The Fallen Angel

9 months later:

“You… you love me.” “No, I don’t.” “Yes, you do. Yes, you do! You love me and I love you!” “I don’t love you, you dumb, psycho, bitch!” I stared at him incredulously, tears pricking my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. “I never loved you! You really think someone like me is capable of love?! I could never love, especially not you!” “You’re afraid. My love, don’t be-” “Don’t you, don’t you fucking call me that!” I scoffed, unable to believe this turn of events. “After everything you’ve done to me, after everything I’ve given to you, I finally see you’re nothing but a coward. A man who can’t face himself, so he hurts others!” I scoff again almost laughing this time as I turn to take in this apartment which I realize may be my last time doing so, and that breaks my heart. “Is this the final act of your torture upon me? Kidnap me, beat me, fuck me, make me fall in love with you only to kick me out like this week’s trash?! Is this what you do with every girl? HUH?!” “You know I don’t.” he said coldly, unable to look at me as I looked at him with fire. “Right. I’m special because I’m the one you didn’t kill. Well maybe you should have.” His eyes snapped to me then and I kept my chin as high as I dared. “Get. Out.” “No.” “Get out.” “No!” “River, get the fuck OUT OF MY HOUSE. GET OUT OF MY LIFE, GET OUT OF MY-” he stopped as if realizing how close he got to me, how close his hands had gotten to my throat. “Get out, or I will kill you.” He said one final time, quietly, then turned his back on me and strode through the dark house, away from me. I let the tears fall then, I didn’t hold back the harsh gasp and then the sobs that had been battling to come through. I let myself feel my world crumble around me in the darkness and most of all, I let myself feel the emptiness around me. He wasn’t watching me, he wasn’t with me, he wasn’t-

I passed out after I don’t know how many hours of weeping in that empty apartment. I couldn’t make myself get off those beloved hardwood floors. I kept breathing in the scent of him, crying a bit more each time I did. I refused to let go.

I had to do it. It’s what was best for her, what was right. I’ve never done the right thing in my life, ever. But for her I had to try, even if it broke both of us. I had to do this one good thing for her, because she deserved it. She thinks she fell first, silly girl. I fell for her long before she even dared ask me my name. And for the longest time I was so selfish with her. Of course, I loved keeping her locked up in my basement for the pure fucking thrill of it, but even more so I know I began to fear her ever leaving me. I feared it because I knew I’d let her. “Get out! GET OUT OF MY FUCKING HOUSE! GET OUT OF MY-” My words echoed in my head, in the empty space there now that she was gone. Get out of my heart, my soul. I’d never felt things like this before, never knew I could love or that someone could well and truly love me after seeing all that I was capable of, all that I enjoyed doing. I still didn’t believe she did, not after what I’d done to her. She was in a state, Stockholm syndrome, I think it’s called. That’s it. I let her tire herself out on the floor of our apartment before I called Randall. I explained the situation, told him to come up with some documents to back up her soon to be cover story which I knew she’d play along with, and to come get her immediately. Maybe she was right. Maybe it is me who is the coward. Because even in this final act, I couldn’t bring myself to be the one to get rid of her. To take her… home, and to leave her there, to truly say goodbye. I can’t. “You should’ve just killed me” her venomous words replayed as I hung up the phone. All the monitors were off, and it was doubtful they’d be coming on again in the near future. “You should’ve killed me.” I couldn’t. It was so easy to kill all the other girls, but I just couldn’t with her. I reveled in watching the light drain from the other girls’ eyes, how they’d slowly take that last breath and not even know it was their last. I loved feeling the thrashing of their bodies go limp beneath me and having them fully submitted to me. My playthings. But fuck, with her I couldn’t fathom it. Even in the sickest, darkest corners of my mind I couldn’t raise my hands to take her life. Like there was this block there that just wouldn’t let me. I’d driven her close to death more times than both of us could count this last year. And each time I’d loved bringing her back. Taking care of her for days and weeks after an especially violent episode made my heart beat differently, more warmly. She gave me butterflies. So, no I wouldn’t let her be like the rest of them, those other girls that were nothing but meaningless wastes of time. All those girls that kept me from her. Part of me wishes I never came across her. Then maybe, no definitely, I wouldn’t be feeling all these weird, fucked up feelings. I would be carrying on with my latest victim, enjoying dolling out torture in the most creative forms until I inevitably got bored and ended it. But with her I never got bored. 3 months was the longest I had any of them last. But this past year with her- every day got better, more exciting, more rewarding. I couldn’t wait to wake up and enjoy her. There’s no way I could’ve stopped myself, maybe I could’ve stopped her from falling but, not me. I let out a deep breath, feeling defeated as fuck as I cracked open a beer and attempted to start the process of drowning my feelings. Maybe I can drink enough to forget, I joke within. But I know the truth, there is no forgetting her. And unfortunately, she’ll never forget me, never forget all of the torture I put her through, how I stole her life away for so long, how I beat and raped and abused her body and mind over and over and over again. She’ll never forget me, and for that fact I raise my bottle and down the rest of it before quickly grabbing another. Randall will be here soon and then it’ll all be over. It’ll be done with.

