Chapter Twenty

He looked around at the once bare plaster walls now covered with posters and magazine cut outs. It wasn’t fair that this man, this blond, blue eyed man had his kitty. He knew from the internet that the blond man had a house in the Hamptons. A wave of anger swept through him and he wanted to kill. He could feel the blood rushing through his veins, the drowning sound of his heart beat, thundering through his ears. She was his and anyone who stood in his way was going to suffer the same fate. He smiled as he thought of the word suffer…oh yes he was going to make Blondie suffer…His kitty cat needed to be taught a lesson. He could hear sirens outside and smiled. No one knew about this place. He looked down at the terrified woman strapped down on his bed and smiled at her. Large, unfocused eyes stared back at him and she began to struggle, muffled shouts coming through the gag.

“Well well Melissa, this will teach you not to touch my kitty cat’s things.” he bent down to whisper into her ear. The young woman was hyperventilating, her eyes darting about in absolute terror, her breathing was heavy and panting as sweat dripped down her brow, through her greasy, lank hair and onto the stained sheet beneath her. She felt like her limbs were being ripped apart and her veins were being chewed up by insects with metal teeth. She needed a fix.

He smiled as he thought how easy it had been for him to get to her. He had found her, with the rubber still wrapped around her upper arm, floppy and unresponsive. It had taken him a matter of minutes to pick her up and carry her back to this room. His special room. Stiffly, he turned away from her and walked over to a small metal tray that seemed out of odds with the rest of the room. Large brown splashes dotted the walls and the cold, concrete floor. An old, cracked porcelain sink stood over in a corner, with a rusted tap coming out of the bare plaster. Water dripped slowly but insidiously into the sink. The sound of the water soothed his mortal soul.

Light glinted off metal. He smiled, the rank smell of iron, from the blood on the walls and floor, in his nose. Today was a good day. Slowly he turned back to Melissa and walked gradually; deliberately over to her, holding his hand out in front of him until she could focus on the scalpel. Her whimpers turned to screams as he advanced on her, all the while smiling at her.

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“So what are we doing for Christmas day? Are we going over to your parents or staying here?” Abby asked as Jon began to pack away a few food items he’d had delivered from a nearby supermarket.

“Why?” he asked, as he pulled open drawers, before switching the kettle on.

“Because if we’re staying here we need to get some food in, like a turkey and all the trimmings and then you need to teach me how to cook it.” Abby smiled, “I’m certain I’ve cooked one before but I’m buggered if I can remember how.” She poured coffee grounds into the large cafetiere that was sitting next to the kettle. Jon had managed to get an irish cream flavoured brand and she was itching to try it, having had a Baileys the previous night.

“I swear sometimes you use your amnesia to get out of all the interesting jobs.” Jon murmured as he looked in the cupboards, pulling them open one by one.

“That’s not what I meant and you know it. I meant I can’t remember if I’ve ever had to cook a roast dinner, not that I couldn’t do it. I can read instructions you know and I’m certain turkeys have big stickers on them with instructions on how to cook printed on them.” Abby stepped back, stung by Jon’s words. She’d been in a strange mood since Jon had woken her up that morning. Not that it wasn’t a nice way to wake up, she just felt on edge and irritable.

“Ok, I was just saying…” he said, a hint of irritation in his voice

“Well don’t,” she turned to look at him, as he poured hot water into the cafetiere, “Don’t you think it’s frustrating for me to have holes in my head. To not be able to remember films and books and people and things?, to have all these problems and not a single person out there can help me with it!!!” she stared at him, her voice getting more and more shrill with every word until she was shouting at him.

“What the fuck?” he turned to look at her, his arms slightly raised, palms up in the universal What the Fuck gesture. He turned back to the cafetiere that was resting against the terracotta splash back tiles and calmly poured himself a cup of coffee before flinging it, cup and all, across the kitchen, narrowly missing Abby, who froze where she stood.

“Problems? You think you’ve got fucking problems? What the fuck do you know about problems?,” he intoned, raising his arms up to the heavens, “Oh yeah, right, I forgot…you can’t remember your fucking problems…” he drawled, heavy sarcasm leeching out, his eyes wild and heavy, his chest heaving with exertion and anger.

Abby felt tears well up as she looked at him. Who was this man? She felt scared stiff with the realisation that she’d just been playing house with this man. That this wasn’t real, that she had a life somewhere out there. Slowly she back away and fled up the stairs.

Jon stood, sagging as the anger slowly left him, until he slid down the cupboard to sit on the floor.

You are such a fucking asshole… His conscience was back and gunning for him.

“Tell me something I don’t know.” he whispered to himself as tears flowed down his cheeks and he sobbed for the first time in a year.