GABRIEL (Killer Book 2) (6 page)

BOOK: GABRIEL (Killer Book 2)
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8

"I didn't want to hurt them, I only wanted to kill them."

-David Berkowitz (Son of Sam)

 

I gasp as he drags me towards one of the four walls, pushing my chest against the jagged, grey stone. I grind my teeth as he cuffs each of my wrists above me.

He steps away, but I can still feel his heat at my naked back.

“Do you know why the others always ask for death, Dani?” He asks, and I hear his footsteps echo as he walks across the drafty room. My body begins to tremble when his steps get closer once again, only this time, they are accompanied by the dragging of an object.

I squeeze my eyes shut as I press my cheek against the cold stone.

“Do you?” He growls, sending a chill down my spine.

All is silent for a moment, then, without warning I hear the thin leather slice through the air. I shriek when it bites into my skin, but that doesn’t stop him. He continues to relentlessly tear into my back until I’m eventually slumping over from the pain – willing myself to not allow my soul to shatter, but he is pushing me so very far.

I feel the blood seeping from the wounds that he’s inflicted, just like the tears that leak from my eyes.

Age Twelve

“You’re worthless. You will always be worthless.” He gritted out. My body lay limp as he beat me with the belt. I could literally feel the red slices of my skin raise each time he laid the leather strap across my back and buttocks.

I would always watch his face. His eyes gave away so much. I knew when he was angry, when he wanted to hurt, when he wanted to love… Right now, he wanted to cause me pain. He was causing me pain, but I had just grown so used to it.

It’s then that he grasped the hair at the base of my skull and pulled my head back. I could feel the raised scar, which ran from his temple to his jaw brush against my cheek. “Say it Dani. Say it!”

I blinked several times as I willed my dry lips to part, I had to say what he wanted to hear.

“I – I’m a worthless dirty girl. I don’t deserve love. I don’t deserve anything but pain.” I whispered, igniting a chuckle from him.

He released my hair and my head bounced off of the dirty mattress, “That’s right. Don’t you ever forget it.”

 

A shiver racks through my body when Gabriel runs his fingers gently down my arm.

I blink several times as I try and pull myself back to my feet, “Because… you break them.”

I hear a dark chuckle escape him before he responds, “No Dani. They’re already broken. Just like you.”

I laugh, surprising even myself as I press my forehead against the wall, “You won’t break me, Gabriel. Don’t flatter yourself.”

His hand is quick to tangle in my hair as he pulls my head back and whispers into my ear, “Pain won’t break you? What about feeling? Touch?”

His free hand trails over my breast, to my stomach, and then to the place that I wish never existed.

My heart drums wildly beneath my ribs as he grazes his fingers over my pussy, “Stop. Please. Don’t.”

“Who hurt you? Who made you so afraid of feeling?” He whispers as his finger begins to circle the tiny bundle of nerves.

“No!” I wail as his assault continues. I hate myself as I feel a piece of myself come alive beneath his skilled fingers.

His warm breath spreads across the skin of my neck as he steps closer. I feel his erection press against my abused back as he circles faster and faster.

My sobs become moans as I feel the wetness between my thighs.

“Let me be the one who undoes you,” He rasps before he tilts my head back further. His lips meet mine as I cry out, releasing the demons that have plagued me all these years right into the mouth of the man who has dared to invoke them.

When he pulls away, my eyes snap open and are met with his beautiful green eyes. His brows are pinched together as he looks into my broken soul.

Once he releases my arms from the cuffs, I immediately begin to fall, my brain not willing my legs to keep me upright, but he catches me and pulls me into his arms.

He carries me from the torture room and up the stairs.

I examine my surroundings once we exit the cold, stone hell that I’ve become accustomed to.

We enter a large living room. A warm fire burns within a white, stone fireplace with a large painting exhibited above it. The floors are a dark, cherry wood with black carpets throughout. The couches are large enough to seat a giant comfortably, and I sigh when he places me down and my body meets the soft, black suede.

“Lie down on your stomach.” He says quietly.

Eying him stubbornly, I pull my arms over my naked breasts.