I woke up in my old bed, in my old apartment. I looked around suspiciously, waiting for something to happen. But nothing did happen. After a few minutes of standstill silence, I got up, unwrapping myself from the warm down comforter I hadn’t seen or touched in over a year. The floor felt different than I remembered it did and I found myself immediately aching for the cement flooring I’d come to love in our- his basement. I searched the apartment up and down. Nothing. No him, no cameras, no new locks, no items from my bedroom… his bedroom. Nothing. A part of my heart broke at that realization that I was back like nothing had ever happened. For some reason I knew deep down that he wouldn’t be watching me anymore. I wouldn’t feel him following me ever again, and from this moment on I was to be truly alone. Alone in the sea of people that was New York. I sobbed as I grabbed my knees tight to my chest in the middle of my kitchen floor, a kitchen I hadn’t cooked in for so long since I rarely cooked before anyway, but, it was a kitchen that just drove the knife deeper. It was a mockery. It would never, could never, be the kitchen where I truly felt at home sitting on the countertops teasing him as he prepared fine dinners, a doctorate skill he joked. This kitchen would never live up to the one where I came on practically every surface, bled on every knife, and toyed with him-

I made myself stop. It hurt too much. I sobbed and stared at this kitchen which I now resented, fucking hated for even reminding me of him. Everything in this place reminded me of him and I hated that I was just put right back at where I started. I hated that this place existed and that I knew he existed out there somewhere. Because where he was is where I belonged, anything else was wrong. I hated that I was here. I don’t know what came over me and I don’t remember. I just remember seeing blood and seeing it made me freeze in my tracks. I looked around once more and found my entire apartment ripped to shreds. The kitchen the worst, of course. Cabinets hung from their hinges barely remaining intact and I traced the blood on their sides like a map. My nails, I realized as I glanced down at them, were chipped and bloody with bits of wood crammed under them, but I didn’t feel it. Little smears of blood made their way through the kitchen and then to the living room where each cushion of my couch was ripped wide open and tossed this way and that. Picture frames lay shattered on the ground, glass littering the floors. I then realized my feet indeed had glass in them as I followed my bloody footprints to the hallway bath and saw the mirror broken, punched in it seemed. I was a mess; this place was a mess. Good. I didn’t want to fucking be here. This was a cell unlike any other. I began laughing then. Laughing that this was the turn of events of my life. How one day I went from loving this apartment and this life to despising it, to feeling ill in it. Because that’s how I felt without him in my life, ill. Like there was some major part of me, some body organ, missing from me. And every second I went without him brought me closer to a death that was not by his own hands, which scared the hell out of me. Fuck him. Fuck him! I punched the wall to my right, my already bloody hands leaving marks on the drywall that was now cracked. FUCK HIM! I started screaming then. Screaming and beating my fists into the walls. I screamed and bled and hit until I literally fell to my knees amidst the wake of my destruction, and I sobbed. I sobbed and I sobbed until I had no more tears. Until I had no part of my soul left within me, because if I were made to live without him then I would not live for anything. The cold embrace of numbness wrapped around all of my senses. In one second, I was shaking, unable to breathe and in the next, I was gone.

Knock, knock, knock. Bang, bang, bang. BANG. “Oh gods… River! River are you here! River! Riv- River?” My eyes were open but unseeing just like the rest of me. Alive but unfeeling. “River, Jesus Christ are you alright?!” Words did not exist to me, everything seemed far off, like I was watching it without being a part of it. I slightly felt pressure under my jaw on my neck as I was heaved up into the arms of a man. “Oh fuck” the voice sighed in relief “Don’t worry, I’m gonna fix you up. You’ll be alright.” A lie, I wouldn’t be alright. I would never be alright. Even if he came back… Even if he came back to me, I’d be too afraid of him, of this new level of pain he’d done to me. I turned away from those thoughts and went back under my blanket of unfeeling.

