GABRIEL (Killer Book 2) Read online

  The morning sun illuminates the room. I open my eyes and roll onto my back, blinking the sleep awayas I look towards my alarm clock. I reach over to retrieve my phone and see numerous messages from Misty, and one from Gabriel.

  Gabriel Smith 6:15 AM

  “I want to see you again.”

  I frantically place my phone to my lips as I sit up in bed. I look over and watch the bare branches sway beyond the window as my eyes tear up.

  I can’t see him again. Not after my episode last night. I’ve managed to hang onto my sanity for this long, I’m not letting go now.

  Not after years of torment and then more of trying to heal my broken mind. His green eyes tell me that he’s a danger to my heart.

  I jump when my phone buzzes, looking at the screen, I see that it’s Taylor.

  “Hey.”

  “Oh! Dani! Hey, I was going to see if you were coming in today? You’re usually here by now.”

  I sigh, “Have the shipments came in?”

  “Uh, yeah. I’ve got it covered though. You’re clear of any appointments, so if you want to take the day off, I can hold down the fort.”

  I look around my apartment, which is an absolute disaster. I haven’t had a day off in so long. Maybe I should, though that damned voice keeps telling me to stay busy.

  “Yeah, I think I’m going to get some things taken care of around here. Thanks Taylor.”

  “You deserve it. See you tomorrow!”

  I end the call and place my phone on my nightstand. I begin gathering clothes from random places around my room and throw them into the hamper. Once that’s done, I get to work on the kitchen, the bathroom and the living room.

  I place my hands on my hips as I look around. I can’t remember the last time my home has been this clean. I have to admit, it is nice.

  I walk back to the bedroom and my eyes dart open when I see the window is standing wide open. My eyes frantically scan the room.

  I’m just about to turn and get the hell out of here when an arm wraps around my waist and a hand slaps over my mouth. I wiggle to try and escape his grasp, but he’s got me, and something tells me that my current life will soon be a fond memory.

  There isn’t any use in screaming. He’s placed a drug – likely chloroform – over my mouth. My knees buckle under me as I go limp in his arms.

  Finally, all goes black and I say goodbye.

  5

  "When this monster entered my brain, I will never know, but it is here to stay. How does one cure himself? I can't stop it, the monster goes on, and hurts me as well as society. Maybe you can stop him. I can't."

  -Dennis Rader (BTK)

  Eighteen Years Old

  The alcohol flowed through my veins freely, making me feel warm and fuzzy. Drinking had become my safe haven. I needed it to quiet my mind, because nothing else ever seemed to work. My days had become school, fucking, drinking, and repeat.

  While my parents mingled with the guests, I watched through the large window. The snow was falling, and in my drunken state, each flake looked like a descending white star.

  Every now and then I would clumsily reach forward to touch one, yet I would always miss.

  “You’re disappointing me.” The shadow man said.

  I didn’t startle when he suddenly appeared. I was used to it, that and I was too drunk to care. He was only a blur, and that’s how I came to see him. He usually only visited me when I was so shitfaced that I could barely walk.

  I scoffed at his statement. Disappointing him? I was already used to disappointing everyone, so the fact that I’d let down a figment of my imagination didn’t matter much.

  “What’s it to you? You don’t exist.” I slurred before tipping the bottle back and swallowing the remaining contents.

  He chuckled momentarily before his hooded face snapped in my direction, “I am more real than you think, Gabriel.”

  I smirked as I reached towards his hood, but he grabbed my wrist and squeezed tightly, causing me to wince.

  “You need to feed them. They won’t stop until you do.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him as I yanked my arm away, “I’ll never be like him.”

  My eyes snapped to the balcony door as my mom peeked out and smiled, “What are you doing out here, hun?”

  I looked to the side of me and saw that the shadow man had disappeared, again, no surprise there.

  Looking back towards mom, I forced a smile, “I was getting a little claustrophobic, that’s all.”

