One for Sorrow

by Louise Collins

“What are we doing?” Chad murmured.

  “Making lunch.”

  “No, I meant this,” Chad said, gesturing at them both with the knife. “Pretending this is normal.”

  “I’m not pretending anything. I’m making lunch, and you’re helping me.”

  “But it’s not—not right.”

  “I said I couldn’t get any prawns.”

  “I’m not talking about the fucking paella.”

  “I know,” Romeo smirked. “What would you prefer, me threatening you, torturing you?”

  “No—yes … I don’t know.”

  Romeo raised his eyebrows. “You want me to hurt you?”

  “I said I don’t know,” Chad snapped. “At least if you were, I’d stay hating you, not…” He bit his tongue, shaking his head.

  “Not what? Like me?”

  “I don’t like you. You’re a serial killer, but this—this is just confusing.”

  Romeo grinned to himself. “You don’t hate me.”

  “I should.”

  “You feel guilty because you like my company,” Romeo said, fixing Chad to the spot with his stare. “But you shouldn’t. What you’re feeling is completely normal.”

  “You have no idea how I’m feeling, and it certainly isn’t normal.”

  “Just accept it, and let go. The weeks will go a lot quicker if you do, and before you know it, you’ll be free, and I’ll be gone.”

  “You’re deluded.”

  “So are you.”

  Romeo grabbed something out of a paper bag, tucked it under his armpit, then slid onto the chair opposite Chad. “We need to let the rice cook.”

  Chad eyed him, then quickly looked away. Romeo really was handsome, especially when he smiled.

  “You want me to set the mood, light a candle?”

  “If you want it in your eye, go for it.”

  Romeo leaned back in his chair, seeming pleased by Chad’s reaction. He lifted what he’d been hiding onto the table and smoothed the front page of the newspaper. The Canster Times were counting down until the next victim, four weeks until the killer was due to strike again.

  “I’m a killer, but that doesn’t mean I act cruel and sadistic all the time.”

  “This whole situation is cruel and sadistic.”

  “You’re the one person that is guaranteed not to be my last victim. You’ll walk away at the end of this, but someone else won’t.”

  “Yeah, you.”

  Chad reached over the table to scrunch it up, but Romeo tutted, moving it from his grasp. “It’s to add to the collage.”

  “I hate the Canster Times.”

  “Your fiancé seems to love it.”

  “Ex-fiancé.”

  Romeo widened his eyes and checked behind himself. “I’m no expert on relationships, but I think you need to see, or speak to someone to break things off.”

  “We’d broken up before you took me.”

  “But the ring?”

  Chad glared down at the band of silver on his ring-finger, then gave it a tug.

  “I can’t get it off.”

  Romeo flicked the handle of the knife on the table. “I could help.”

  “No thanks.”

  “It’s a shame, especially with you two planning a family and all…”

  Chad stared at Romeo, then flashed his eyes down at the paper. “He said what?”

  “Yep, page five if you’re interested.”

  He opened the page, letting Chad read the article. At the top there was a picture of Neil, looking sad, staring into the distance. Chad didn’t recognize the scarf, or the jacket he was wearing.

  “This is all bullshit. We never even discussed it, and if we had, it would’ve been a definite no.”

  “Why?”

  “I can’t be a parent. I don’t have a clue which of my mother’s customers was my father, and neither did she. There’s no way I could raise a kid in a loving family. I have no idea what ones like.”

  Romeo pursed his lips. “Yeah, you’re probably right. Having kids is probably more suited to me, the guy with the happy, privileged childhood who also enjoys murdering, and doesn’t feel affection towards anything, I’m a much better candidate for fatherhood.”

  Chad turned away. “Right, okay, Mr. sarcasm. I just—I can’t believe he’d come out with all this, article after article.”

  “You said he’d lost his job. He’s being clever, exploiting from your death, bringing the money in. When you go back to him, he’ll have plenty.”

  “But I’m not dead, and I don’t want to be exploited. I’m not going back to him.”

  Romeo snorted. “I’m sure there will be fireworks when you meet up with him after I’m done. I’d love to see what he has to say for himself. Maybe your showdown will get written as an article, and I’ll get to read about it.”

