Dear Captor (Letters in Blood series Book 1) Page 2

  Giving a slight nod, she gets to work putting my order together. I scan the room looking for the mystery man, Blackwood. My hope fizzles quickly when I can’t find him.

  While I stand and wait for my lunch order a news alert comes on the television. A tap of the shoulder interrupts me. It’s another worker. “Excuse me, miss, a guy left this for you. You were busy talking to Tara, and he didn’t want to disturb you.” The small girl extends her hand to me, and within it there’s a card—a business card.

  Taking it, I thank her and flip it over. My stomach tumbles to the floor, and my knees actually become weak. It’s mystery man’s business card. Detective Roman Blackwood.

  I’m pulled from staring at what’s in my hand when a familiar face appears on the news alert. I stand with my mouth hanging open in shock, as I watch, horrified.

  “Another young woman has been found. The family were notified earlier today and have since identified her to be local resident, Rebecca Dowds. Our sources tell us that the family had not been concerned for her well-being, as they were under the assumption she was holidaying with friends. Police are urging people to be safe and travel in groups until they have more details. If you saw or know anything, please call the hotline on the number below. Unfortunately, we’re unable to confirm if it’s related to the other young female murders. More news later tonight.”

  My feet are planted to the spot, my mouth still wide with shock. This can’t be right. Rebecca’s picture lights up the screen, and my stomach feels like lead. A chill freezes its way down my spine. Her smile is bright in the image. Oh my gosh… I should have called the police. Sometimes she’d go away for a day or two at a time, especially if she and her current flavor of the day, or month, were fighting.

  My cell rings, causing me to jump. I chuck the card in my bag and dig around for my phone. Violet’s name on the screen. Sliding my finger, I quickly answer. “Ms. Vi…” The words come out as a whisper, my chest tight with emotion and hurt. My friend is gone.

  “Get back here, please. Phones are ringing off the hook.”

  No mention of Rebecca.

  “Did you hear?”

  “Yes. I’ve got a number of calls from fellow colleagues. Get back here.” Her response is curt and another slice to my already broken heart.

  When I hang up, my order is called. “Are you all right, you look as though you’re about to cry?” Tara asks, a look of concern etched over her features.

  “Oh, I’m all right. Something on the news has rattled me.” I collect, pay, and hurry out the door.

  Today can officially go to hell.

  The watching and waiting game is becoming too much. The urge, the desire to inflict pain continues to grow. I need someone and now. It took them a week to find the other girl, and I’m hungry. Hungry for more.

  I stand in the rain on the busy street amongst everyday people. To them, I’m a no one, and that’s how I like it. I catch glimpses of girls who would be perfect, but they don’t capture me. I need to be drawn to them for a specific reason. I love the weaklings, they’re the easiest to break, but not as much fun as the fighters. I want them to fight, to break and beg for me to allow them to live. I can still see the fear in their eyes, especially Rebecca’s. Oh, she pleaded every day. My heart thrums with the thrill I received pulling the trigger. Fighters, on the other hand, are marvelous contenders. It’s a fun game trying to break them into a million pieces, shattering their world wide apart, leaving them in a crumpled mess and crushing their spirit while I do so.

  Putting my cup of rich black coffee to my lips, something catches my eye. A flicker of red draws me to her. Long brown locks dangle from a high ponytail. An urge floods within me; I want to grab her ponytail and yank it. Punish her. My dark monster awakens, and the need to feed it is strong. She has something special. I watch her step out of the café across the road. The way she walks, with her back straight, and her stride full of determination. Yes, she’s the one. I will make you cry, those shimmering tears will be mine, as will your screams.

  The umbrella she clutches might save her from getting wet, but it won’t save her from me.

  Look out, precious princess.

  I’m coming for you.

  Your time is up.

  Standing in front of this nightmarish house brings back so many haunting memories. My finger automatically runs over the scar I have above my eyebrow. Every time I come here I want to bring some gasoline and matches, and burn this dump to the ground. No amount of painting and pretty flowers added to the garden will change what happened to me there, what I had to endure on a daily basis.