He gives me a warning look, “Now. I need to dress your wounds.”

I follow his order hesitantly and wince as I move clumsily onto my stomach.

Once I’m in place, he kneels beside the couch.

I lay my head on my hand as I watch him go to work on my back, wincing as he dabs my torn flesh with a cotton ball.

“Why am I here?” I whisper.

He stops momentarily before he begins fixing me once more, “Fate I suppose.”

I laugh dryly, “Fate? We had a business meeting, then drinks, and when I didn’t want to fuck you, you took me from my home. This has little to do with fate, and all to do with you being a lunatic.”

He grabs my jaw in his hand, squeezing to the point that I feel the bone will shatter beneath his hold, “Stop pushing me. You will not like the result when I snap. I’ve told you, and I will tell you again, I will not tolerate your snarky remarks.”

The anger swells in his gaze, causing my smile to fade as I clamp my mouth shut.

Once he finishes placing the bandages over my wounds, he helps me to my feet and leads me into his dining room.

My eyes are immediately drawn to a platinum collar with a black, leather leash attached.

It sits proud and ominous in the middle of the table, glistening beneath the low, sensual lighting.

I look towards him, and his eyes land on mine.

“What is this?” I implore as I gesture toward the collar.

The corners of his lips lift up slightly, “It’s a reminder.”

My gaze falls back to the collar as I trace my fingers around the edge, “Am I supposed to wear this?”

“Yes.”

“Why?” I respond, my eyes snapping back to his.

He grabs the collar and holds it in front of him, “This will remind you of your place while you’re here in my home. Here, you are mine to do as I please. I can assure you that it will be a pleasurable experience if you cooperate. Now hold up your hair so I can put it on you.”

I place my hand over my neck as I look up at him, “I’m not an animal. I’m not yours to own, Gabriel.”

He smirks as he steps closer. Leaning in, he whispers into my ear, “You are whatever I want you to be. If I want you to eat and drink from a dog bowl, you will. If I want to fuck you, I will.” He pauses as he runs his fingers down my arm, “See, that’s how things work here. You can either sleep in my soft bed with me, or you can be chained to the floor of the dungeon. You can either eat fine foods, or you can eat mush. Cause and effect.”

He steps back, his eyes never leaving mine.

“What happens after you’re done using me?” I ask, feeling the last of my pride escape my lungs with each word.

Smiling, he runs the back of his fingers over my cheek, “Then I say goodnight.”
My lips part, but I cannot spit out a response. If he says ‘goodnight’, that means that I die, and I’m not ready. Not after everything that I’ve survived.

So, I gather my hair and hold it up, allowing him to step behind me so he can secure his ‘reminder’ around my neck.

I squeeze my eyes shut as the collar clicks locked, sealing my fate.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

9

"All of the sudden I realized that I had just done something that separated me from the human race and it was something that could never be undone, I realized that from that point on I could never be like normal people. I must have stood there in that state for 20 minutes. I have never felt an emptiness of self like I did right then and I never will forget that feeling. It was like I crossed over into a realm I could never come back from."

-David Gore

 

I watch as her golden hair hangs down around her face. Her lips are pursed as she looks down at the warm pasta. The collar is secured around her neck, and the leash lies flat in the valley between her breasts.

“Are you going to eat?”

Her sapphire eyes meet mine from across the table momentarily before she diverts them again. “I’m not hungry.”

Tilting my head to the side, I examine this stubborn woman. She’s not like the others, and I’m pissed at myself for not leaving her alone. How can I say goodnight to someone that fought through such a harsh life, yet survived?

I stand and approach her, causing her to flinch slightly. I grab the plate and walk into the kitchen. Dumping its contents, I rinse the dish and set it in the sink before returning to her.

I hold a hand out, and she stares at it blankly. “Come.”

Licking her lips, she places her hand in mine and follows me up the stairs.

I lead her first into my bedroom and then the bathroom before turning on the shower. Steam fills the bathroom quickly as I turn and face her, “Go on. Take a shower.”

I turn and leave her, closing the door behind me.