  She nodded as she wrapped her arms around herself, “Well, come in soon. This is your celebration. You should be in there celebrating graduation with your friends.”

  “I know. Give me a second.”

  When she went back inside, I looked over the railing.

  There he was, standing still, staring up at me from the lawn. Then, he nodded and disappeared into the darkness of the vacant street.

  “So, how are our numbers? Any new contracts?” My father asks. Able has raised me since I was a baby. He is my dad, and I care about him as much as I can care.

  “Yeah.” I respond, “I’m working with Barley and Sons on some new establishments. It’s a multi-billion dollar deal. Good stuff.”

  He leans back and eyes me from across the desk. He’s got that whole dapper, hipster look going for him. His hair is greying and he’s got this huge beard. He’s also covered in tattoos, but he’s had them since I can remember. Women swoon over him everywhere he goes.

  He smiles kindly as his blue eyes look into mine, “How are you, Gabriel? Is everything good with you? You never come by the house anymore. Mom misses you.”

  I smile slightly as I think of mom. I used to look at her and think that she was the most beautiful woman in the world. She still is beautiful… and kind. Over time I’ve just found it hard to torment her with my presence.

  I look down at the pen that I’ve been steadily tapping against my knee, “Yeah, I know. I’ve just been busy. I’ve been doing some new renovations on the house.

  “Yeah?”

  I nod as I look up at him, “I’ll stop by soon. I promise.”

  We both stand and he pats my back once he rounds the desk, “I love you, son. I’ll see you on Monday.”

  “See you.” I respond as I exit.

  The drive home is tense. Mostly because I have no earthly idea what I’m going to do with a woman as strong as Dani. She’s down in the cell that I had built immediately next to the dungeon where I keep the tools that feed my vices.

  The women that I generally take are ready to meet death. I usually find them on suicide support groups or they end up pouring out their heart and soul to me in bars and clubs.

  Now I’ve got beautiful, little Dani on my hands, up and coming fashion designer.

  I had this all planned out. It would have been idiotic to take her the night of her little breakdown. So I sent her a text this morning, and I watched as she ran around her apartment. Her eyes were fixed right in front of her. All focus was committed to the task of cleaning. She never noticed me.

  I had been in her closet, watching her through the small spaces in the door, watching as her body moved when she would reach down to pick up a piece of clothing, or when she moved quickly back and forth as she led the vacuum through her apartment.

  I don’t know her, but I know that she never stops going for a reason. She’s running away from something. Her mind.

  That’s part of the reason why I took her. The way that she challenged me was something that I’ve honestly never encountered before, but those blue eyes are hiding so many secrets of the past. I want to uncover them.

  When she left the room, I opened the window in order to distract her before I drugged her.

  It did, and luckily it was pitch black outside and the alley behind her apartment was vacant. I took her down the emergency escape and then placed her in my car. The rest is history.

  I enter my home and tap in the code to quiet the alarm.

  “Hey, Bailey.” I whisper as m
y Siberian husky comes up to greet me. I give him a pet before stopping in the entry and listening to the silence. None of the women are making a peep. Surely Dani is awake by now.

  I walk down the long hall and descend the flights of stairs.

  Finally, I arrive outside of the door of the cell that she occupies. Placing my hand over the knob, I lean over and place my ear to the door. Nothing. Is she fucking dead?

  I quickly enter the code and the lock clicks. I place a palm on the door and push it open. My eyes travel over her body as she sits in the corner with her arms wrapped around her knees. She is still wearing her pajamas that she was wearing when I took her.

  She only looks forward as the light flickers above. I tilt my head and continue watching her, contemplating what to say, because this is clearly abnormal.

  “Why aren’t you yelling, pleading, screaming for help?” I ask quietly after several minutes of trying to figure her out.

  Her eyes never leave the wall as her lips curl up slightly, “I’m not afraid.”