  “Elle…” Suzie’s hesitant voice calls out from her front door, next door to my childhood home. My eyes don’t shift from what’s before me. My fists clench in anger, my fingernails digging into the skin. No matter how many years pass, it’s never enough.

  “Sweet girl, come on. Let’s see what’s in those bags.”

  Shaking my head, I avert my eyes and look at her. Suzie was, and still is, the light in all the darkness surrounding me. Dark days used to happen every week, and the nightmares never stopped. Yesterday was a bad day. I asked to go home early because I wasn’t coping with the loss of Rebecca. Violet didn’t take it so well, but when I messed up one simple task of making Ms. Vi’s tea three times, she basically pushed me out the door. My head wasn’t in my work.

  “Sorry, Suzie. It gets me every time.” I move toward her open arms. Being wrapped in her familiar scent breaks the dam wall I held until now. She’s my support. I’d rung her last night and filled her in on what had happened. She’d cried, but I hadn’t. A small part of me wanted to, but the tears wouldn’t come.

  Sometimes Suzie calls me heartless. It doesn’t surprise me that my parents’ coldness runs in my veins—they couldn’t even show love to their own flesh and blood.

  “Shhh…” Suzie coos as though she’s soothing a newborn baby.

  “Rebecca was one of my friends, Suzie.” I hiccup, leaning back and looking into Suzie’s concerned face.

  “I know, sweet girl. Come on inside and let’s have some dinner. I’ve bought a bottle of wine we can share.” She gives me a warm smile as she holds me out at an arm’s length.

  I nod and follow her inside, my thoughts still firmly on Rebecca as I give one last glance at the house next door. Memories of being a teenager and going to school with bright, colorful bruises littering my flesh flash through my mind like a turbulent storm. No teacher ever stood up for me, never inquired about them, never cared enough to question. It made me feel pathetic, as if I was nothing.

  When I was old enough, I got as far away from this neighborhood while still being within visiting range of Suzie. She always offers to come visit, but I hate to put her out. She’s not as young as what she once was. As it is, I have to catch a train for forty-five minutes and walk another twenty.

  After we’ve served up our meals, we fall into a familiar routine, one we established when she took me in many years ago—eating dinner and chatting about everything going on. Suzie is the one person I’ve told almost everything, but there are still some things I keep closely guarded and locked away in a vault in my heart. They’re my darkest secrets.

  “How’s work going?” Suzie asks before she takes another fork full of fried rice.

  Looking up from my plate, I don’t feel very hungry. “Yeah, it’s going all right. Always busy, which is how I like it. And now everything has happened with Rebecca, some things are kind of in a mess.” I give a half-hearted smile.

  I remember when I met Rebecca on my very first day working for Violet. I was in the biggest mess—I felt so far out of my depth it wasn’t funny.

  Rebecca pulled me into her studio room, sat me down, and said, “Pull yourself together, or you’ll lose this job. Ms. Vi doesn’t take kindly to fumblers. Don’t let things get to you. Become strong. Become someone that Ms. Vi can’t live without.”

  With those solid words spoken, I quickly pulled myself together as she’d told me. I ke
pt my job and made a wonderful friend.

  “That’s good. How’s your boss treating you? You know she’s not my favorite person.” Suzie waves her fork at me.

  “I know. Sometimes she can be hard, but I enjoy being pushed—it shows her I’m prepared to do anything. Who knows? She might put me up for an internship and allow me to study journalism, and I could actually write for her magazine one day, or for a newspaper that actually has meaning.”

  Suzie narrows her eyes, as if she’s figuring the answer to a problem in her mind. “Is that what you want to do? How did I not know this?”

  I hear the hurt in her words. “Yes. Remember how you caught me stealing a notebook from the corner store?”

  “Yes.” Suzie smiles. “I brought you so many. You were always burrowing your head away, writing…”

  “Well, I decided it’s what I wanted to do. Write. Use words to help others like they helped me.”

  Her mouth hangs open a little before she speaks. “Elle, would I be able to see what you wrote back then?” She places her fork down as she waits for a reply.

