Alamort

24. Malice

An Unhealthy Obsession - The Black Robinson Synthetic Orchestra

D o I coddle Saint a bit? Probably, but he’ll forgive me. He always does. He has to. We can only exist together. I needed to nick sometime with Priya while I can. The outside in October is parky if someone’s not used to it. Zipping up the black hoodie, I throw on the hood to keep up my anonymity from the cameras. I keep to the tree line to avoid any unwanted eyes from seeing me. The walk to her dorm room is fairly quick. For the past four years, I haven’t been allowed to be around females. It was unanimous with the Demons that it would be in everyone’s best interest for me personally to stay away. When I was ordered to ‘scare’ her, it opened a door I assumed had been nailed shut. But with Priya, she’s a special case.

There is so much I want to know. What makes her tick? How much does she know? Maybe she’s just as misunderstood as I am. That’s why the information Saint is obsessed with finding is right in front of him. But I want to hear it from her pretty mouth. She has secrets, and I crave to unravel them.

Hidden behind the building, the side door provides a discreet entrance for the janitors to enter without having to encounter the spoiled rich kids. Swiping my master key card, I got from the dean’s office. The red light flicks green. Although the lights in the female dorm lobby are dimmed during the night, they’re still bright enough to allow for clear visibility of anyone walking through the halls. To the right are the concrete stairs that go up to the third floor. I won’t take any chances of being seen by some nosey girl who hears the elevator ding. Plus, I don’t think Saint is prepared to be thrown into something he doesn’t quite understand yet. He’d be miffed, for sure. When considering the idea, there is a slight smirk as I contemplate how enjoyable it could be, like a fish out of water.

The time on my phone says it’s a little after 1AM. She should be sleeping peacefully in her bed. The stairs don’t leave me winded, reminding me that the time I spend at the gym is well worth it. Pulling my hood tighter to my face, the stairway door creaks open as I spot the room I’m looking for.

The soft carpet cloaks my footsteps, making it much easier to sneak past her nosy friend’s room. Taking the key card out from my pocket again, the lock turns green. Slowly turning the doorknob, I hold my breath, not wanting to ruin the fun by waking her. When it stays silent, I slink inside. Her friend is none the wiser.

Inhaling the room’s aroma, it smells like her. The fragrance of coconut and wildflowers brings back memories of my childhood in London, playing in the meadows, inhaling their sweet scents. I was quite fond of that smell. Her dark wavy hair lies sprawled across her pillow, while both of her hands are underneath her cheek. She’s wearing what looks to be an oversized white T-shirt for pajamas. The face of a vengeful angel. Even during sleep, her brows furrow, keeping the constant frown she wears. The weight of her heavy lashes casts a shadow from the moonlight on her high cheekbones, concealing her haunted gaze from the world. If I pull her hands down a bit, it would appear she was praying.

Speaking of hands, I grab a zip tie from my coat and ever so slowly slide the black pointed tie behind her wrists. She doesn’t move a muscle. Her soft breathing remains undisturbed. Fishing it through the hole, each groove clicks as it gets tighter. I’m not ready to tighten it all the way yet.

First, I need to obstruct her vision before she knows who I am. Her room is too clean. The way I clean Saint and I’s room. No personal belongings other than her clothes. I’ll be back to inspect it all soon enough. Stalking to her closet, I grab her school tie to use as a blindfold.

Here’s the tricky part. Do I blindfold her first? Risk her waking and getting her hands out of the binding? Or tighten the binds and risk her seeing my face? Decisions.

Staring at my Little Monster, I decide I’m not ready for the fun to end. If she wakes, it’ll be easy to subdue her. The last two items I have are a roll of tape, in case she gets too loud and attempts to call for help and my small blade I take everywhere with me.

Carefully, I put the tie gently around her eyes and double knot it. Not my best work. As I run my fingers through her hair, it feels soft as silk. I want to make a pillow out of it. That’s a thing, silk pillowcases. A whiff of coconut reaches me and I realize it’s her hair products. In the room’s stillness, a shrill hiss pierces the air as I fasten the zip tie, pressing harshly into her skin.

If. No. When, she struggles it’ll cut into her skin and leave beautiful marks showing I was here. We’ll both know what it’s from.

With each intake of breath, her chest rises and falls frantically. I know what comes next, so I slap my hand over her mouth to smother the scream, predictable. Grabbing my blade, I set it against the throbbing pulse in her neck and wait for her to settle.

“‘Hello, my Little Monster.” Her struggle stops. A smile creeps on my face. Fear. “I’m here for a chat. Can you do that? Or do we need a repeat of what happened last time?” A small nod conveyed her fear, the sharp edge of the knife an obvious reminder of her vulnerable position.

“I’m going to remove my hand, and when I do. I want your silence. Understand?” When she nods, I slowly remove my hand. She continues to stay silent as she was asked, despite her shallow breathing. Maybe I could train her.

“Atta girl, love.” At the praise, her body relaxes a fraction. She would claim it’s because she’s no longer being strangled. But I saw how she reacted during our last interaction. Her words can lie, but her body cannot.

Dragging a chair over from the window, each thump of my boots coming closer make her flinch. I lean back and sprawl out to make myself comfortable. I’m not sure how long we will be here. I can’t see the color of my chair, but I hope it’s not pink. Unless it’s the shade of Priya’s face when she gets angry. I would like it then.

