by Lotta Smith
“You make it sound like I’m a cold-blooded killer,” he interjected. “On the contrary, I’m just trying to help you become immortal, and I need to carry out the procedure, whether you like it or not.”
“Excuse me?” I narrowed my eyes. “Plucking eyeballs out of me and putting your mother’s dead eyeballs into my eye sockets makes me blind, not immortal.”
“But you don’t wanna die, do you?”
“Of course not.” Not now, at least.
“In that case, making you immortal is the only solution for a win-win situation.” He grinned.
With the big grin still pasted on his face, he stood up. “You’ll thank me later.”
Screaming “Lunatic alert!” was tempting, but I bit my tongue to keep myself from that. Somehow, doing that seemed to just aggravate the situation.
I looked up and met his eyes; there was no joke, prank, or antic. He was seriously serious.
In his eyes was a glittering confidence that I have seen before—the same absolute, downright delirious belief, an obsession somewhat resembled to faith—long story short, he had this 100% certainty that he’s right. I had seen the same striking credence in the eyes of Warren Bernadoff Estevez.
Just like that.
In Warren’s world, he had never been a fraud.
Incriminating evidence was nothing but a conspiracy to screw him, to destroy him. He was innocent in that little world where he was God Almighty in charge of setting up the rules and keeping the order. No one, nothing, even law could knock senses into him.
And it was the first time that I had truly accepted the fact that no one could have saved my ex from himself.
The Eureka moment.
Finally I realized that the fiasco in the U.K. and the consequences had never been my problem. That issue had become mine only because I had made it mine. Now finally, I had come to terms with myself that I had had no feelings toward the ex-husband, much less love, since a long, long time ago. It just took years for me to become aware of my true feelings. My God, bothering to visit Belmarsh was a total waste of time.
How pathetic was that?
Oh my God, I’m an idiot!
I felt like punching myself, and crawling up in the corner and cry. If only my body and hands were free.
Not to mention it was not a good time to indulge myself in a full blown self-pity.
I asked. “So, that’s why you poked the eyes out of other women? To make them immortal?”
“Yes,” he nodded, “I did that to them with good intentions. But look at them, how they turned out to be dead. It was devastatingly disappointing. Still, I’m keeping their eyeballs to remember I had at least tried.”
“Maybe you could have just given it up.”
“No, I couldn’t just give it up!” he snapped. “Don’t you have an imagination? So I tried and tried, just in vain. Each time, my anticipation got higher and higher, I got more and more desperate. Please, please let me make it—wishing, praying to God, spirits, devils and whatever to let me successfully bring my mother back to life, only to fail. But now, I’ve got you. And I know you’ll turn into Mom and love me unconditionally.”
“Oh…” a drop of sweat trickled down my face. “Speaking of unconditional love…” I started, though at this moment, I was running out of topics. “It seems like one of your victims was so in love of this artist named Sam. Whatever had happened to Sam?”
Sue me, I was still trying to buy time.
“Come on, Kelly. Seriously,” he shook his head. “Hasn’t it ever occurred to you that you’re talking to him, Sam the artist?”
He continued. “Are you babbling so to buy extra time? Unfortunately, your strategy won’t work, I’m afraid.” He was chuckling. “Perhaps you’re hoping that your boss will be coming in for your rescue any minute, but then again, he would be wasting time vainly searching for the artist near West Virginia. Brilliant, just brilliant.”
“So tell me, Alan. What’s the reason for making up this Sam character?” I asked, successfully buying extra seconds.
“Well, Sam is the name of the so-called artist, whom my mother had followed to Paris, after abandoning me. So I made up this artist character with the assumed name Sam with some help from articles left by the real Sam, including the old oil painting named Rhapsodie. Even though I had corrected the spelling when I named my little shop after that ugly pink painting, I had this gut instinct that women being attracted to an artist bearing the same name and similar painting style have a great potential to host Mom’s soul.”