“Kai!” “Yo, Kai! Where you at man?” Randall’s voice pulled me from my heavy state of, well not sleep but something like it. I felt each of his footsteps pounding on the stairs in my agonizing headache and I peeled my eyes open. “Jesus man, this place is a mess.” He was right. I had barely left my office for the past week, and it showed. My usually psychotically organized office was in shambles, as was the rest of me. I hadn’t changed out of my clothes since the day she left, fearful of losing her scent forever and also punishing myself by smelling it every chance I could. I did this, I did this to her, to us, to me. All my fault, all my fault, all my fault. I deserved this. “Well at least it’s not just one of you falling apart.” My head rose at that. “Fuck does that mean?” I coughed through the grogginess in my throat. “She’s a mess, you’re a mess. Both of you have gone to hell. I mean, is it gonna be on me now to make sure you both don’t try to kill yourselves cuz, I can only be in one place at a time.” He was joking or trying to. “Don’t be ridiculous. I can take care of myself.” “Oh because you’re doing so well at it currently. When was the last time you showered?” “Why the fuck are you here?” “I’m here to let you know that she tried to.” “Tried to what.” Randall stared at me as if it should be obvious. “Look man, I understand why you did it. But do you really think this is any good? You living like this, her…” “She’s better off without me.” “Is she?” He looked to the wall of monitors that had been dark ever since she left. “I guess you haven’t been watching then.” Jealousy snaked through me even though I knew I shouldn’t have been. I let her go, that was that. I couldn’t be jealous anymore. But the fact that he spoke like I was missing out on something only he knew due to their new relationship, had jealousy boiling my blood. But I knew if I even checked once, I would lapse and bring her back here, which I knew better than to do. “What is that supposed to mean?” “She tried to kill herself, Kai. On more than one occasion. She barely eats or drinks anything. She’s not living man. She doesn’t want to.” He looked around the room for a few seconds as I processed his words, “It seems neither of you want to.” His eyes were full of accusation now, pining me in place saying you deserve this, you did this. My best friend, my best fucking friend doling it out to me. Good, I’m glad it isn’t coming from just me. I let myself take it. “You may be able to live with your decisions, but she can’t. I can’t be there for her all the time to make sure she doesn’t go off the deep end. And trust me man, it’s not getting better with time. It’s getting worse.” I took every word; I took every bit of fault and guilt and blame for it. Each word like an arrow finding it’s mark in me and I did nothing to stop it. “This is your mess, fix it.” ‘I can’t.” “You can.” “I can’t!” “Can’t or won’t? She needs you! You may think you’re doing what’s best for her but, you’re not. If you don’t do something, then I will.” My eyes slid to his, his chin raised high as if he was prepared for a fight. “And what exactly do you plan to do, huh?” “I’m going to get her help.” I let the weight of those words fall onto me. I’m going to institute her and help her move on, to be the beginning of the end, truly. I slumped back in my chair, all heat in my blood gone. “Then do it. Do what’s best for her, and don’t speak to me of it again.” He waited a minute, as if I might change my mind, but I just stared blankly at the dark monitors, letting myself fall back into my internal pit of despair. “Alright then. I hope… I hope you find your way” he said and then shut the door, sealing me back into a pit of darkness. This is where I belonged.

I don’t know how much time had passed but I could guess a good bit. The windows of my apartment were covered in frost and a new wave of pain went through me as I quickly turned away from them. River had loved when the first frosts of the season came around last year, she said it was the beginning of the most romantic time of the year, holiday season. I was never one for holidays, or romance, until I spent them with her. Suddenly I couldn’t wait to surprise her on Christmas morning and the smile she’d brought to my face during those months was nothing short of the happiest I’d ever been. But that was then, this was now. Now the frost on the window mocked me. I might as well have been in Antarctica for all the warmth that I felt in my apartment now. She’d made the white snows of Manhattan seem inviting, now it seemed as a curse to me. I’d only been up here a few times in the past months. I seemed satisfied enough to torture myself in the basement, unable to bear leaving for long. But every now and then I had to come up to the ground floor, grab some food, some drinks, shower every once in a while. I flicked on the small tv in the kitchen while my coffee brewed in its pot. Coffee with vodka always seemed to be the most effective when numbing my mind and attempting to be productive. I finally managed to clean out the basement last week, and her bedside table the week before that. Today I was going to try, and I mean really try, to look at other victims. I needed something to seriously get my mind off of her. Something to kill, brutally and violently. I needed to drown out my thoughts and have only blood and screams. It wouldn’t be long. No, this one needed to be quick, needed to be just a simple execution, a distraction. Maybe being busy would take my mind off of her, as she was no doubt busy herself these days. I hadn’t heard from Randall since that day he told me he was going to get her help, and all I could assume was that wherever she was, she was better off than…

