“Why?”
“Lock all your doors,” he urged. “I’ll be right there.”
“What’s going on, Zander?” I asked anxiously. The feeling of terror began to overwhelm me. “Answer me!”
“There were a number of witnesses that said they saw a red convertible leaving the scene right before the fire started,” he explained. “I saw a red convertible in Ty’s driveway. Didn’t I?”
“A red convertible?”
My head turned toward the window that opened up to Ty’s driveway. Just then, I heard the familiar revving of his engine and saw the uniquely shaped set of headlights bob onto the driveway, and then shut off.
“He’s home.”
“Kenzi, lock the doors,” he said sternly over the phone, which was already halfway down my face.
My mouth fell open, and my heart began to beat frantically.
What is Zander trying to tell me? Ty set the fire? But why?
I looked down at the phone and then back out the window. An eerie darkness began to loom over me. A chill ran up my spine, and my mother’s nightmarish wails flooded my brain with terror. I ran to the door and locked it, praying Zander would be back any minute. I looked back out the window, noticing Ty hadn’t turned any lights on.
Where did he go?
My head whipped away from eyeing the windows in the living room when an ominous creak from the back door shot through my ears. My body trembled, and my mouth ran dry.
“Zander?” I yelled out, hoping beyond hope it was him. “Hello?” I called out again.
Unfortunately, there was no answer. I ran to the kitchen to pick up a pair of long metal scissors I had left on the countertop earlier that day. My mind went wild trying to rationalize what was happening.
Could Ty really be a serial killer? And now an arsonist?
Some things made sense to me. Like the fact he never brought home the same woman twice. Could he have killed them after having sex with them? The theory could also explain why he brought home undesirable women. They were there to fulfill his murderous fetishes, just like cattle and nothing more, so why would he care if they were attractive or not? It all made sense.
Was he here to get back at me for humiliating him earlier? That must be why he set the fire―to get Zander out so he could come in. The questions and potential plots ran through my mind as I wiped the tears which had begun to stream down my face.
Slowly, I made my way through the foyer and down the hall, gripping the scissors tightly in my fist. Flipping the light switch on, I made my way to the back door, all the while trying to remember some moves from a self-defense class I had taken a few years back. Unfortunately, I never really paid attention since I worried more about my hair getting messed up, rather than saving myself in the off chance I was assaulted.
Fuck me. I was so fuckin’ stupid back then.
As I reached the back door, it was set slightly ajar, definitely not the way I would have left it if I ever had the occasion to open it. I knew someone was here, probably stalking me right now.
Reaching out for the door, I pushed it closed, creating a sound that amplified my ever-growing fear. The sound reverberated throughout the empty rooms of the aging mansion. I turned the lock just as a wisp of air grazed gently by my neck. I spun around to see what had created the breeze.
Kenzi, watch out, my mother’s voice swirled around me.
Gripping the scissors tightly, I held it up next to my right ear, ready to stab anything that jumped out.
“I know you’re here!” I yelled, trying to steady my fear-soaked voice.
Again, there was no response as I headed back through the tight hallway toward the foyer, each floorboard slightly bending and creaking under my light frame. They were aging right alongside me, and they let me know it. I reached for the light switch and flipped it on; the room was empty.
Then I saw it, the slight wave of the curtain next to the bay window by the front door. The knots in my stomach grew tighter as I inched toward the curtain to investigate. Holding the scissors above my head, I was ready to stab the phantom if it lunged out at me.
Please God, be my imagination.
Slowly, I reached out to pull back the curtain to investigate.
“Meow,” screeched a stray cat.
Shocked, my heart sunk into my stomach as I watched the scruffy cat scurry off.
It must have come in through the back door when it was left open. After realizing a monster was not hiding behind my curtain, a sigh of relief exited my lips, but the relief was short-lived when an echo of creaking floorboards made its way down the staircase and danced around my ears. The fear pooled in the back of my throat and in my already nerve-racked heart as I directed my gaze toward the ceiling, trying to ascertain where the sound was coming from.
