The Butterfly Killer

Chapter 19

19

Roman didn’t so much as flinch when Marcus yanked the curtain open. He was bent over his desk with tweezers in his hand while the other held a thin stick. A dragonfly was impaled on the stick, its delicate wings glistening in the light coming from the low lamp just above Roman’s head.

He used the tweezers to adjust the dragonfly’s wings. He moved them so they were equally spaced to his satisfaction. When he seemed happy with how they were, he lowered the tweezers and moved the magnifying glass away from his face. Only then did he acknowledge Marcus.

“Close the curtain if you’re going to watch. I don’t want dust or a draft to get in.”

Marcus quickly stepped in and closed the curtain. His face flushed as he felt chastised like a student.

With the curtain closed, the small space felt even smaller. Inescapable even though he could have stayed on the other side. It didn’t feel like an option though.

Roman stabbed the stick with the dragonfly on the end into a green block that looked like styrofoam. It was the type of stuff they used in flower arrangements but he didn’t know what it was called.

There were other bugs impaled on similar sticks. Beetles, wasps, and even a caterpillar. The bizarre scene seemed unreal and more like a snapshot from a horror movie. Only a little grossed out, he was more fascinated by what Roman was going to do with them.

He must have been staring for longer than he realized because Roman cleared his throat as if he’d been trying to get Marcus’s attention for awhile.

“Sorry,” Marcus mumbled before he could stop himself. He cursed himself for acting like such a pushover. He shouldn’t be apologizing for anything.

Roman didn’t say anything. Instead, he nodded toward a stool under the desk.

Marcus thought about leaving. Did he really care about what Roman was doing with all these insects and the other dead animals along the walls? Truthfully, his curiosity was winning out against any logic he still had.

He grabbed the stool and pulled it out. It scratched on the wood. He winced at the horrible sound. As if things couldn’t have been more awkward…

He sat in the stool and avoided Roman’s eyes. That wasn’t hard at all because Roman wasn’t even looking at him. He seemed to become invisible as the man went back to focusing on his work.

He wore skin-tight latex gloves and his hair was clipped back with two metal clips. He left the bugs and moved to a glass box. He pulled it down from the shelf to his right and sat it on the table in front of him.

It seemed he was preparing to put the bugs in the case.

The job was pretty straightforward. He cleaned the wooden shadow box, lint rolling it to make sure there were no dust particles. Marcus understood now why Roman didn’t want the curtain open. He’d want to keep the place clean if this was what he had to do to prevent even the little amount of fibers.

He already knew he had no interest of doing this on his own. He was very much happy to be glued to his job. His social life was in the gutter and the only type of hobby he had was watching reruns, but even watching TV took too much energy these days.

It was nice though to imagine a life where he had the free time and the peace of mind to spend long hours on something “pointless”. However, the way Roman took his time, paying achingly close attention to every detail, it didn’t seem at all pointless. Roman made it feel like this was the most important thing in the world.

Roman pulled out a drawer from the wooden organizer to the left of the desk.

The one thing Marcus had known about Roman from the start was his penchant for being organized. Nothing could be out of place or dirty—whether that was the murder scenes or the small cabin. It was embedded in his DNA.

That was why Marcus was puzzled by the absolute mess of the drawer Roman was rifling through like pack rat.

There were old receipts, twigs, rhinestones, broken silver chains, and more scraps of junk Marcus couldn’t begin to name because Roman was going through it too fast. While the mess of a drawer didn’t seem to be in any kind of order, Roman searched like he knew what he was looking for.

He didn’t stop until he almost reached the bottom. He pulled out broken pieces of mirror which he sat to the side, straightening them into a neat line just the way Marcus would expect for him to do.

Roman put the draw back to its original spot. He grabbed a glue bottle and set to work glueing the mirror pieces into the shadow box. He placed them in different spots. They couldn’t have been at random because he was taking his time getting the position just right. That was further proven right when he grabbed the first bug, the beetle, and glued it in a spot that made the pieces of glass look purposeful.

He continued to work, glueing the insects in places and in positions Marcus was curious to know why. He noticed he was so engaged with Roman’s work that his brows were scrunched painfully hard. He relaxed them and fidgeted on the stool as he tried to brush off the awkwardness he felt.

“Stop moving. You’re distracting me,” Roman murmured as he placed the last insect which so happened to be the dragonfly.

Marcus tried to hold still, really. It was just he couldn’t stop himself from crossing his arms and shifting his hips as he thought about how those same hands handling insects had been on him .