“This morning on New York 1, the young woman River Lynn is still missing. Police say there are no new leads as to whether this was foul play or not. Her family members have taken to the community begging for help in locating her.” Everything stops. I turn to the tv, sure this isn’t real, that I must be dreaming. But I’m not. There’s her face, or at least kind of her face. The picture they display is from Clear View treatment facility. Her eyes are dark and sunken in, her cheek bones too pointed and her face too shallow. She looks terrible. That is not the girl I remember, not even when I would torture her most brutally, she never looked so, so… empty. I turn it up louder as the reporter continues. “River Lynn, a young woman from southern California who came to New York at the age of 20, has had a history of disappearing before. Her family says that after last year’s 3-month disappearance, they were unsurprised when she went missing again this year. However, they say this time feels different.” The feed changed to a live interview of River’s mother standing on the steps of her home in Greenwich, press lining the front yard and tears running down her wrinkled face. “River has always been an extravagant girl; she loves adventure and thrill seeking. She moves to the beat of her own drum…” she trailed off as her tears caught in her throat. “But I… I am a mother. And as I’m sure all mothers know; I know when my child is alright. I can feel it.” Her sobs broke through again. “And my baby is not alright now. Something is wrong. Please, please help me find my daughter.” The elderly woman lost herself in tears just before the feed cut back to the newsroom. The reporter droned on about numbers to contact and how to donate to the cause but I didn’t hear any of it. Missing. She was missing.

“Name and ID.” “Oh yes, here you are.” “Fill this out.” I sighed my name in the indicated box then handed it back through the glass to the always cranky nurse on the other side. This was my third visit this week and each and every time she acted like she didn’t know me. As if she didn’t know I came nearly every day for the past two weeks. A loud blare of a siren rung through the small reception area before the familiar heavy door, reinforced with metal fencing on both sides, opened at my left. “She’s in the basement.” I sighed as I stepped through and made my way to the elevator that I knew would take me down to the basement level. The smell of this place was not lost on me. No matter how many open windows they had or brightly colored rooms, the entire placed smelled like despair. It fit the bill of an institution for the mentally unfit. The elevator door dinged open, and I was greeted by the friendly face of Lillian, a nurse I’d become familiar with here. She and I made small talk here and there. I bribed her the first day I brought her here to watch after her and be her friend if she allowed. She always flirted with me, which was subtle and cute really considering who I was and what I did to pretty girls like her. She was just the right size too, just under 5 foot and barely 100 pounds, just how I liked them. But I wouldn’t think of that, not when she served another purpose. “Good morning, Mr. Smith.” She cheered, her fingers already reaching for the basement button. “Lillian please, just Randall.” “Of course.” She said without correcting herself, as she always did. Her eyes scanned me up and down, as always, and her breathing became uneasy as the elevator doors shut, locking us in with each other. I knew she daydreamed about me cornering her in this elevator, my large body trapping her beneath me and having my way with her. But she always glanced at the cameras just to remind herself not to try to kiss me. That was the cutest part of all, that she wanted me, had to remind herself where she was to not have a go at me. Such an easy target. “How is she today?” I asked breaking the silence. “The same as yesterday, and the day before.” “She should’ve been getting better by now.” “Perhaps some sunlight would do her goo-” “No.” It was the coldest I’d ever spoken to her but just, no. She needed the darkness of that basement. She needed the shadows; however, she could get them. I’d learned, painfully, that keeping her in the shadows at least kept her docile. In the second day she was here she’d all but destroyed her room, her bed, her drapes, and windows, screaming with a shard of glass dragging up her arm. Screaming that it was too much, too real, too different. The next day when the nurses had parked her on the back porch, she’d wheeled herself off and down into the lake in an attempt to drown herself. The only thing she said when she was finally resuscitated was that the lake was that she wanted to be in the dark. I paid off the nurses to bring her down to the basement every morning before dawn, so that she might not see the light. She’d been quiet ever since.