Hurry the fuck up, Zander.
Another creak found its way downstairs, seemingly coming from the floorboards of the hallway upstairs, but that was only my best guess. The house was too big and the echoes too arbitrary to really make sense of them. It could be coming from anywhere upstairs.
I glanced over to the door and the thought occurred to me, what if I just walked out and left the evil lurking in my house behind? I moved toward the door, my chest tightening as I reached out and wrapped my fingers around the smooth knob.
Taking a deep breath, I gripped the knob tightly and began to twist it open. The lock clicked open, sending shivers up my arm. My fingers spread open, releasing the knob, and my chance at escape. Who was I kidding? It’s just as scary out there as it was in here. It seemed to me the world was on a mission to kill me, no matter where I tried to hide.
Each agonizing step I took toward the long curved staircase brought back feelings of despair and loneliness I thought I had gotten full control of by now. I wondered if this is how my mom and dad felt when they realized they weren’t going to make it out of the park alive.
Certainly, the anticipation of death was worse than death itself, a fact I could certainly attest to at that point. I wanted to hunker down in the corner and wait for death, with my face buried in my crossed arms.
Fuck that!
What was I saying? How could I give up? No. I would not go quietly, making it easy for this bastard. He would have to work to take my life. I took a deep breath and made my way to the wall at the bottom of the staircase, reaching my finger out to switch on the chandelier light.
Whatever the prowler had planned for me, I wanted to be able to see it coming. It may have been morbid, but I wanted to look straight into the face of my killer. He was going to remember me, whether he liked it or not.
“Why are you doing this?” I yelled up the stairs, hoping I would receive an answer, but again there was no reply.
About fifteen steps up, a taunting ghostly laugh filled the house, making every hair on the back of my neck stand on end. It was one of those moments in life where one wished they could teleport themselves to another time and place, or even just rewind the day with the knowledge that getting out of bed was probably a bad idea.
Psychopaths weren’t just on television, they were real people, with real houses, with real neighbors, like me. And here I was like an ill-prepared idiot, squeezing hard on a pair of inadequate scissors, standing alone on a staircase, tracking down what could, at worst, be a murderous serial killer and arsonist. Or, at best, a random burglar who happened to pick the house of a scared little rich girl with no real defense except a loud scream. Either way, something or someone was loose in my house taunting me to pursue.
“Kenzi,” a voice wafted down the staircase, beckoning me forward.
It was like every tragic horror movie I had ever seen. Essentially, I was the recklessly impetuous air-headed lass heading toward the petrifying noise that echoed from a shadowy room. The crowd on the other side of the screen warned me to turn tail and run the other way. But do the girls in the movies heed the warnings? No. So, do I also ignore the warnings? Yes. The thoughts whirled around in my head, distracting me, and making
it hard to focus on the task at hand.
Why does this have to happen now that I’m alone and it’s starting to get dark out? Why couldn’t it have happened while Zander was here? Where is he, anyway? How long can it really take to drive from that damn store?
“Shut up!” I said loudly to the questions rolling around in my head.
Trudging forward and upward toward my imminent demise, the feeling I was not alone was becoming rather apparent. I could almost feel a warm breath flowing down my neck and smell the distinct aroma of cologne mixed with a perfume I had never smelled before.
“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” I taunted the ghostly apparition that seemed to be harassing me as I made my way up the stairs.
“Kenzi,” the soft voice slowly made its way into my ears again, frightening me to the core, but I would not let it have the satisfaction of seeing my fear.
I took the final steps which led me directly into the upstairs hallway, dotted with doors on either side. Each led to a room I rarely used; only ever frequenting the library and my bedroom, equipped with its own bathroom. The first room to my left was a bathroom, and the door was slightly ajar. I kicked my foot out and tapped it the rest of the way open. With my free hand, I felt for the light switch trying to remember where it was positioned, since it had been a while since I had been in this bathroom at night.