I sit on the edge of my bed and pull my phone from my pocket.

Mom 7:40 PM

We’re having family dinner next Sunday. Please come.

I miss you, son.

Love, Mom xoxo

Sighing, I look across the room at my reflection in the large mirror above my dresser. My hair is disheveled. I look tired. My eyes hold more knowing than they should at twenty-five years old. I need to shave. I need to hit the gym again. It’s been days since my last workout.

The worst part, as I look into this mirror, is that I see
him
.

The man who held my mother captive and did unthinkable things to her. I was born as a result of a monstrous act. I have evil in my veins. No-matter how I try and contain my madness, I still kill, just as he did. I took a woman, just as he did - against her will. I’m sick, and the only thing that can quiet my mind is pain. Feeling it… inflicting it.

I look towards the bathroom door and see her standing with a towel clutched around her small body. Wet strands of hair stick to her cheeks and shoulders.

She clears her throat as her eyes meet mine, “I got the bandages wet.”

I run my hand over my face as I stand and toss my phone on my dresser, “Lie down. I’ll redress them.”

She nods as she walks towards the bed, looking over her shoulder momentarily before she drops the towel and lies on her stomach.

I retrieve my supplies from the medicine cabinet and sit beside her.

First, I peel off the wet gauze, and I clean the cuts before applying antiseptic.

Once finished, she crawls under the blanket and pulls it up to her neck. Her weary eyes watch me as I throw away the old bandages and open up my dresser. I feel her gaze burning into me as I remove my clothes and pull on my black, silk pajama pants.

I crawl in beside her and prop my head up on my hand as I stare down at the back of her head. 

She jumps when I reach my arm around her and pull at the chain attached to my iron headboard. I quickly clasp it to the collar and she looks at me from over her shoulder.

“I’ve got to go to work tomorrow. Do you see the windows? There are metal shades that will slide over the glass come tomorrow. This room, like every other room in my home is soundproof. This place could very well survive the apocalypse. So don’t waste your energy trying to escape. There is a mini fridge over there,” I pause as I nod towards it, “It has food in it and drinks.”

She nods haltingly as she begins to lay her head back down.

“Hey,” I say, my eyes catching hers once more, “Don’t go through my shit. I normally would never allow a woman to stay with me in here. I’m very particular. I like order, and I will know if you’ve been digging around. Understood?”

She nods again before lying her head back down.

There is about a foot between us as I lay my own head on the soft pillow next to hers.

Only a few minutes slip by before her breathing slows and she is fast asleep.

My eyes begin to fall shut, but I’m startled when she rolls over and nuzzles her head into my chest. A small grin spreads across her face as her warm body presses against mine. I lift my arm for several seconds, not sure what to do, so I do the only thing that I can muster.

I wrap my arm around her frail body, cupping my hand over the back of her head. I hold her close until my eyes fall shut.

When I awake, she is still in my embrace. I carefully lift my arm and slide out of bed without waking her. Stepping into the shower, I lean my head back as the water pours over my face.

Once finished, I follow my normal routine; brush my teeth and place the tooth paste and toothbrush on the counter – and inch apart exactly, then I shave and position the razor diagonally beside the shaving cream. I apply aftershave – five pats per cheek, and I apply deodorant – ten times beneath each arm.

I comb my hair neatly and am pleased that I am looking more put together today.

Opening the closet, I retrieve my clothing for today – a button up, white dress shirt with some stylish, faded jeans and brown boots polished to perfection.

I spray on my cologne and I’m caught off guard when I see her blue eyes staring at me intently. Placing my wallet, phone and keys in my pocket, I approach her and sit on the edge of the bed. “I’ll be gone for a while. Be good.”
Tilting her head to the side, her eyes implore mine, “What am I supposed to do all day?”

Smiling, I tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear, “I have a full bookshelf over there, and a television there.” I pause, gesturing towards the items, “I’ll be back tonight, and we’ll eat dinner.”

She blinks several times as she bows her head.

“Hey,” I whisper, placing a finger under her chin, tilting her head up.

“I don’t like being alone.” She murmurs.