  “From your prison cell?”

  “I’m not gonna get caught. I’m gonna get away. You’re gonna have an argument with your fiancé—”

  “Ex-fiancé,” Chad said, flicking over the newspaper page. He kept going until he got to the crossword. “I don’t wanna talk about this anymore.”

  “Can you do crosswords? You’re terrible at the quizzes on TV.”

  “I can do them just fine.”

  “If you say so,” Romeo said, getting to his feet.

  “Arrogant serial killer who thinks he’ll get away with murder,” Chad pretended to read. “Five letters, begins with R, ends in O, is also an asshole.”

  “No idea,” Romeo said.

  He got a spoon, took some paella out of the pan, them came towards Chad.

  “Try it.”

  “Why, have you laced it with poison or something?”

  “No…”

  Chad sighed, then opened his lips to accept the spoon. The minute it touched his tongue, his taste buds cheered, and he only just held back a moan. Romeo was watching him seriously, eyes dark and targeted, like a predator on prey.

  “Good?”

  Chad nodded. “Yeah, it’s good.”

  Romeo brushed his thumb against Chad’s lips, and a shot of electricity went through him. The touch was lingering, soft, and Chad’s eyelashes fluttered. He tried to remember the last time Romeo had touched his lips. It had been when he was too weak to feed himself. Romeo had fed him, always ghosting Chad’s lips with his fingers after each mouthful.

  “You had a bit of rice on you,” Romeo whispered.

  “No, I didn’t.”

  Romeo smiled. “No, no, you didn’t.”

  He took his hand away and went back to the frying pan. “Read me a clue, and we’ll see who gets it first.”

  Chad swallowed, then looked down at the crossword, and read the first clue aloud. “Ten letters, pleasing in appearance.”

  Romeo tapped the spoon on the side of the pan. “Got it.”

  “Already?”

  “Yep, I think you’ll get it, too, if you use your head. What’s the first word you think of when you look at me?”

  “Asshole.”

  “Pleasing in appearance,” Romeo reminded.

  “Some assholes are.”

  Romeo laughed again, another laugh that made Chad’s stomach feel funny.

  “It’s not asshole, but try again.”

  “Murderer? Serial killer? Deranged, crazy, heartless.”

  Romeo narrowed his eyes and smiled coyly. “I’m not sure you know how crosswords work. There’s a clue, and a number of letters, neither of which you’ve seemed to grasp.”

  Chad looked down at the table, then flapped his hand, acting as if he’d got it. “Lunatic.”

  Romeo laughed again, and Chad pinched his wrist to distract himself from the flutters in his gut. The sound of Romeo’s laugh shouldn’t have been alluring; it should’ve been like nails on a chalkboard.

  “Come on, Chad,” Romeo said, gesturing to himself, particularly his face. “If you had no idea who I was and I came up to you in a nightclub, what would you think?”

  Chad’s face filled
with heat, and his mind filled with inappropriate thoughts. A big knowing smile brightened Romeo’s face. He laughed, linking eyes with Chad. “After the initial thoughts about being fucked by me faded, what would you have thought of my face? How would you describe me?”

  Hot, handsome, sexy, if Chad didn’t know what was going on inside his head, they would’ve been the words to describe him. He swallowed the uncomfortable lump in his throat, ignored the prickling heat that had traveled from his cheeks to his toes, and whispered, “Attractive.”

  Romeo nodded, then winked. “Thanks very much. You’re not too bad yourself.”

  Chad glared angrily at the newspaper picking another clue. “Here’s one for you. 6 letters, make certain of a failure.”

  “It can’t be sabotaged.”

  “You just gonna list all the words it can’t be, if so, we’re gonna be here a long time.”

  Romeo smirked. “Okay, wise guy … doomed.”

  “Correct, as in, you’re doomed to fail.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Romeo pointed to the chair inside the shower. Chad looked at it, masking the shot of happiness that went through him at such a thought. He’d only sponge washed himself for weeks, and could feel the filth and dirt on his skin, and in his hair. The idea of an actual hot shower, washing his hair, and seeing all the grime flow down the plughole seemed too good to be true.

