A/N: Welp, this is definitely long overdue... I'm trying to get back on track with this and other stories now that I'm done school (like, graduated college. Woo, go me), so you can now expect updates on this story every other month at the least, with the update schedule I've set up for myself.
Also, just so ya know, Teela's language has begun to devolve along with her control of her life and situation. (Like, Deb-level cussing going on here.)
Also, there's gonna be lots of Brian/Rudy from here on out. Woo.
chapter six: volatile
I grit my teeth as I found myself regaining consciousness with a throbbing pain in the back of my head. Opening my eyes revealed that I was sitting in the passenger seat of my car, which was parked in my garage. I quickly recalled the events that had happened prior to my being knocked unconscious, and I growled.
Great. So he's a courteous psychopath. Fan-fucking-tastic.
Well, not courteous enough to lay me down on a couch or something so I don't get the mother of all kinks in my neck. Good, I no longer feel like I'm indebted to him, I think as I try to massage the massive knots in my muscles out. My fingers pause in their ministrations, however, as I realize something incredibly important.
He'd openly admitted to stalking me. And he'd driven me right to my own home.
"Motherfucker!" I swore loudly, banging my fists against the dash.
A paper that I distinctly don't remember being there before falls from its perch atop the console, and I hesitate before picking it up, seeing that it's a newspaper clipping.
'Man Found Dead, Drained of Blood in Brandon, Florida,' it read. There was speculation of it being the work of a serial killer, as there had been some similar murders in the area in the past few years.
Ugh. Not another one, I thought. Wasn't having to deal with my uncle enough? Now I have this nut job trying to 'improve me' or whatever... I didn't need improving! I was careful, and if he wasn't blatantly stalking me, he never would have found me out to begin with. I killed only when I could no longer deny the aching thirst for death, and even then, I still felt remorse after I slipped back out of my vengeful persona. The only difference from my earlier years was that I no longer tried to deny myself the pleasure that giving in to that persona brought with it.
I crumpled the newspaper clipping into a ball in my fist, but paused before getting rid of it. He had said something about having to work for answers...answers... I carefully smoothed the paper back out, staring at it, trying to decipher what it meant. It was definitely about him, but...what were his motives behind leaving it for me? I ground my teeth together in agitation as nothing came to mind.
"Fuck it," I mumbled, exiting the car and entering the house. I would just have to find someplace to put his irritating little clues. I had no doubt that if he gave me this one, there would be more coming my way in the not-so-distant future.
Goddamn psychopaths.
I really fucking hate it when I'm right.
Over the next few weeks, I would catch fleeting glimpses of the psychopath's irritatingly smug face at the most random times throughout my day. Once, I caught a glimpse of him at the same supermarket I'd (literally) run into him at before, and once when I was out on my daily run, and once when I was at work I caught a glimpse of him dropping off a delivery for a pizza company. I was quite certain that wasn't his real job, though. Psychopaths have a need for powerful jobs. Hell, just look at my uncle, who works in law enforcement, as an example. They're drawn to powerful jobs like moths to the flame. He wasn't just a pizza delivery guy. I reckoned he'd shoot himself in the head before taking a measly job like that. Nevertheless, every time I just about caught him, the moment I went over to consult him, I'd just miss him. Slippery little bugger.
And every time, there would end up being a new newspaper clipping tucked on the dash of my car.
I was getting so irritated just by looking at the scraps of paper that I'd pinned to the back wall of my closet. They were lined up in a neat little row, starting with the first one I'd received and ending with the most recent one. They were all about similar murders, though the timeline was all out of whack. The first one I'd received was from just a few months ago, and then the one after was five years old, the next one seven years old, and the most recent one only two and a half years old.
"What the hell?" I mumbled to myself, staring at them and trying to make some sort of connection.
Of course they had the connection of being similar murders. I knew they were all ones that he had committed. But there was something I was missing. What, though? That was the one thing I couldn't figure out. I was wracking my brain and coming up empty. Sighing, I took one last look, trying to focus on one aspect at a time. Method... time... location... what about the locations?
"Brandon... Rockledge... Indialantic... Aventura..." I murmured under my breath. "Shit."
There were no similarities between city size, either. Indialantic was a small town, Brandon was a large city, and Rockledge and Aventura were somewhere in the middle.
I growled, clenching my fists and resisting the urge to punch the wall, knowing it would damage my hand and then people at work would start asking questions. I hate it when people ask questions. Scratch that; I hate it when people starting asking questions about me. I would prefer it if everyone just minded their own business, thank you very much.