  “Why?”

  Finally her eyes meet mine, “You can’t be afraid when you’ve survived hell.”

  “I knew there was something different about you.” I respond dryly.

  She shakes her head slowly before her gaze transfixes on the wall once more.

  I become annoyed. Why isn’t she fighting and screaming – beating against my chest in response to what I’ve done?

  I quickly exit and close the door, hearing the automatic lock echo throughout the narrow hallway.

  I turn and go to my dungeon, where Shyla is waiting eagerly for my next command. Natalie already said goodnight days ago, now it’s her turn.

  Beneath the hooks, I have four chains and cuffs arranged. She is completely nude as her silken hair spreads over her back. She’s bowing, her knees tucked below her stomach as her palms press against the stone floor beside her forehead.

  “Hello beautiful.” I whisper as I kneel and place my hand on the back of her head, “Are you ready?”

  She lifts her head slightly as her eyes travel up to meet mine, “Yes Gabriel.”

  I unlock the cuffs and grasp the leash, which is attached to her collar. I walk her from the room and lead her further down the hall beneath my home.

  We stop at the door at the very end of the hall.

  I look over my shoulder and see that her head is bowed, her breathing is shallow, but other than that, she doesn’t make a peep.

  I enter the code and lead her into the room. The light automatically comes on once the door opens and flickers to life.

  I lean down and whisper in her ear, “It’s time to write your letter.”

  She nods slowly as she walks over to the desk and sits quietly. I stand in the doorway and watch as she picks up the pen. She looks over at me and I nod to reassure her.

  I will find the family that forgot her, and I will send them her last words anonymously. The ones that failed her will forever have to live with what they’ve done to her.

  She clears her throat and places the pen atop the paper, “I’m finished.”

  I enter the room and close the door behind me.

  “Come here.” I whisper.

  She slowly gets up and approaches me. I place a finger under her chin and tilt her head up, “Farewells always come easy to those wishing for death. I’ll make this as painless as possible. You will be numbed from the neck down. You may feel some pressure, but nothing more.”

  She nods, her empty eyes asking for one thing; death.

  “Lie down.” I whisper, gesturing towards the surgical table. She does.

  I sigh as I remove the collar from her neck and place it on the table of instruments beside me.

  Once I insert the IV into her vein, I close my eyes as I listen to it drip into her bloodstream. I allow about ten minutes for the sound to put me into the trance that I crave.

  “Do you feel this?” I whisper as I run the flat end of the scalpel along the side of her calf.

  “No.” She responds as a single tear runs over her cheek.

  I run the scalpel over her stomach, to the curve of her breast and down her arm. “What about this?”

  “No.” She murmurs through trembling lips.

  I pull a sheet up between her neck and body. I don’t want her to see what I’m going to do next. This part is for me, to fulfill my own sick fantasies. Her wish is to die, mine is to touch and feel tissue, blood and all of the other tidbits that built her.

  I do not want her to feel pain. Not now. Not as the last minutes of her life tick away.

  She will not feel anything, but as the blood begins to drain from her, she will die, sometimes slowly, sometimes quickly.

  I cut into the skin on top of her leg slowly, relishing how the blood rises to the incision, then slowly trickles down the side of her leg.

  “Tell me about the happiest day of your life, Shyla.” I whisper. These are moments that I wish for them to relive as they say goodbye.

  I hear her exhale before she responds, “It was my fifth birthday, I think. It was before m-my mother died.”

  I smile as I carefully peel the skin back, “What did you do on that day?”

  “We went and had ice-cream. She gave me a teddy bear, and I thought it was the most special bear in the world.”

  I look over the sheet and see that she is grinning as she recounts the memory. “What was so special about the bear?”

  I run my fingers over the stringy muscle of her leg as she responds, “He was purple and had glittery fur. I would pretend that he was magic and that he could talk.”