  “What about the leg?” He asked.

  Romeo wagged his finger. “I thought about that, too.”

  He pulled a garbage bag and some tape from his pocket. Chad frowned, looking between the two items Romeo had produced, then down at his leg.

  “But the hair?”

  “It’ll be like a waxing strip.”

  Chad stared longingly at the shower, then at the hair on his leg.

  “A small bit of pain, for a long piece of pleasure.”

  “Fine.”

  Chad lifted his leg up as much as he could. Romeo crouched on the floor, tugging the bag up Chad’s leg. He bit off a long piece of tape, then wrapped it around Chad’s thigh.

  “There, waterproof.”

  “I hope so, or you’ve just pulled my hair out for nothing.”

  Romeo smiled, then gestured to the shower. “Enjoy, if you need me, yell.”

  “Wait, you’re leaving me on my own?”

  “Unless you want me to watch you shower?”

  “No,” Chad said.”

  “That’s what I thought.”

  Romeo winked, then left the bathroom.

  He was alone in the bathroom.

  The first time he’d stepped in the bathroom weeks before, he’d looked at the window, judging whether he could fit through, looked at the razor, wondering whether he could use it as a weapon against Romeo, but his mind didn’t wander down those routes again. Instead he felt happy. Romeo had left him on his own. He could undress, use the toilet, and the shower without his help, and an odd combo of excitement and relief filled his chest.

  He sat down on the toilet, struggled out of Romeo’s boxers, then tugged his oversized t-shirt over his head. He steadied himself on the sink, hopped closer to the shower, then grasped the chair.

  When the shower’s spray hit him, he winced, leaning to avoid the first downpour of ice. It warmed fast, and he sat upright, sighing to the steam. He could feel the grime and dirt being stripped from his body, and when he started massaging shampoo into his hair, he moaned at the sensation. The hum of pain in his leg became even more distant. His whole body felt refreshed, clean, and he smiled into the spray.

  For the first time in weeks, he was happy, and Romeo had given him that happiness—

  Chad stopped smiling the second the thought crossed his mind. He shouldn’t have been grateful to Romeo. He was keeping Chad prisoner; he was a killer, the man Chad was supposed to find, and arrest. He tried to remember Romeo’s victims’ names but couldn’t.

  Why couldn’t he?

  He could before he’d been taken by Romeo. He knew things about them, knew what they looked like, but as Chad rocked back and forth, he couldn’t remember anything. They were plastered to the living room walls, but he’d blocked them out, blurred the pages into insignificant wallpaper.

  His heart began pounding beneath his chest as he thought back on the past few days.

  He’d helped Romeo in the kitchen breakfast, lunch and dinner. They talked, laughed, filled in the crossword. They watched quiz programs on TV and argued about who got what question right. They lay side by side on the mattress each night in front of the fire, never touching, but together.

  Chad leaned forward in his chair, gasping for air. The steam added to the claustrophobic feeling. He was trapped, and his mind had been taken hostage, too. It had been twisted, reshaped, and he didn’t recognize it. He liked spending time with Romeo. He was touched by him gifting Chad crutches, and grateful he’d allowed him to use the bathroom alone. Romeo had stripped down his walls, crawled inside his head, and was helping Chad rebuild them, with him still inside.

  Chad reached behind himself and turned the dial on the wall. He gritted his teeth as the cold water poured down his back, so cold it felt painful, and his back spasmed. Chad stopped tensing, accepted the pins and needles down his spine, and started shivering.

  He closed his eyes and his whole body went numb. He preferred a numbed mind to a compromised one.

  ****

  “What the hell!”

  Chad hadn’t heard the shower door open, and his eyes felt heavy when he tried to open them. He realized his teeth were no longer chattering, and he wasn’t shivering. He blinked the drops of his lashes, then looked at Romeo. His green eyes blazed with anger, and his nostrils flared. Before Chad could do anything, Romeo had grabbed him under his armpits, and pulled him out of the shower.