“Well, have a good day Mr. Smith” Lillian said on a near whisper when the doors finally opened, and I stepped out. I only nodded back to her, trying to be polite yet anxious to get to her. The stale air came over me and it was an effort to not retreat. It felt heavier down here, more oppressive for no discernable reason. I took a few deep breaths in despite the oppressive feeling. I spent every day for the past two weeks trying to make jokes, talk about current events, or her parents even, anything to take her mind out of it. But nothing worked so I figured today was the day, we’d poke the bear and see what happened. Thankfully she was still on suicide watch, so her hands would be tied to the arms of her wheelchair. And there she was, right where she sat every day for the past week and a half. In the darkest corner, in the farthest room, down the farthest hall, as if she was trying to escape into her own pit of despair as much as she could. I knocked lightly on the door, and she ignored me as she always did. “Hey sweety. How you doing today?” I walked to the front of her, seeing that same unseeing look on her face as she stared at nothing. By routine I checked her arms and wrists, seeing her most recent attempt starting to finally turn pink and heal deeply. Her skin was cold as always. A shell of a person if anyone from before could see her now. Fortunately, this part of her was all I ever knew. It didn’t break me as much to see her this way, but those who did… I pitied anyone who knew who she was before, this. “River, are you… are you feeling any better?” I stumbled over the words because I knew the answer, yet I didn’t know what else to say. Pulling up the chair that was left out for me I took a seat next to her and took her hand in mine. It was so lifeless I almost always felt like I was holding that of a statue, or a corpse. “I used to be in pain like you, just like this.” She remained lifeless and I attempted my last-ditch effort. “One day it won’t hurt so much. One day you’ll find something that occupies your mind to keep the thoughts out. It’ll be small at first, maybe it will only take you away for a minute or two. But eventually, you’ll stop thinking of him, and you’ll live your life again.” I didn’t realize I was the one staring unseeing at the floor until her hand shifted in mine and I looked up to find her eyes widening at the sight of me. It was terror and anger I saw there, but not towards me. Emotion, I got some emotion out of her. For how long I didn’t know, but I’d keep pushing as long as I could. “River… It’s… It’s going to all be okay, one day.” I settled on. Her face crinkled ever so slightly as if the words from my mouth were a deceitful lie she could taste, and hated the taste of. “You’ll be okay.” I repeated. Her nostrils flared and she turned back to the wall, but not unseeing. Her hand gripped mine like she was fighting to stay alive. “Take me” was all she said, so quietly I hardly heard it. “What?” I asked leaning closer. “Take me!” she hissed through clenched teeth, her back arching and her shoulders twisting inwards. She’d gotten so so skinny since I picked her up from Kai’s almost a month ago. The induvial bones of her spine poked through nearly breaking the flesh. “You think I don’t know what you are. You killers all have that same look in your eyes. So, take me” each word came quieter than the next. “River, sweety, I don’t know what you mean.” “Take me!” she shrieked turning back to me. Her eyes were a living black hole, pulling everything into them as she came close to my face and gripped my hand even harder. “Take me to whatever basement or warehouse you have…” she began pleading then, her voice breaking as she sounded like she might cry but no tears were in her eyes. “Please… please just get me out of here.” Her lips moved and no words came out as if she were fighting to bring them to the surface. “He… He couldn’t. But you can. Please.” I stared at her, shocked. I’d never told her about how Kai and I came to be… acquaintances and I only had to assume that he’d told her then because how else could she have known about me, who I truly was. But that conviction in her eyes, the desperation, showed me she knew exactly what I was. I’d had targets beg me for death for all kinds of reasons, but this was a first. She must have seen the unease in my eyes because suddenly her eyes turned scared- of me. Her hand gripped me less tight now and she spoke on a voice so soft that it was not her own. “Please don’t hurt me. Let me go and I won’t tell anyone.” My dick hardened in my pants. Fuck, she knew what she was doing. “Please sir, I promise I won’t tell anyone please just let me go!” she begged even more perfectly now. She knew exactly how to play the helpless target, mostly because she was one just over a year ago. I ripped my hand from hers and made myself stand away from her. I couldn’t do this. I promised him I would get her help. I knew exactly how much she meant to him whether in his life or not and Kai- Kai was the only other person in this world I could talk to and have normal conversations with. He made me feel normal. I couldn’t do this to him, he’d never forgive me-

He’d never find out. He asked me, no told me, to never bring her up to him again. He’d all but split on her. I’m sure one day he’d go looking for her, in a few years, and I could come up with some story of how she moved back to California or some bullshit like that. I would make it quick, as an honor to him, and I could get off on it myself. This could…

I looked back to her. All fear gone from her because she’d made her point. She wanted to die. And she would, either by her own doing or by mine since the one she wanted to wouldn’t. She was offering something between us. She’d play the victim one last time in payment for death. She wasn’t my type, not by a long, short. I unfortunately am the type of man to get off on breaking smaller women. I enjoy breaking their tiny little bones with my bare hands and showing them just how fragile they were to someone like me. River is the type of girl I would never go after because she’d put up too much of a fight. But, in some odd way I did care for her. I didn’t enjoy seeing her in all this pain, and since I was the only one who knew about her, I saw her in this pain a lot. Maybe I didn’t have to go about my usual methodology. Unfortunately, I’m sure as desperate as she was, pleading with a serial killer to end her life after her breakup with another Manhattan serial killer, she’d do or play whatever part I told her to. She’d do it willingly or unwillingly but that’s beside the point. I turned and left the room without another word, and I could have sworn she sighed with relief. Relief mixed with hope.