Finally, feeling the small plastic switch jutting out from the wall, I flipped it up. The light flickered for a moment, then switched on. I was sort of surprised that the bulb had not burned out after so many years. Jumping into the bathroom with my arm raised into the air, I clutched the scissors for dear life, ready to stab anything that moved. But I only found silence and myself standing in the mirror looking like a crazed mental hospital escapee. My gaze shifted toward the closed black velvet shower curtain.
Fuck! Are you kidding me?
I reached out and yanked it open. The fear in my stomach rose and fell as my eyes panned the empty tub. I breathed a short sigh of relief before I realized I still had the rest of the upstairs to check.
Peering out into the hallway, I looked both ways like I was crossing the street, trying to make sure no one was going to ambush me as I proceeded to the next room. The hallway was empty, so I made my way to the next door, which was located adjacent to the bathroom.
This wasn’t going to be as sweet and slow as my investigation of the bathroom. I took in a deep breath of courage and whipped across the hall, kicking the bedroom door open. The old wood was no match for my fear-ridden adrenaline and flung open without much force. Slowly entering the room, I flipped on the lights to investigate the floor, behind the curtains, and inevitably the eerily bare closets. No one was there.
Letting out a huge sigh of relief, I dropped my arms next to my hips and hung my head. Letting my guard down, I turned toward the door, coming to the conclusion I was just hearing things, and all the dramatic investigation was all for nothing. I would finish checking the other rooms without the dramatic kung-fu moves.
As I made it past the bed, I felt a tug at my ankles, and before I could look down to see what was happening, I quickly found my face on the red Persian rug my mother had purchased on a summer trip to Dubai. The quick motion was jarring, and I almost forgot where I was, or what I was doing.
The shadow must have been hiding under the bed. Panic filled my brain as I groped for the pair of scissors that had fallen out of my hand when I fell. Feeling the cold metal make contact with my fingers, I grasped onto it as I pushed myself up. Something heavy fell on my back, causing me to fall back toward the floor.
Thud!
The air was knocked out of me, and this time it wasn’t as easy to pick myself up. When I realized it was the shadowy figure’s body keeping from getting up, I flung my head back, making contact with bone. Instantly I had a headache emanating from the back of my head. The assailant grunted and fell off my back, giving me the chance to kick my legs out from underneath. The grip that had clung onto me so tightly loosened, and I was quick to take full advantage.
I picked up the scissors, pushed myself up off of the floor, and ran to my bedroom to hide in the closet. There was no way I was any match for the brute strength I felt in my parents’ room, so I wouldn’t even try. There was a slight commotion coming from outside the room as I waited for the shadowy figure to find me hunkered down in the corner of the closet. After a few moments, the commotion dissipated and silence fell over the house, but I was too scared to leave the perceived safety of the closet.
I waited for what seemed like hours, trembling in fear as I gripped the scissors for dear life. My heart pounded wildly inside my chest, and I was sure the assailant would be able to hear it, even from down the hall.
***
Zander
I sped all the way to her house, knowing in my gut she was in trouble and I needed to save her, but damned if I hit traffic and every red light possible on the way. As I rounded the corner and turned onto her eerily quiet street, a rush of adrenaline surged through my body. My foot slammed on the gas, flooring it all the way to her driveway. The front door was open, but she wasn’t standing there. Kenzi would never leave the door open like that; she was too scared of the world. I reached under my seat to grab my semi-automatic Smith & Wesson Bodyguard .380 I kept for emergencies. I’d never had to use it, but there was always a first time for everything.
“If this muthafucker is in there, I swear I’m gonna blow his head off,” I said under my breath as I took off the safety and checked it had a full magazine.