  The minute his chest was against Romeo’s, his sluggishness vanished, and he found himself clinging to the heat. He didn’t want to. His clear head told him to shove Romeo back, keep him away, but his arms wrapped around him on their own accord, and he pressed his body into Romeo’s wide chest, taking the warmth from him.

  Romeo didn’t moan about getting his silk shirt wet like Neil would have. He didn’t shun Chad for wanting affection like his mother would have. Romeo wrapped his arms around Chad in return and held him impossibly closer. Chad took his warmth, cushioned himself in Romeo’s chest, and let him take most of his weight.

  “You’ll make yourself sick.”

  He was already sick, a sickness of the mind where he’d become attached to Romeo. Where he’d seen beyond the front-page headline and liked what was underneath.

  “Why does it matter?” Chad mumbled.

  “It matters to me.”

  “Don’t,” Chad gasped. “Don’t say things like that. Don’t act like you care.”

  “But I do.”

  “You’re lying.”

  Romeo’s hand roamed into Chad’s hair, and he gripped the strands, gently pulling Chad’s head away from his chest. They stared at each other, and Chad waited for the wolfish smile he hated, but it didn’t come.

  “I’m not lying. You’re the one person in the world I’ve not had to lie to. That makes you special. Very special to me.”

  His gaze dropped to Chad’s mouth. His lips burned under Romeo’s attention, the hottest part of Chad’s body, but in seconds it had a rival. His cock filled, pressed to Romeo’s thigh, brushing against his sweatpants as he clung to Romeo’s shoulders.

  Romeo tugged Chad’s hair, and his scalp tingled, and a soft noise left his parted lips. Romeo saw it as an invitation, some kind of green light, and he dropped lower, eyes still targeting, as he swooped, pounced, struck, attacked. Chad didn’t know how to describe it, but he caught the predatory glint in Romeo’s eye just before they connected, and turned his head.

  Romeo’s mouth met his cheek, he gave a quick peck, then withdrew with a soft snort from his nose. Romeo’s body that had been all tense and curled forward, suddenly relaxed, and he went back to hugging Chad again.


  Chad could feel his heart pounding away, but Romeo’s heart rate was matching it. They were so close together he could feel both, completely out of time, and disorienting. He was being punched by their hearts, and the sensation made him dizzy, slightly nauseous.

  Romeo’s heart started to slow, and he released Chad’s hair. They stood together in the bathroom, Chad clinging onto Romeo’s shoulders, and Romeo’s with his arms secured around Chad’s back, giving his warmth, taking Chad’s weight, and making him feel ashamed, and comforted at the same time.

  Romeo sighed. “Come on. Let’s get you a towel, and I’ll make you a warm drink.”

  “You tried to kiss me.”

  “I did. And you got aroused again.”

  “I didn’t.”

  “At least I’m honest with myself. Now come on, coffee.”

  Romeo moved Chad towards the sink, and he clutched on before Romeo released him.

  “Oh,” Romeo said, turning around and picking up a pile from the floor. “I came up to give you these.”

  Chad looked at the towel, and clothes, then he frowned. “Wait, these are my clothes.”

  “Yep.”

  The warm feeling Chad despised fizzled in his stomach. He was happy, grateful, relieved, all emotions he shouldn’t have felt. He shouldn’t have felt any positive emotion towards Romeo, but when he touched his shirt, he couldn’t help flashing a smile.

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. I’ll see you downstairs.”

  Chad sat down on the toilet, dropped his head into his hands and sighed. He couldn’t like Romeo; he just couldn’t.

  ****

  “How’s the leg?” Romeo asked.

  “Still injured.”

  “I meant the tape.”

  “Part of my thigh is now soft like a baby’s bottom.”

  Romeo snorted, then gestured to the coffee cup on the table. “It’s cold now. I’ll warm it up.”

  “It’s okay. I don’t mind—”

  “I do. I said I’d get you a hot drink, and I’m gonna. Sit, get comfortable.”

  Chad flashed a look at an article on the wall. Three weeks until the countdown killer struck again. Romeo returned, and sat down on the sofa next to Chad. He looked at the armchair and thought about moving, but he was comfortable, settled.