Missing. No, no no no. How could she be missing? I needed to find her. For no rhyme or reason, I needed to locate her, to see where she was and know that she was okay. I didn’t think. Not as I rushed down the stairs forgetting my coffee and vodka all together. Not as I tore open the basement doors and rushed to my office. Not as I turned on the monitors for the first time since she’d left and began working. Not a single thought went through my head as I typed and searched. I didn’t think at all except as to fall into that familiar calm of working on a victim, locating them and then stalking them. I spent hours that bled into days in my office, different than the days recently passed. I worked and I worked until it finally rang on me. No matter how much searching I did here I’d never find her. Because she wasn’t really missing. She was taken. I knew the signs before I wanted to recognize them. And now that I did, all I saw was red. She was taken, my girl. My fucking girl. Was taken by some fucking low life who thought they could have her. No one was going to have her captive. Not even me so whoever this fucking waste of space was, they were going to be meeting a cold and bitter end, that end being the end of my knife. I pushed away from the desk and immediately started up the stairs. Unfortunately, I knew who had done this or at least had an idea. So, as I donned my darkest clothes, full of hidden places to keep my knifes, my pistol, and brass knuckles, a new kind of quiet calm filled my head. A murderous calm that I’d never felt before. Every kill before now felt like an exercise, my heart racing and my mind on a thrilling high. But this was different, this was lethal and cold, no thrill to be found, just vengeance. Each breath was slow and steady, better than it had been in the last few weeks now that I had a purpose to them. I grabbed one extra thing on the way out the door, an extra-large jacket- the one she always loved to wear though her scent of vanilla and bourbon was long gone from it and tucked it under my arm. I didn’t know what would come out of this or if she was even still alive. But as I got into my car and settled in, I delicately placed the jacket in the front seat and made a silent promise to myself, to her.

I would say I was starting to regret my choices, but I wasn’t. This wasn’t entirely what I asked for but seeing as he was doing me the favor and I had little to bargain with, it was what it was. Besides, I didn’t mind the pain. It was better than the crippling numbness that I was enveloped in. I didn’t enjoy the pain as I once had, but I didn’t run from it either. I took it all in. Every bruise, every break and burn. I took it all in and drowned in it because I knew at some point it would end, not just this pain but all of it. At some point I would cease to be here and thus that pain that was incredibly worse than that which I felt right now would be gone too. I could not say how long I’ve been here in this warehouse. All I knew was that my body had fresh marks and scars everywhere. I cried the first night that his new marks covered one of my old, beloved ones from… from him. And he beat me further for it. I welcomed it. Nothing mattered anymore, it would all be over soon. I sat tied to a small metal chair in the middle of the large and empty space. I was simply waiting for it to be done with, waiting for him to have had his fill and be done with me. Kai told me a little bit about Randall and his tastes. He especially made sure to remind me that I was not Randall’s type, though with how much Randall loved to shove his hard dick along my backside, I was sure that wasn’t truly the case, or at least not anymore. But I didn’t care. It wasn’t him, and never would be. And I never would be the perfect victim for Randall. I tried to be, tried to hold up my end of the deal for him. But screaming from pain was so lost to me now. I saw the pity he looked at me with and then I would start screaming again, just so he wouldn’t start to feel bad for me and not do as he promised. I needed to do everything in my power to make him break me enough, use me enough to grow bored of me and eventually be done with me. It’d been hours since he left me in here and I was starting to wonder when he’d be coming back as he hadn’t really left me alone since bringing me here.

The Hudson always made me nauseous. I often came up here to the roof of my warehouse to take a breather after a target. Sometimes to draw it out longer, sometimes only after ending them. But seeing that churning brown water always made nauseous which grounded me enough to go back inside. I didn’t know why I needed to come up here at all this time. I knew what I needed to do. We had a deal and it’d been 2 days since I brought her here. 2 days of beating and torture that kind of got me off but also didn’t. I know she tried but she could never fully wipe that hopelessness in her eyes. And I didn’t like that. I liked my targets to have real terror. River she, well she was just empty. I found it hard to even beat her sometimes, but then she’d slip that mask of fear right back on and make it damn near impossible for me to resist her. I had to end it soon, maybe today even. This was too miserable on both of our parts. Somehow, I’d remained completely on my own for so many years, killing and living all in my own world. Even with Kai as my closest acquaintance and friend, we always kept separate. And here I was completely and totally wrapped up in one of his failed targets. I pulled a carton of cigarettes out of my back pocket still staring at the Hudson. Today it didn’t make me nauseous, only anxious. Perhaps smoking this entire pack would get me so nic-sick that I’d have to return back downstairs and finally be able to finish the job. One bullet, right to the head. No more messing around, no bull shit, just over and done. Yeah, I definitely wouldn’t be getting off on this one, but what else can I do? With my mind made up, I fell onto one of the cement outcroppings and settled into smoke until I couldn’t anymore.