Skeptically, I stared at the glass containing several eyeballs.
“You are not convinced,” he followed my gaze and grinned. “Of course, things didn’t work pretty well at first. Still yet, in retrospect, Mom had been helping me throughout all these days. As much as my Sam role had allured candidate women, and brought you to me. That has totally compensated for the malfunction with the first candidate women. One greedy hooker and a rich divorcee, they came from different backgrounds but they had one thing in common, they were desperate to boost their luck and both women complimented my Rhapsody, saying the painting seemed to be working for their happiness. Can you believe the rich divorcee had even traded her very expensive pieces with my crappy paintings? In a nutshell, they were both desperately craving for something they didn’t have, overlooking what they already had. Looking at those women, I realized maybe my mother had tried to abort me for the same reason. So, I had my share of frustration but in a big picture, Sam role and the artwork was a definite success, they had attracted this stupid, sick headcase of a musician.”
“You mean, Yves?” I said.
“Yeah, a stupid whiner.” He spat. “He whined and whined and whined about his past, relationship with his mother and everything! I had female customers who whined and/or bragged about the relationship but he was the worst, most annoying whiner ever. Still, I listened to his whining. It was hard to fake earnestness, but I did so anyway, I knew he was usable. Believe me, he was positively convinced he was the killer who had poked eyeballs out of women, not even doubting that his worsening nightmares had anything to do with me. He kept on whining how he’s not sleeping well, so I kept on feeding with innocent-looking tea, saying it’s a remedy from Patagonia which gives a dramatic help. Of course, it was laced with you know what and he had been just hallucinating, but he didn’t even know where Patagonia is. When he saw all those news feed about Eyeball Snatcher, he was sickly shocked. He did just what I told him to do, like writing the suicide note and taking the medicine I gave him. And the rest is history.”
“He might have been sick, but you’re sicker than him,” I muttered.
“I’ll take it as a compliment,” he shrugged. “Anyway, the encounter with him was necessary for me, I guess, especially after I’d discovered you. I knew that you are the one and only to reincarnate my mother and I had no time to waste on other women. But at the same time, I needed a closure of all those Eyeball Snatcher fiasco to make it easier to acquire you. And guess what? Sam character brought just about everything I needed. Not just he had arranged a convenient closure of my previous experiments, but also he brought you here before I went and get you. Kelly, what do you think this turn of events mean?”
“That you’re obsessive?” Despite the grim situation I tried to appear confident, but my statement sounded more like a question.
“Whatever you say, I’m positive Mom’s been helping me out, giving me assisting hands, favoring with me, for the first time in my existence. Of course, I must return her the favor.”
“By the way, I was expecting to see Karen,” I said. Finally, my desperateness beat my cowardice.
“Karen? Oh, that little bait girl? Good thing I kept the kid alive. There were moments I thought recorded voices were good enough, but now I know I made the right decision considering you asked her if she was pregnant. I wasn’t expecting that question.” He chuckled and pointed to the ceiling. “She’s up there.”
“You mean like, as in the upst
airs?”
“No, I mean like, as in heaven.” That bastard replied mockingly.
“You killed her? How could you do that!?” I shrieked.
He shrugged off my accusation. “I didn’t, she hanged herself on a doorjamb while I was out and picking you up. After making that phone call, she was muttering something about conscience. Anyway, she took me by surprise. I wasn’t expecting it. Then again, once I’ve got you, I need to get rid of her anyway, so she kinda saved me trouble. ”
“Eat dirt and die!” I spat.
“Don’t be so upset. Suppose your soul gets out of the body for my mother’s sake, probably you can meet the girl up there. Wherever that place might be. So Kelly, I believe it’s time to say goodbye.”
Strengthening his grip of the knife, he cracked a sheepish grin.
The edge of the knife blade glistened like morning dew.
I opened my mouth to protest but words failed to come out.