“My mates seem to think you can solve an issue we’re having. But I think differently. They’re not seeing the bigger picture. I don’t believe you’re capable of the cruelty they say you are. Not in that way. What do you think?” I say thoughtfully. It’s more politeness that has me asking her opinion, because whatever she says won’t change my mind. She lies still for a few moments, gathering her thoughts.

“What is the issue I can solve?” Her voice is hoarse from sleep. The urge to tell her, to hear her reaction, is hovering in the back of my mind. Revenge, an outlet for their guilt.

“Not important.” I wave my hand at her like she can see. “But what I am interested in is you.” Her breathing picks up again. We will have to work on her dramatics. I’ve only threatened her once.

“W-why me?” She questions.

“You’re broken.” My answer is simple. Saint and I, we love broken things. He likes to fix them, and I like to break them. We’re two peas in a bloody pod.

She shifts uncomfortably. “There are plenty of broken people. Go find them.”

If only it were that easy. She’s too far into the heads of the Demons’ and she doesn’t even know it yet. Poor girl.

“You don’t eat very much.” It’s a statement, not a question. I don’t need her to act coy.

“Oh, so you’re here about my eating habits? That’s why I’m tied up? It all makes sense now.” She snarks, making me grin. I like this Priya.

“I admit, I’m curious.” The room stays silent.

Oh, we’re playing a game?

My knife hovers an inch away from the top of her nightshirt. She’s unable to see what I’m doing, so she stays frozen. I cut a line down the collar at the center. Not enough to leave her exposed, but so she’s aware of my intentions. Her breath hitches when my knife skims her skin, leaving a barely visible, thin red line on her chest.

“If I answer your questions, you’ll leave? You’ll stop?” she hastily utters.

I remove my knife and take a seat on the bed. I want to be near her. Inside her skin. “Yes. That’s the idea of a chat, love. We talk. But I can see you’re not very good at that.”

Huffing out her disagreement, “Most of the ‘chats’”, she makes air quotes in front of her face with her bound hands. “Don’t have the person they are talking to blindfolded and tied up.” She looks so pretty like this. Helpless.

“The eating.” I push.

“Yeah, okay. I don’t eat a lot.” Her words are sharp. I want to understand her.

“Why?”

“I don’t want to get fat.” It sounds rehearsed, something that’s repeatedly been said. The urge to touch her hair again becomes an impulse I don’t feel the need to tame. It’s so bloody soft.

“Why?”

“What are you? 5? Because my mom says it would make me look disgusting and unattractive.”

“When we were playing in the shadows together, I put my hand over your nose and mouth. You went somewhere in your head. Where?” My eyebrow twitches as I glare at her small frame lying still on the bed. I like to think fondly of our time together, but that’s one thing that drives me mad. I rather dislike being ignored and dismissed.

“Hmm, I don’t know, maybe because you were fucking suffocating me!”

Shaking my head, I disagree. “No, you fought me. Or at least tried to.” Remembering her poor attempt has me chuckling.

“But when my hand covered your face, you stopped. Went rigid. Something happened. What was it?” She ignores my question. I stop petting her hair to grab my knife. Slicing the shirt down to where the tops of her breasts peek out.

“I don’t want to answer that.” Cede to her request knowing it will come out eventually.

“Who are you?” She asks.

“That would take away all the fun, Little Monster.” Sucking my teeth at how eager she is to end this. After our last job, I find Priya takes the edge off the bloodlust a bit.

“Why do you keep calling me that?”

“Because I see what lurks beneath all the sadness.” I tilt my head to study her. The shadow of her true self. The dark and twisted wants and revenge that simmer under the surface. My monster likes to ask questions she won’t like the answer to.

“You’re ugly inside. Just like me. The loneliness you hide behind self-isolation in fear of rejection. Your hidden abuse comes out when a sudden movement comes from the corner of your eyes. Anger you use to deflect from your sadness. I see it all. You can hide from the rest of the world, but you can’t hide from me, love.” A lone tear leaks from her eye. I bend down and lick it, savoring the taste of her sadness.

“Save your tears for me.” She’ll need a reason. “Every time I find out, you’re crying. I’ll carve a letter of my name into you.” Patting myself on the back, that sounds comforting. A win-win for both of us. If she cries, eventually she’ll have a permanent mark of me. One she could never rid herself of, no matter how many times she washes herself. By not crying, she’ll save her tears for me. Before anyone knows, she’ll already be mine. It’ll be too late to take her away.

A monster needs an owner.

She sniffles, attempting to hide her tears.

“How did you get in?” She whispers.

“River isn’t the only one who has ways to get in. But I’m here with a warning for you.” She waits.

“It’s going to get harder before it gets easier. Don’t yield to the oncoming obstacles. You’re mine to break Priya Carter. Forgetting that would be a grave mistake on your part. I’m not the forgiving type.” Bending down, I place a kiss at the center of her chest, where the moonlight reveals the slightly raised red mark of my knife on her pale skin. While simultaneously sliding my hand underneath the pillow where her head lies and grab her razor.

“One last thing. Who left you the black envelope?” I whisper into her ear.

My nearness throws her off. “I-I don’t know. I thought it was you.” Interesting. Not admitting or denying it, I place the razor blade into her hands so she can cut herself out, leaving me plenty of time to get back home.