Slowly, I got out of my truck and surveyed the scene. It was quiet, too quiet. In my peripheral vision I caught a glimpse of red, and as I turned to face it, I realized it was Ty’s car. A red fucking convertible.
“The son of a bitch!” I said through gritted teeth as I sprinted into Kenzi’s house, hoping against all odds I would find her alive and well.
I ran through the door and straight into the living room. Slowly and methodically, I cleared the room, then moved into the kitchen.
Nothing.
I walked back through the living room and kicked the front door closed. If anybody walked in unannounced, they were going to get a bullet through their head. I made easy work of clearing the stairs and most of the rooms, but one of them had clear signs of a struggle, the carpet was askew and a lamp was lying on the floor, but at this point the room was empty.
Whoever was in there was long gone, and I hoped they left alone. I made my way to Kenzi’s room after checking all the others. In the moonlight, I could see a picture frame next to her bed. As I moved toward it, I could make out her slender figure in a ballerina pose.
A ballerina—explains her tiny frame, I guess.
I picked it up and studied it for a moment, noting the gracefulness she exuded, and the confidence that had long since been lost to fear. I heard a light gasp come from the closet to my left, and a sense of relief came over me, knowing that it was probably her hiding. I laid the picture down and slowly turned toward the closet.
***
Kenzi
My stomach churned as I watched the shadow of death enter my room. The darkness wafted across the room, toward my nightstand, as silently and as gracefully as the grim reaper himself.
Shit, he found me.
My only comforting thought was I would get to finally see my mother and father in a few moments, and I would finally get to shed the paralyzing fear I lived with on a daily basis. Come to think of it, death might be a welcome relief. Maybe I should just step out and make things easier for this monster, I rationalized.
I watched the imposing figure brandish what looked like the silhouette of a gun and saunter toward the closet. I buried my face in my hands as the closet doors flung open. I waited for the sound of a hammer being cocked, for the snap of a bullet firing, or for the feeling of a sharp pierce through my skull.
Would I even feel it, or would I be dead on contact? I wondered as I quivered in fear. I felt the rough skin of a palm touch my a
rm, but before it could grab me, I lunged with all my might toward its owner, ready to jam the scissors into any soft flesh. My wrist, however, was opposed by a large hand which grabbed them tightly and used the leverage to spin me around. I struggled to get away, but my efforts were made difficult since my arms were crossed and I was being restrained in a tight bear hug.
“Kenzi, it’s me! It’s me!” Zander’s comforting voice echoed.
I stopped struggling. “Zander?”
He let go. “Yes, what happened? What are you doing in the closet?” he asked as he walked over to the light switch and flipped it on.
My eyes struggled to refocus after being in the dark for so long. Zander was holding a gun at his side as he walked back toward me. The sight scared me, and for a brief second, I wondered if he were the intruder I struggled with in my parents’ bedroom.
I held my hands up in front of my face, still gripping the scissors, and backed away from him. “Someone was here,” I said still shaking. “I don’t—someone—I don’t know who was here.”
Zander grabbed my hand and slowly pried the scissors away from me, then dropped them to the floor.
He wrapped his arms around me. “I knew it. I knew that was his car. That muthafucker was just trying to get me out of the house so he could get to you, sweet girl.”
I could feel the cold metal of the gun touching my shoulder blade. It made me uncomfortable.
“Do you really think it was Ty? I didn’t see a face.”
“Who the fuck else would it be but that fuckin’ creeper?”
“I was so scared. I almost left. Almost.”
“The door was open when I drove up. I was so worried he had taken you,” he explained as he unwrapped his arms and laid the gun on the nightstand next to the picture frame.
“Do you really think he would do that?” I asked.
“I think that crazy bastard is capable of anything.”
“Why do you think he didn’t finish me off?” I asked, too scared to even open my eyes.
“I dunno, maybe I scared him away. He’s a coward,” Zander tried to offer a plausible explanation. “We need to call the police.”
Enemy Inside (Captive #1) Page 6