Randall wasn’t far from me. That lying, piece of shit bastard, was not far at all. His place was in Brooklyn, just off the 495 right on the Hudson River. I kept my breathing calm as I could as I got closer and closer. Remembering he had cameras; I parked a few blocks off from his property and made the rest of the way on foot. Each step felt like I was running and running for my life. But it wasn’t my life I was running for, it was hers. Every ten seconds or so I had to remind myself to stay calm, to not let myself be clouded by her until she was safe. Until fucking Randall was dealt with. Every second between now and until he died, she was in danger, and as much as that fact made me want to act erratically, I couldn’t. I had to stay focused and lethal. The warehouse sat on the corner of the block quiet and unlit, as it would appear to anyone outside. Anyone passing by wouldn’t know about the tinted windows, soundproof walls, and many, many, items of torture within. But I did. I made my way around the property, the full stench of the Hudson taking over me. I kept a careful eye on the cameras above and below, dodging them and staying out of his sight. He wouldn’t know I was coming, neither of them would. Some gods above must have been looking out for me because as I pressed my body into the southern wall, I smelled the scent of cigarettes wafting from above. I knew he liked to take breaks in between torture and knew that somewhere inside she was broken and bruised and bleeding. That thought set my blood boiling. I almost rushed to the nearest entrance, to run to her and heal her. I hated thought of her bleeding for anyone else, or even being tortured by anyone other than me. She was mine! Or… or at least she had been. Besides the point. No one would hurt her other than me. After we got out of this, I’d set up my cameras again and make sure she was safe. I’d make sure she was living the life she was supposed to live. I should’ve done that the first time but no time for that now. I rounded the corner to find a ladder leading up to the roof. I slung my bag over my back and reached for rung after rung silently. Once I got to the top of this, there would be no more hesitating. Just a bullet in his fucking head. I wouldn’t torture him or draw it out any longer than necessary. No, I didn’t want him to take another fucking breath in this world. No one would who hurt my girl.

One more cigarette to go, and not soon enough. I was just about ready to head back down as I lit that last and final cigarette, loading bullets into the chamber of my gun. Just about ready to be done with this long ass month when I heard a gun cock from behind me. “I should’ve known better than to make friends with a serial killer.” I took a deep breath before turning to face Kai, looking like the grim fucking reaper, holding a gun aimed at me. His eyes were darkened unlike I’d ever seen before and for good reason, I was afraid. I raised my hands slowly, swallowing the lump in my throat, preparing to explain. “Look man, she asked me-”

I stood there longer than I should have. Long enough to possibly be noticed but I couldn’t move. I just stared at his dead body, stared at the closest thing I’d had to a friend and realized that this is how all things in my life ended. In death. I blew out my breath as I turned to find the girl I had gone mad over, forcing myself to bring up every ounce of self-discipline for when I saw her. It would be hard to apologize to her but even harder to say goodbye again. I couldn’t have her living in this life with me, not when everything, everything, ended in death and darkness. She deserved better and this, this was all my fault. As much as I wanted to see her my steps were slow and heavy, I was not ready to face this pain, but I had to. And it was worse than I thought. As I descended the stairs from the roof into the open warehouse, seeing her there, tied to that chair, her head hanging and blood caking her body, it made me feel so many things at once. But more than anything relief that she was alive, that he hadn’t done it yet. I ran then, ran down the stairs and towards her. She must have been sleeping because she did not stir as my heavy footsteps pounded and echoed off the metal walls. I crossed the room in just a few strides, reaching her somewhat limp form leaning over her knees and stopped.