  Diverting my gaze from hers, I look around the room, a room that hasn’t changed since I was fifteen. All 70s-style yellow and green furniture, covered with flowers.

  “Elle?”

  Not making eye contact with her, I respond. “They’re packed away in boxes. When I came to live with you, I kept them hidden. They’re not things I like to share around. They’re personal… to me… and about what happened to me back then.” There’s not an ounce of emotion in my voice.

  Those notebooks hold my deepest secrets. Secrets that should remain hidden. Suzie only saw a few things; she never saw what happened behind those doors at night. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I quickly take another bite of food.

  Silence falls between us, and it isn’t exactly a comfortable one. It’s as if I can hear Suzie’s thoughts ticking over in her head. I attempt to change the subject to something lighter. To try and forget the dark, even if only for a moment. Turning toward her, I say, “So, I ran into a nice guy yesterday while getting lunch.”

  Suzie sits a little straighter in her chair. “Really? Do tell me.”

  “Well, I literally ran into him.”

  A beaming smile shines from her as I continue to tell her about our encounter and how he left me his card. When I finish telling Suzie, she jumps from her seat and rushes off somewhere, only to return with the phone. “You need to ring him.” She pushes it right in front of my face.

  I’m completely lost for words. “I… I can’t do that,” I stammer. The thought of even dialing his number causes me to break out in a sweat. I do not date. Well, I’ve never dated. It’s not that I don’t want to, it’s a simple fact that I’d only embarrass myself being a klutz.

  “Yes, you can. Do it,” she urges excitedly.

  I really don’t want to call right now. It’s embarrassing. “No, I’ll do it tomorrow. Tonight, I’m here to hang with you. Let’s finish eating, and then we can watch something before I have to go home.”

  “Oh, you party pooper. You could stay the night. I don’t like the idea of you going home so late.” She says this every time I come over.

  “I’ll be all right. It’s okay.” Taking a sip of my wine, I open my mouth to speak, but I’m cut off by a phone—mine. I only need one guess to know who it is. Jumping from my chair, I race to my bag on the living room coffee table. I sigh when I see the familiar name flash on my screen.

  “Hello, Ms. Vi.” My poor attempt to sound happy doesn’t go unnoticed by her.

  “Elenore, I need you. Here. Right now. And maybe next time you answer my call, you could attempt a proper greeting.” Anger flows through the line.

  Gosh, how have I managed to put up with her? I ask myself this question at times like this, then I remember she has her good qualities as well. I’d really love her to support me studying in this industry as an intern. If she does, then with working at the magazine, and maybe the company will take care of some of my costs for the courses. One day I truly hope to make something of myself.

  Rubbing my eyes, I say, “Sorry, Ms. Vi. I’m almost an hour away. Is it something I can help you with over the phone?”

  Violet releases what sounds like a frustrated breath. “If you want to keep your job, you’ll get in here right now.”

  The line goes dead.

  Looking up, Suzie’s standing a few feet behind me with sadness in her eyes. “You can find another job, Ellie. Don’t let her treat you like this.” Her voice shakes, and I know she’s right, but I’m not a quitter.

  “It’s okay, Suzie. One day, I’ll be out from under her. It’s what assistants do—drop everything for their bosses.” I shrug.

  “No, Ellie, this isn’t normal. She’s a crazy bitch.”

  Laughter escapes me at Suzie calling Violet a bitch. “Suzie, you never swear.” I laugh.

  A small grin registers across her features. “That woman brings out the worst in me, and I don’t even work for her.”

  After saying our goodbyes, I walk back to the train station. I keep my eyes down as I pass that house of horrors. When I look up, I spot a silhouette of a person. Even though I’ve walked this road plenty of times and felt safe, knowing there’s a killer around, I dig in my bag for the pepper spray I purchased today as a precaution.

  When I get closer to the figure, he or she turns down an alley. A chill runs up my spine as I quicken my pace.

  They say every little girl has a dream. I’ve got plenty. The dream of leaving this hellish place, so I’m not being bashed all the time. Of course, the dream of becoming something much bigger than myself, something worthwhile, is my biggest dream of all.