Step by step, he came closer and closer. With the mouth agape, I was watching the blade of the knife like a total moron.
Before this moment, I had my share of life-sucks moments. Still yet, getting myself killed by a lunatic in such a brutal way and having the eyeballs poked out of me was something I had never imagined, much less anticipated.
On top of all, it sucked a big time that I’d let Karen die.
I sighed. I shut my eyes as tightly as possible, determined not to make it easy for him to conduct his sick ritual.
Then, I caught the alarm start blasting.
Chapter 33
So, it was a long journey. But finally, I was almost there.
I have just met the woman of my dreams, and I was about to rebuild my relationship with her.
One more step, just one more step was what I had to take.
Finally, I had her in my possession. With a nice restraint so that she couldn’t get away.
I was one step from the magical moment.
Her eyes were shut tightly but that was not a problem. If necessary, I could always slash open the eyelids.
According to the stupid media, I was an insane, soulless monster. Which was a completely unfounded and false accusation. The fact that I’d been trying to reanimate my mother with so much effort alone proved I have a heart and blood in my body.
I admired the sharp blade of the knife reflecting the candle light.
She sighed, as if all fight had vaporized out of her.
I was ready.
I took a step toward her and then stopped. All of the sudden, I heard an earsplitting noise.
I frowned.
It was the alarm system.
The alarm was not connected to any security company. Its only purpose was to alert me that somebody had broken in. Besides that, security programs didn’t seem to work in my favor. So it was nice to have those people protect my house from potential thieves and burglars, having those people snooping in my burglarized house for damage inspection was just plain unacceptable. In that case, I would have to kill them all in order to shut them up but it would not be an easy task. Especially, when the security company starts wondering about the whereabouts of their missing employees.
Getting rid of occasional thieves was much easier; they usually come in alone. They are easy to catch, not to mention playing with them is fun.
The purpose of my DIY home security was more like keeping my captives from getting away than keeping occasional petit thieves from coming in.
The alarm kept on beeping.
Considering the little bait girl had died on me, it seemed like I was having an intruder. How could I have an intruder at such an inconvenient moment? I wondered.
I looked at Kelly who was soon to become just a case to host my mother’s eyeballs. Neither Kelly nor eyeballs was getting away from me.
“Better to go look and see,” I said to her, and to myself. “Relax. Perhaps, it’s nothing.” I added. She was tense.
Closing the basement door behind my back, I hurried up the stairs leading to the ground floor, hoping it was just a little malfunction of some devices. Or was it the nerve messing my head? I had no intention of the nerve or a ghost stand in my way.
I opened the door to the first floor corridor. As I walked the corridor, all the hairs on the back of my neck stood up. Obliterated by walls standing in an L-shape, I couldn’t see the entrance from where I stood. But I wasn’t alone. I knew it.
“Hello there.”
Around the corner stood my nightmare.
And he was real.
The skirt wearing creep whom my Kelly called her boss stood there. Except he was wearing a pair of black cargo pants, a black windbreaker, and a pair of black work boots instead of women’s clothes this time. Still, it was him unmistakably. With the long auburn hair in a low ponytail, the former feds turned P.I. stood in my way.
I didn’t like it.
“What do you think you’re doing? Breaking and entering?” I demanded. “I think I have to call the police.”
“Go ahead,” he shrugged. “That’s exactly what I was planning; calling the police to get you red-handed, with the weapon, eyeballs taken from victims and everything.”
“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”
“Hey, let’s get right to the point and get it over with. I’m politely asking you to return someone who doesn’t belong here.” He looked straight into my eyes.
Chapter 34
Eyes tightly shut, I was choking with the nerve. Under the current situation I was about to say goodbye to my dear eyeballs and consequently, my dear life as a human being. It looked like the worst case scenario was inevitable.
Here’s the problem: I wasn’t ready for that. For crissake!