“River.” I was dreaming. I was sure of it. This was that crazy affect people talked about happening right before people died. They’d hear or see their loved ones as their bodies fight to stay alive just a bit longer, natural survival instincts. But my body knew I didn’t want to live so why… “River, baby.” My eyes flew open at that. Still hanging my head and staring at the ground I saw something I thought I’d never see again. I saw a familiar pair of boots just in front of me. I blinked and blinked once more while pulling on my restraints just to make sure they were still there, or else this would definitely be a dream. But then his black boots were moving, moving to go behind me. I heard the familiar hiss of his knife being drawn and whipping through the air a second before the rope holding my arms behind my back was cut and fell. He came around to the front of me again, this time getting on his knees so as to meet my eyes. “River, can you hear me?” he asked so affectionately and also so worried, something I’d never heard in his voice before. My brows knotted together, my brain straining to put together the puzzle piece in front of me. My head tilted back, and I looked to the ceiling, maybe I was already dead and had missed out on it entirely. Yes, that had to be it. Randall came back down and shot me from behind which is why I’m seeing him now, and why I’m not afraid of him in the slightest. Not even from the heartbreak because I’m dead, I can finally just be with him in my own little heaven or hell or whatever this is. It’s not real. “He’s gone. I killed him. You’re safe now.” He said following my gaze. I smiled then. “Now we can be together.” I said to his ghost. His gaze softened just a bit, but not all the way, not like how I’d want him to in this afterlife. It seemed like he still had more to do before we lived happily ever after in the afterlife. Which was strange but, I went with it. “Let’s just get you home.” “I can’t wait. That whole last month of my life felt like hell. Maybe I died earlier on and I’m finally in heaven now.” I joked, releasing my breath and my tension in my body as he helped me stand. He stared at me for a long moment then, keeping both hands on either side of my shoulders. Something changed in his eyes then. He went from distantly pleasant to shocked and intimate. “This isn’t a dream.” “Of course not, it’s death.” “No, baby. You’re not dead. You’re alive. This is real. You’re not dead.” I laughed at those words that fell from his perfect lips, gods how I missed those lips. Just seeing them brought back every memory, now not painful to relive, of all the places they’d been on me. I reached my hand out to touch his jawline, reveling in the stubble that met my fingertips, then moved to those lips that I wanted so badly to taste again. So, I did. I leaned close enough to taste his breath and like a drug taking its course I immediately captured his mouth with mine. I needed to taste every inch of him, devour his every breath into my own body. I’d gone far too long without this, and it was just as good as I remembered. But he pushed me back. I couldn’t believe it, he pushed me back until his arms fully extended between us. “River” he started, though it looked like he was having trouble speaking. Of course, he was, this is not what my afterlife perception of him should be doing. I reached for him again. “River!” and hot pain lashed across my face. “Tell me after all this time you’re not still such a dumb psycho.” I stared at him, unbelieving what was happening. Did I leave hell only to enter an even worse version? One where now he was in my life but not how I wanted? But then he bent down, sitting on the heels of his feet crouching over me, so similar to how he did back in that cage, in our- in his place. “Come on baby, tell me what do I have to do to prove to you: you’re not dead.” I studied him then; I mean really studied him. His face had changed, it was darker than the last time I saw him, like the shadows lived within him and not just around him. His eyes were less wild than before, more focused. I looked at his hands last, covered in gloves. He saw where my attention had gone, and he pulled them off. I watched, and as the gloves revealed the smooth bronze skin of his beautiful hands, and I saw the indicator. The marker which told me this was real, this was him, he was here. After over a month of everything I was still alive, and he was here right in front of me. My brows knitted together for a different reason now, no longer dazed and confused. Now I looked at him with all the hurt and pain and venom I had. “Real.” I accused him while looking him up and down. He was here, this was real. Something in him allowed him to relax a bit as I saw his shoulders drop an inch. “Yes, baby. Real.” A thousand words crested on the tip of my tongue, accusations all. But none of them made it past my lips. Not as his eyes sparkled the tiniest bit beneath the hood of his jacket. Not as I looked into those eyes I’d missed so much and finally felt whole again. “Take me home.” His gaze dropped to his feet then came back up, more pained than they had been and I saw what was coming. “Take me, home.” “River I-” “Don’t. Don’t you do that. After everything! Take me home. With you. Now.” “Okay” was all he said. He stood up first then reached for me. I went to take his hand, but he lifted me into his arms and did not let me down. I did not mind that one bit. I loved how the moment he pulled me into him, his scent wrapped around me like a warm blanket. His arms and hands felt so secure around my body that I nuzzled in further to his chest and wanted to stay there forever. He was here, I was alive, this was real, and even so, this was my heaven.

She slept the whole car ride back into the city tucked in that jacket I brought for her. And slept even as I carried her up through my private elevator and into my apartment, our home as she called it just minutes before she passed out. I couldn’t deny her anything, I realized when she demanded I take her home and I knew exactly where she meant. I would do anything she asked, make anything happen for her. I only hoped she never asked me to part with her. Just being around her again felt right. It felt like a missing piece of me had clicked right back into place, making me whole again. I hadn’t realized how much I needed that missing piece until she finally pieced together that I wasn’t some hallucination of her afterlife and immediately all she wanted was for me to bring her back to our place. I saw the accusations in her eyes, the hurt I’d caused her. But she’d been so relieved that the past month-long nightmare was over that she only wanted to go home, to our home. She wanted that nightmare to be over and wouldn’t settle for less. Frankly, neither would I. I came with intention of forcing her to live a better life, one she was worthy of without me in it. But then I could see it in her eyes, in the way the clouds left them when she looked at me. I was her life, and she was mine. There would be no one without the other. And it hit me. It didn’t matter what I thought she deserved or what I deserved, because that’s not how the world works. What mattered was that we couldn’t live without each other, whether we deserved it or not, we were stuck together. We’d both almost killed ourselves in the process of learning that. So, I settled on the idea that I did not deserve her, but I had her. The rest we would figure out tomorrow.