The dragonfly dropped from Roman’s hand and landed crooked in the center of the piece.

Roman tsked. He moved back and looked over at Marcus with a dark look.

Marcus froze under the gaze, eyes wide.

The stare-down lasted for but a moment. Roman seemed to be happy with Marcus’s compliance and went back to fixing the mistake.

Marcus was twitching with how hard it was to keep still. He knew he could have left. He could be back in bed, sleeping whatever weird feeling he was experiencing off. But he didn’t want to. He wanted to be around Roman, to know what he was doing.

Perhaps that was a clue he should distance himself. It was a big fucking red flag he wasn’t terrified to be in the man’s presence.

Even so, he was mesmerized by Roman’s attention to detail. He could never do something like this. It would drive him mad. If Roman was the neatest person in the world, Marcus was the exact opposite. Walking into Marcus’s apartment would give Roman a heart-attack.

A chuckle escaped him as he thought about Roman trying to hastily clean up his apartment. The image of the man tearing his hair out by all the trash and clothes strewn about was the funniest thing since he was kidnapped—possibly before then too.

Roman growled. He swiveled in his chair.

Marcus stopped and froze again, but it was too late. Roman hooked his hand under the stool Marcus was sitting on and yanked. The feet scraped across the floor, screeching as Marcus was jolted forward. Roman didn’t stop tugging the stool until he and Marcus were sitting close together, shoulders brushing.

“Pay attention.”

Roman covered the shadow box up and sat it to the side. He grabbed another box and took the lid off.

The smell hit Marcus’s nose first. He moved back and covered his face.

It was the smell of death. Decay. He recognized it from the countless bodies he’d encountered during his career.

Roman wasn’t at all affected by the smell. He carried on as if nothing was wrong. Frankly, Marcus would be more shocked if Roman was off-put by the smell or even the dead animal in the box. He killed people for a sick thrill—death was his calling card.

Marcus didn’t have the guts to flee. He wanted to run, just jump through the curtain and hide under the bed again. That wouldn’t get the smell out of his head nor would it make the images of every other body he’d ever seen in his life leave him. He’d been riding on the high he’d gotten when he and Roman got off on one another, but now any sort of lingering arousal was gone.

Whatever animal was in the box, it was wrapped up in a black trash bag. Roman carefully unwrapped it. The smell got stronger. Marcus turned his face to the side and swallowed the building gag.

“I-I might puke,” he barely uttered. He squeezed his eyes closed. The scent punched him in the gut. His mouth watered as the impending vomit started to prepare itself.

“There’s a bucket to your left.” Roman’s nonchalance helped to elevate some of Marcus’s anxiety. He hadn’t known what Roman might do if he barfed all over his desk and subsequently his “collection”.

However, Roman didn’t seem to be worried all too much. Marcus didn’t know why Roman was letting him stay. If it was him on the flip side, he would have been angry someone was getting up into his space and watching him work. Roman was able to ignore Marcus for the most part.

Marcus found the trash can. He shakily grabbed it with both hands and pulled it into his lap. He hung his head over it and took deep breaths through his mouth. The smell wasn’t as bad when he didn’t breathe through his nose, but the scent was still there.

“I thought you discovered two of my works,” Roman said as he pulled the animal from its resting place.

Marcus hated that Roman called the dead women his “works” like they were art pieces. They were objects to him. Nothing more than paint smeared across a canvas. Meaningless. Arbitrary. Any kind of value he got from them came in the form of attention he got or psychological damage he inflicted.

“That doesn’t mean I like the smell,” Marcus choked out. He swallowed thickly. His breaths echoed in the empty trash can. There wasn’t even a trash bag inside.

Roman laid the animal down. He removed the trash bag and the cardboard box to the floor. He snapped the gloves off his hands, tossing them with the trash bag and box. He adjusted the overhead light, turning the brightness down and angling it to be only on the animal.

Though Marcus had to fight back his sickness, he still took a look at the animal. It was morbid curiosity and also the strange want to heed to Roman’s order to watch closely to what he was doing.

The animal was a kitten no bigger than Roman’s hand. It was even smaller than the man’s hand since he was large in stature.

Marcus stared at the kitten. Its eyes were closed. The fur was still soft, only a little matted, but still in somewhat good condition. And if Marcus couldn’t smell, he might have thought the kitten was sleeping.