  While I lay on a pile of old clothes, my hand moves quickly, scribbling notes in a notebook I stole from the corner store. Not being able to ask my monster parents for a few cents to help pay for anything isn’t what life should be like. I stuff another Skittle in my mouth from the packet Suzie gave me, quickly chewing and swallowing before my door is opened, and someone demands to know what that crunch was.

  My pen continues to move quickly across the page. I keep a diary… Doesn’t every girl at fifteen? It’s the only way I can release the anger that bubbles and builds up within me during my hellish days. Sometimes I feel like responding with a “Yes, Drill Sergeant,” but by doing that, I’m only asking for another bruise or body smash against the wall.

  Welcome to my life.

  Dear Diary,

  I’m alive. Today was another day. At least getting my frustrations out on paper helps. It’s all I have. Well, this and my neighbor, Suzie. She fed me today, and it was good. Mouthwatering. Of course, my stomach was basically eating itself to begin with. Suzie’s roast beef and veggies were incredible.

  Today, Suzie made me a chicken salad sandwich for lunch, and the brown paper bag I collected from her this morning had another surprise for me—a big bag of sweets. She’s more my family than anyone else.

  Mom doesn’t like me going to her place. Doesn’t want child protective services on our doorstep, I guess.

  School is my second living hell. The bitchy high-class girls and their perfect hair, perfectly pressed clothes… Gah! Makes me so angry. I hate them. At least they’re a holiday compared to my home life. Their name-calling doesn’t hurt me anymore.

  Today I decided I’m going to become something, not just the little shadow on the wall like I am in this house. I am worth so much more than what I’ve been given.

  I hate school.

  I hate my life.

  Love

  Me

  My fingers grip the pencil tightly as I write the last sentence—I hate my life. I take a few deep breaths. The dusty air causes me to cough. I grab my shirt and scrunch it over my face to mask the sounds of my coughing. The monsters don’t like to be disturbed, and any sound coming from me is an annoyance to them. I hold my breath, waiting for punishment to walk through the doors in the form of my drunken father. But nothing happens, so I exhale,
relieved.

  The need to be better, to be strong, is slowly taking hold of me. Wanting to become something more than a beaten child with no friends, or the girl who always wears the long-sleeved clothes because she’s had a blade to her wrist, or to cover the colorful bruises that she wears on her skin almost daily.

  A shuffle on the opposite side of my door startles me. No more than a second later, my door swings open, and my burly father’s large frame stands in the doorway, his bare belly protruding in front of him like a pregnant lady. On instinct, I curl up tightly in the fetal position, my breath thick as I struggle to breathe.

  “Lights out.” His voice is cold. His fat fingers flick my light off.

  My trembling hands grip my knees tighter. Fear pours through me. “Okay… Dad.” My voice trembles.

  A grunt sounds from him followed by a slam of my door. The walls around me vibrate with the force.

  Hopefully, one day, I won’t be scared anymore.

  My heart pumps faster, and my legs feel weak while I continue to power walk to the train station. Whoever was standing in the street has gone, disappeared. I clutch my pepper spray tightly in my hand, ready to use it.

  I release a puff of air. That woman, Violet frustrates me. I stomp my foot as I walk, I can’t believe she made me leave my dinner. It’s not like she hasn’t done it before, but tonight I needed Suzie. Her comfort and her familiarity help me drive away the demons that have been creeping up on me lately. Always wondering if I’m enough.

  Am I good enough?

  Why can’t I get past the past?

  It’s been three years since I laid eyes on my parents. I have to constantly remind myself that I am enough. I’m excellent at my job. My boss may think she dislikes me, even though deep down I know she appreciates me. Suzie loves me like a daughter, and I love her like a mother.

  My shoes crunch the pavement, and the sign for the train station comes into view. Releasing a breath, I quicken my pace, thankful I didn’t run into any creepers in the streets. My cell begins to ring. I pull it from my bag. Violet’s name appears on the screen again. With a heavy sigh, I close my eyes briefly and then answer.