  I smile as I cut deep into her thigh and locate her femoral artery, “Did he?” I ask as I swiftly nip the artery with my scalpel.

  She laughs dryly, “No, of course not.”

  The sheet below her is quickly turning crimson as I move up to her arm and examine her wrist. I cut slowly to expose the veins, which resemble tiny trees.

  “What else do you remember about her… your mother?” I inquire as I cut into her radial artery.

  She doesn’t immediately respond, and I look over the sheet and see that her eyelids are fluttering, “I… she was… pretty… long hair, bright green eyes.” She smiles, “Like yours… so pretty.”

  I tilt my head as I run a finger over her cheek. Moving over her, I kiss her forehead. “I hope you sleep well, gorgeous.”

  Swiftly, I run the scalpel deeply from ear to ear. She makes several gurgling sounds, but then, she is still and beautiful. A dead beauty who wished for death.

  I run my hand over her hair and look into her eyes as the life drains from them. Tears that have not been shed sit in the corners of her eyes and a peaceful smile remains on her face.

  I lean down and kiss her lips before pulling her eyelids down.

  “Goodnight. I hope you find happiness on the other side. Maybe we will meet again. Perhaps you will haunt my dreams with the others.”

  6

  "Total paranoia is just total awareness."

  -Charles Manson

  Age Seventeen

  “Dani girl, you belong to me. Forever, you will belong to me. You may not know it yet, but you’re perfection. You’re everything that I’ve ever wanted. You’re mine, my beautiful Dani girl.” He said as he held me tightly in his arms.

  He’d always done that, beating me bloody, using me until I no longer felt human.

  But then, he would hold me tightly and whisper sweet nothings into my ear. He would kiss every wound. It was the only time that I ever felt loved.

  Little did I know, it would be the last time that I’d ever see him.

  As I sit here staring at the wall of my small prison, my heart doesn’t pump any faster than it normally would. I’m completely numb from the inside out, this occurs when I know that I’m in danger, when I know that I’m trapped.

  I’d learned that a long time ago when my father would lock me in the closet for hours on end, to the point where I soiled and wet myself. When my little stomach was so hung
ry, that I began to believe that my own body was eating itself from the inside out.

  I learned not to scream because it would make me thirstier, and I learned not to cry because it would be useless.

  I learned that I was a whore when he raped me repeatedly. Light became my friend, and darkness, the enemy.

  The mind can be a fragile thing, but it can also turn off when you need it to, especially after your heart has been ripped from your chest over and over and over again.

  This is nothing. I’ve seen worse, I’ve hurt worse and I’ve survived worse.

  As soon as I woke in here, I knew it was him. I knew, because his eyes told me a dangerous story. I knew, because he made me feel. It was either falling for him, or this. Ironically, I would choose this over love.

  Life has taught me that love can be the most dangerous, painful thing that you will ever encounter.

  The lock clicks, but I don’t bother to look. There isn’t a point in allowing myself to believe in his beauty over his intentions. Intentions are what matter.

  “Come here.”

  Without a word, I stand and approach him, keeping my eyes locked onto his chest.

  My body grows rigid when he reaches towards my tank top, his fingers pinching the hem as he lifts the fabric.

  This, this is when I am certain that I’ll lose my shit. No other man has touched me, I’ve never allowed it. Not after what my father did. How are you supposed to trust anyone else after the one man that was supposed to love and protect you hurt you time and time again? I’ll tell you how – you don’t. You live the rest of your life trusting no one.

  I grab his wrists and my eyes find his as I slowly shake my head, “Please.”

  “It doesn’t work that way. It’s time that you face your demons.”

  I step away, “Then let me. I can undress myself.”

  He tilts his head as he steps forward, “Lesson one. Trust.” He grasps the fabric as my hands frantically grab at it, but it’s no use as he rips it down the middle.

  I drop to my knees as the sobs rock through me like a thunderstorm, but he grabs my arms and pulls me back to my feet.