That's why I like self-absorbed people like my partner at the firm. They just focus on themselves. It's refreshing.
Taking a deep, calming breath, I ran my hands through my hair, staring at the papers once more to try and figure out what it was I was missing. When nothing jumped out at me, I sighed, resolving to sleep on it. Again.
Maybe that would help where it hadn't the past twenty-two times.
I slept restlessly, and when I woke, my mind was still focused on the mystery of the newspaper clippings. I was still no closer to getting any answers than I'd been the night before. All I'd dreamt about was that psychopath chasing me, laughing in a way that sent chills down my spine. His eyes were everywhere, and there was nowhere for me to hide.
It wasn't the first time I'd had that dream, and I was sure it wouldn't be the last.
After having a quick, lukewarm shower to wash away the cold sweat I was covered in, I dressed for my morning run, setting aside my work clothes so I could quickly wash up and change once I got back. I scarfed down a protein bar and strapped my iPod on my arm, grabbing my water bottle and shoving my runners on on the way out the door. Maybe, I thought with annoyance, I would see that damn psychopath again and actually get some answers out of him this time. I didn't get my hopes up, but...it was a thought.
I warmed up for the first few minutes at a brisk walk until I got to the running path I usually took through the nearby park, and then I picked up speed at a quick jog. It wasn't until I caught movement beside me that I realized someone had joined me, since my music covered even the sound of my own heavy footfalls. I jerked my head to the side, not quite prepared for the realization of who it was that had joined me.
I stumbled, barely catching myself. One of my earbuds fell out, and I heard the harsh bark of laughter from the curly-haired psychopath whose little game I'd been trying to solve for over three weeks now. It didn't sound amused, though. Just cruel. He was laughing at me in more than the sense that I couldn't keep my balance.
"Oh, come on. Don't stop now," he said, motioning for me to join him as he picked up running again.
Growling, I shut my music off and gave a burst of speed to catch up to him.
Bastard. Bastard. Bastard, my mind repeated with each step I took.
"Now," he drawled, sounding as though he wasn't even making an effort. Not that I was breathing very hard at this point so early in my run, but he made it seem as though he was strolling through a field of goddamn daisies. "Just what is it that's taking you so long in solving the little puzzle I've been sending you? I mean, I realize that I'm only sending you one piece at a time, but I would've thought you'd be smart enough to figure out the connections with what you do have already."
I glared at him. "And what's to say I haven't?" I challenged.
He just gave that mocking laugh again. I already hate that laugh.
"If you had, you would've tried to rub my face in it. That's just the kind of person you are," he smirked.
He's right.
Damn him.
I don't even bother replying. I don't need to. He has that smug look back again, like he just won. It makes me feel defeated, which in turn makes me angry. I'm not one to just lay down and admit defeat. But what else can I do? I grit my teeth at what I'm about to do.
"...I need a hint," I ground out. The taste of the words was bitter in my mouth. Oh, no, wait...that's blood. I was biting the inside of my cheek so hard out of frustration that I drew blood. I am seriously done with this man and the fury he evokes from me. My blood pressure must be through the roof at this point.
"Oho, so the princess admits she doesn't have the smarts to crack the code," he says. His expression is chilling as he glances at me from the corner of his eye. As though I've just signed over my soul to the devil. No...that would be giving the devil too much credit. This man scares me so much more than a vague religious concept ever did, no matter how much my aunt Aria tried to hammer the fear of God and Satan into me as a child. Back then, I was too busy fearing my uncle Callum, but now, this man scares me so much more than he ever did.
"Hm. I'll give you a hint...later."
My blood is practically boiling with anger. I grind my teeth together so hard I wouldn't be surprised if he could hear it. If he does, though, he says nothing about it.
"Right," I say drily. "In that case, I bid you farewell...some of us have jobs to go to." I quickly turn and backtrack down the running path, picking up the pace a bit to get away from him as quickly as possible.
Apparently, however, he still feels the need to get the last word in, as he calls out after me.
"Have fun at work, honey! I'll see you later!"
A shiver runs down my spine.
I don't doubt that he will.
My psychopath stalker is true to his word. When I get back to my car after work, there is another newspaper clipping sitting on my dash. It makes me wonder if he really doesn't have a job, or if he's been driving over to put the clippings in my car during his lunch breaks just to mess with my head a bit more. I wouldn't put it past him. Picking up the clipping, I scan over it-murder just like the others, but this time in Niceville, Florida. The irony of him murdering someone in a town called Niceville, of all things, doesn't escape me, and I chuckle briefly despite the fact that I hate the man intensely.