In the darkness behind the closed eyelids, I listened to my heartbeat which was booming like a bunch of meth-crazed baboons having a rave. I was positive there was the sound of Alan taking steps toward me, only muffled by the beat of partying apes in my heart.
I also heard something beeping but I didn’t dare to open my eyes. I was afraid it was only my brain beeping an emergency alarm just out of seer panic and desperation.
I spent split seconds that felt like an eternity in the deafening sounds of jumping baboons, blazing alarms, and the imaginary ticking of a time bomb ready to blow up. Then I heard these magical six words from my capturer: Better to go look and see.
Then I heard the sound of the killer walking away from me. The basement door opened, and closed. Then came a silence.
Yes. A sweet, sweet silence.
I opened my eyes. I was alone in this room. Yay-yeah!
I felt like starting happy dance except my body was tightly secured to the heavy wrought iron chair. Considering I was being held merely six feet from that door, being unable to run away was very unpleasant.
I took a glance at the knife on the table. If I could somehow reach the knife, I might be able to cut me loose. I thought about swinging the heavy chair and banging it to the table to move the knife, but thought better of it. In case this chair swinging went wrong, I might end up having a great fall, banging my head on the hard concrete floor, and cracking my head like Humpty Dumpty. Albeit busting my head sounded somewhat lovely, on the account it would have helped me out of the misery of getting my eyeballs poked out, I liked to keep my brain inside of my skull. Basically, it was the same logic as the one about keeping my gourmet sauce where it belongs.
After the initial endorphin surge, the grim reality started to resurface. I sighed. So my eyeballs may be out of reach from his menacing hands right now, but that didn’t mean I’d be safe for good. So whatever caused the beeping might turn out just a delivery guy, a malfunctioning alarm, and it might not take much time until Eyeball Snatcher slash Alan slash Sam to return.
So anyway, my life expectancy is pretty much limited…
As a disappointment kicked in, I felt lethargic.
Special moments of my entire life flashed before my eyes like some kind of a sitcom rerun. Regrets I’ve had a f
ew…perhaps much more than a few. Undoubtedly, my regrets count was not too few to mention, so I started counting my unblessings chronologically before I said adios muchachos to this cruel world:
My biological father had run away with a Vegas stripper;
My favorite faux-dad who had almost adopted me as his step-daughter was killed in a plane crash just before initiating the adoption process;
When I was nine years old, I tried to take a close look at the carps, fell into the pond, and drowned myself;
When I was fifteen I was hospitalized with a bad case of pneumonia, and instead of losing lots of weight like a very sick girl, I gained an extra 16lbs;
My first ever boyfriend had decided after all, he was meant to be a gay’s gay;
I failed my college entrance exams;
My first husband turned out to be a pathological liar and a fraud;
I hadn’t had a chance to have a child;
I was called Vicious Bitch;
Everybody in the UK still hated me;
My current employer thought I was an idiot (and perhaps, he was right);
I failed to save Karen…
So, I could have lived with most of those unblessings if only Karen hadn’t died at such a tender age of eight.
If it was not for the restraint, I would have banged my head until my head had exploded like a rotten grapefruit. I recalled the miraculous joy and faith-like excitement when Karen called me. Just a while ago, she was alive and all I wanted to do was to meet her and tell her how much we were all worried sick about her.
Now look what had happened.
Karen was dead, and I was about to join her in the world of death.
I was a complete failure. This time, I was positively flabbergasted by my idiocy. I should have immediately called Archangel, purge what little information I had and assisted him with taking down Alan.
Archangel would be so pissed… I thought.
Then I imagined what would happen when Alan came back. Without doubt, he would pluck my eyeballs out and end up killing me. Then what? Would he dump my body somewhere? Probably, my body would be discovered by somebody and then follows the procedure: police officers, forensics team, and autopsy by the coroner perhaps. I found myself wondering if Archangel would attend my autopsy and seriously wished I could vanish like smoke.
