my family.

  I never will, and that’s probably the hardest truth I’ve had to accept and always ran away from.

  Oddly enough, I have no one else but Kierian to thank for this realization.

  Dusting my hands off, I saunter back home, to the house I haven't visited since that tragic day.

  No one ever sold it, as I still had the rights, but there were no interested people either. I imagined not many wanted to live in a house where a murder was committed.

  With the serial killer’s house a few feet away.

  Stopping in my tracks, I stand in front of the two-level wooden house. The grass is freshly cut and nourished, and it doesn't seem like an abandoned house. I have to thank Miss Kara for that, since she made it her mission to take care of it. God only knows why.

  Each step that takes me to the door feels heavier and heavier as vivid images dance in my mind.

  Sarah’s laughter when I spun her around in the backyard.

  Dad’s scowl when he didn't appreciate our wet-from-the-hose clothes.

  Mom calling us for dinner and winking as she baked a delicious cake. My nose can still smell her cinnamon masterpiece.

  Shaking my head from all this, I insert the key and unlock the door, the echo of my shoes greeting me as I step inside. All the furniture was thrown away since it was all covered in blood and I saw no use for it. I’m about to check the rest of the house, since I’ve planned to stay here for a while, when the hair on my neck prickles and my heart rate speeds up.

  There is barely audible breathing behind me, but my ears catch it nevertheless.

  Slowly, I turn around as the keys fall to the floor with an annoying jingle, and I come face to face with the man.

  He rests his back against the wall, relaxed, as the silver blade shift
s through his fingers. He catches my stare and then shuts the door, forever deciding my fate.

  Death finally came full circle with me.

  It’s ironic how I’ll face my death in the same house that once allowed me to escape it. But then you can’t cheat destiny after all, right?

  “Ella,” he says, still drilling me with his stare. “I told you I always win.”

  Epilogue

  Somewhere in the world…

  Ella

  Inhaling the fresh scent of coffee, I go out on the deck, enjoying the view of a magnificent sunset over the ocean, the orange light reflecting in the misty blue water that calls for you to enter it and never get out.

  The soft breeze touches my skin, giving much-needed cooling as my white summer dress sways around my legs.

  Laughter on the beach snaps my attention and my eyes land on the two-year-old who chases the small husky dog. The puppy jumps from side to side barking, circling around his feet and licking them from time to time. The boy laughs joyfully, clapping his hands, and then lands on his diapered behind as the puppy jumps on him, nuzzling his neck.

  Rex sleeps next to my feet, snoring loudly, and I shake my head at him. He got old and lazy, but still plays with Dean from time to time.

  The familiar twitch in my hands creates uneasiness in me, and I know how to soothe it. I grab my camera from the hook nearby and snap a picture of Dean, capturing this perfect moment in time that will never happen again.

  Focusing my lens on him, I notice how the man leans next to him and helps steady him, and the child grins, raising his arms.

  The man complies easily, placing the child on his shoulders. I’m finally busted, and the man raises his brow.

  “Mama is watching us,” he says to Dean, who waves at me joyfully.

  “Mama!” Pride laces his voice as he tunnels his tiny hands in his father’s hair, and my man doesn't even wince.

  I think at this point he is just used to it. Our baby boy is fascinated with his hair, maybe because they share the same color. Mine never has the same appeal for him.