There is a yellow post-it note stuck to the back of the clipping, and I pull it off to examine it.
'Starts with a B,' it reads.
I just about tear it in two. I waited the entire day just for that? What a rip.
Nevertheless, I place it on the seat beside me for the drive home, and immediately take the two papers to my closet once I get home, pinning the newspaper at the end of the line and scanning over them all once more.
"Starts with a 'B', huh...?" I murmur, focusing on the first article. Murder in Brandon, Florida. Brandon... okay, starts with a 'B'.
Wait, what if that's the connection? What if the names of the towns are supposed to spell a word using the first letters of their names? I grab a pencil from my desk and underline the first letter of each of the town names.
B... R... I... A... N.
Well, fuck me. How did I not think of that before? I'm very disappointed with myself right now. No time for that, though, I think as I run to grab my laptop and start searching violent crimes in Florida that have any connection to someone named 'Brian'. Since I have no last name to go with at this point, there are a frustrating number of results, and after I've spent an hour of fruitless searching, I growl and change tactics. If he's in Miami, that has to mean something, right? Maybe I should start there...
I find a potential hit in less than ten minutes.
Laura Moser, dismembered in a shipping crate years ago in front of her sons Brian and Dexter, who sat in the crate for two days before being rescued.
Well, that's sure as hell enough to mess you up in the head for life.
The sound of the garage man-door opening is enough to get me on my feet, scrambling for the knife under my pillow. I shut my laptop and hide behind the door, waiting for the intruder to make the mistake of crossing the threshold into my room. I concentrate on keeping my breathing shallow and quiet as the footsteps draw closer, stopping in the hall outside my room.
"Honey, I'm home!" comes the voice of the deranged killer I'd come to know and hate.
Well, here goes nothing.
"Brian Moser," I say, not phrasing it as a question. Maybe I'll get points for confidence. How should I fucking know?
There's the sound of applause.
"Oh, well done! Took you long enough," he says sarcastically. "Now, are you going to put your knife down or do I have to come in and make you?"
I cussed under my breath, making him laugh that caustic laugh of his. I drop the knife to the ground with a clatter, slowly shuffling out from behind the door to see him staring at me with an approving smirk.
"Good girl," he said, grabbing my arm and dragging me to the living room. I didn't bother putting up a fight at this point. I knew when I was outmatched. Didn't mean I had to like it, though. "Now, let's discuss...business, shall we?"
"Uh-huh. And what 'business' would that be?" I said blandly. I had a pretty good idea what he might want, considering the timing he'd had in approaching me to begin with, but I didn't want to jump to any conclusions with this man. That might prove...more dangerous than need be.
Brian made himself comfortable on my couch, leaning back with his arms across the back of the couch, his legs crossed in a relaxed manner. I, on the other hand, had my fists clenched atop my thighs, and was perched on the edge of the couch, ready to make a run for it if need be. He studied me for a moment, giving me a wink and an infuriating smirk.
"I want to help you get rid of that pesky problem of yours," he stated vaguely.
I glared at him. "You mean you? That should be easy enough. Go away."
He rolled his eyes at me.
"No. I mean your uncle."
My heart gave a lurch. I would finally be free from the threat of my uncle? But... I stared at Brian. I wouldn't really be free, though, would I? I would just be trading one monster for another, much worse, monster. I mulled the thought over in my mind for a moment before coming to a realization.
I didn't really have a choice here, did I? He'd just kill me if I didn't entertain him. He wouldn't even bat an eye. At least with my uncle, he had my aunt Aria as a barrier keeping him from killing me.
No choice.
"And what all does this deal entail?" I asked. I at least wanted to know what kind of hellfire and damnation I was getting myself into here.
Brian shrugged.
"I want to rid you of your guilt."
The blood in my veins turned cold. At this point, I felt my guilt was the only thing keeping me human. He was, essentially, going to strip away what was left of my humanity and make me into something like himself.
A psychopath.
"And what do you get out of this?" I found myself asking, numb.
"A source of amusement...a partner in crime...if you can keep up, that is." Again with that damn smirk. I wanted to slap it off his face. Too bad my sense of self-preservation was much too strong for that.
I held out my hand to him.
"You have a deal."
His hand was like ice in mine.