“I have an idea.” I respond as I stand and approach the door. When I open the door, Bailey runs into the room and jumps onto the bed.

She smiles automatically as he lays his head in her lap, “Who is this?”

“Bailey. He can keep you company. He’s vicious, so don’t think about trying to get away.”

She smiles as her eyes find mine.

“I’ll see you later, Dani.”

“How have you been, Gabriel?” Dr. Gnosh asks.

I sit opposite of her in the roomy, serene office. The walls are a pale yellow and wind chimes catch the breeze through the open window.

“I’m good.” I respond, resting my elbows on my knees as I look down at my hands.

“Good? Just good?” She says soothingly. Her voice is like the calm after the storm.

My eyes meet hers as she stares at me intently from over her glasses.

“Can I ask you a question off the record, Doc?”

Her expression remains neutral as she places her trusty pen and writing pad beside her on the couch. Removing her glasses, she holds them in her hands as she leans forward. “Sure.”

“Is it possible to have inherited my father’s disorder?”

She stares at me momentarily before she responds. “Certain psychopathic traits can be passed down, yes. We would have to eliminate certain characteristics before determining that, though. For example, do you lack empathy? Do you feel contempt towards people for no other reason than them simply existing? Are you narcissistic? Of course, these generally aren’t things that you yourself can determine. Most psychopaths do not acknowledge that there is anything wrong with them. In many cases, they feel that it has nothing to do with them, and everything to do with the world that they live in. We would need to run tests, but tests aren’t all inclusive. People who have this disorder can still lead normal lives. They can love. They can have a family and they can be successful.”
I frown as I stare at my hands. Love? Family? Those are the things that my father wanted more than anything, but never wholly achieved.

“There are two types of psychopathy. To be frank, I generally do not go so in depth with disorders, but you’re a smart man, Gabriel, and based on your history, I think it’s important that you have an understanding. Cleckleyan psychopathy entails bold, disinhibited behavior. Criminal psychopaths are generally meaner and more reckless. The triarchic model suggests that all psychopaths display three main characteristics; Boldness, disinhibition and meanness. Obviously, any one person who is diagnosed as someone with psychopathy may display one or more of the characteristics than others. We’re all unique.”

“What about pain? The enjoyment of feeling pain? Feeling… pleasure from it?”

She smiles as she stares at me, “Sadomasochism, yes – it has been argued that people with psychopathic tendencies seek pleasure in violent sexual acts. When you narrow it down, the enjoyment associated with sadomasochism is inciting sexual pleasure while violence resembles attachment… ownership in most cases. I think it’s important to remember that those who practice consensual sadomasochism do so out of love and attachment – or the need for love and attachment.”

“What about relationships? You say love is possible, how is that achieved?”

She tilts her head to the side, “Love – yes, love is possible. Relationships are generally more difficult for a psychopath. Where emotions, empathy and things of that nature run deeper for others, sometimes it simply doesn’t exist for someone with psychopathic tendencies. Sex is usually unbalanced in these relationships because the psychopathic counterpart of the relationship tends to seek pleasure for only themselves, leaving the other feeling unappreciated, or used. Psychopaths are sexually motivated by power. They are sadists. This is why psychopaths tend to seek out the lonely types, because they tend to be susceptible to a psychopath’s sexual behavior.”

She stops and looks over her shoulder at the clock which hangs above her desk, “I’m afraid our time is up, Gabriel.”

Her eyes find mine, “I’ll see you next week.”

I walk out of the double doors and into the dreary afternoon air. The Manhattan streets are packed full as people bustle about. My eyes are drawn to familiarity as I see the wet paper flap in the breeze. Her smile is bright, her hair pulled over her shoulder. “
Missing
” is typed in bold letters above her photo.

Dani LeBlanc

Height: 5’6

Weight: 120

Eyes: Blue

Hair: Blonde

Last seen in her apartment building. Mysteriously vanished after taking the day off.

I sigh as the rain taps against my face. I text my father, letting him know that I’m taking the rest of the day off as I walk to the bar a couple of buildings down.

 

 

 

 

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