No tears came to his eyes. He didn’t cry, but the sensation of deep sadness filled him. He felt more hopeless than when he’d found his mom lying in a pool of her own blood. He felt more hopeless than when his sister cut all contact from him, leaving him to pick up the pieces of their shattered lives.

His knuckles had gone white with how hard he was gripping the trash can. If he squeezed any harder he might break his fingers or the trashcan.

As if to taunt him, Roman brushed the knuckle of his forefinger along the kitten’s fur.

Marcus curled his lip in disgust. “You…”

Roman pulled his hand away and turned his head to look at Marcus. “I killed her? Is that what you want to ask?”

Marcus clenched his teeth. He wanted to throw something. No. He wanted to hit someone .

Roman placed his hand on the back of Marcus’s neck. Marcus jolted from the cold touch. The pad’s of Roman’s fingers seemed to know exactly where to press to make Marcus weak in all limbs.

Roman leaned down so his face was next to Marcus’s profile.

“What if I did? What are you going to do? You know me, Marcus. I kill humans . Do you think I care at all what I do to animals?”

He wouldn’t cry. He wouldn’t snap. He’d already put too much of himself in this case, into Roman himself. It was as if the man was a walking personification of all his nightmares. The fruition of Roman’s sick twisted games had already ripened and now they were planting their own seeds.

Roman pulled away with a snort. He shook his head. “I didn’t kill her.”

Marcus let out the breath he’d been holding. He slumped over the trash can, brows furrowing as he stared at Roman in confusion. “You didn’t?”

“No, I didn’t,” Roman replied, sounding insulted that Marcus had believed something so ridiculous. “Only someone insecure would kill animals. What’s there to get out of it?”

He said it so casually that Marcus couldn’t tell if he was joking or if he was being serious.

“That’s a little hypocritical.”

Marcus hadn’t said it quietly enough under his breath. Roman very much heard it and gave him the side-eye as he reached for a fresh pair of gloves.

He snapped them on. “Would you rather that I did kill them?”

Marcus focused on his breathing. “I would still hate you the same.”

Yes, is what he thought. He would rather Roman be a heartless killer because that was what he was. It shouldn’t matter that he drew the line at animals because he didn’t draw the line at humans. Innocent women at that. And for what? So he could show off to another psycho? For a pissing contest?

Roman hummed. “And did you hate me last night?”

Marcus narrowed his eyes. He flushed down to his chest and his gut flared in memory. He hoped his annoyance hid the fact his body was preparing for another round.

“We don’t have to like each other to get off.”

Roman turned to the kitten. “I’m glad we’re on the same page.”

He went back to his work as if they’d come to some sort of agreement. Marcus had no idea what he might have agreed to, but whatever it might be, Roman seemed happy about it.

His nerves rose as Roman prepared a jar to place the kitten in. He poured alcohol in the jar and after cleaning the kitten and brushing the fur, he put the small creature into the liquid. Marcus hadn’t ever seen how jarring an animal was done though he’d seen these jars in many films and television shows. Seeing it in person wasn’t as horrible as he thought it would be. He didn’t like it. Not at all, but he was more curious than disgusted.

Roman cleaned up his desk, took off his gloves for a second time, and threw them in the trash. He stood and gestured for Marcus to do the same.

Marcus scrambled to his feet. He still held the trash can when he started toward the curtain. Roman stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

“Oh, the trashcan—” Marcus cut himself off as Roman’s face got closer to his.

He had only enough time to turn his face a fraction before Roman kissed him.

The kiss was merely a brush on his cheek, but it caused tidal waves of reactions.

Marcus was too stunned to speak. He floundered, mouth opened and closing was he blinked. Roman pulled away a few seconds later, eyes dark and lidded.

Marcus somehow found the strength to speak.

“Wha…Did you just…try to kiss me?”

Well, he only managed to try to speak.

Roman’s hand moved to cup Marcus’s cheek. He was still stunned. He couldn’t get himself to move away from the touch. He stared in confusion into Roman’s eyes.

Roman’s gaze roamed over his face, searing his skin as he appreciated Marcus’s features like an artist might appreciate someone else’s work.

“Sealing the deal,” Roman said, his voice lowering at the end.

Marcus’s breath caught in his throat. Roman smiled as he stepped back.

Marcus’s stomach fluttered with butterflies. He didn’t quite know what he’d “agreed” to, but he knew agreeing with Roman over anything wouldn’t end well.

Still, he was alight with anticipation even if it would end in his demise.