Snare (Delirious book 1) (15 page)

It’s that simple.

I drive the same monotonous route back to my house as I always do. I walk inside, undo myself of my coat, take off the pin button and place it on the table, unbutton my shirt, zip down my pants, untie my shoelaces, and strip myself of everything. Leaving everything on the floor, I walk to my bathroom. In the mirror, I stare at my naked body and the redness that covers my hands. Wearing gloves is no use; the stain went right through it.

Sighing, I open the faucet and hold my hands under the water. I love the feeling of fresh water gushing down my skin, except this time, it’s not enough to rid me of this nastiness. Grabbing a brush, I start scrubbing my nails over and over again. It hurts, but I won’t stop. Not until this filth is gone. Not until I’m whole and clean again—no stains, no spots, no nothing. Just emptiness. Clarity.

My mind is anything but clear. Voices fill my mind with clutter. Laughter. Screams. More laughter. More screaming. A woman, crying, her squeals pierce through marrow and bone. I could hear everything. I was there, witnessing it all. Never once did I stop it from happening.

I am a monster.

I lean down on the sink, not able to look myself in the eye. Bent over, naked, I stare at the water infused with blood. My darkness, my sins, doesn’t go down the drain with it. This is exactly what I loathe. The fact that, no matter what I do, I will not be able to rid myself of this evil.

In the midst of the chaos, I lose my mind. I can’t deal with this anymore—the hurting, the punishment, and the debasement. My soul has been crushed, and I’ve lost everything I once deemed good about myself.

My fist tightens around the brush, the pressure from the hairs beginning to puncture my skin. I clench my teeth. The blood that spills from my hand is a meager relief. There is nothing that can temper this anger, this rage, that boils inside me. Nothing that can change the way things have become.

Except her. That woman who bends the rules and refuses to listen. The woman who keeps coming back, no matter what. I admire her tenacity and her willingness, even though I warned her. She has changed me, and I don’t know why or how, but I can feel it. I risked everything for her just by talking to her. In this moment, against all odds, I think of her. I think about her words and her undying interest and adoration for a man who she thinks she wants. For a moment, I picture myself being just that—a man a woman like her could need and desire.

Once the pain and anger have subsided, I let go of the brush and drop it onto the tiled floor. I rake both my hands through my hair, leaning on my elbows. The razorblade lying on the sink catches my attention. Sharp blades that could cut through anything. There is one single thought that crosses my mind, and it scares me so much I can’t hold on to the sink anymore. I walk backward, away from the reflection that confronts me with horror. All I can think of is putting an end to it all. An end to me.

Instead, I step into the shower and rinse away the impurities.

This process repeats itself over and over again.

Lust. Desire. Execution. Pain. Hurt. Confusion. Death.

Regret.

Cleansing.

Rinse and repeat.

There is but one thing keeping me from exempting myself from the equation; I stopped it once.

I spared someone. I could do it again.

Meeting Room, Genesis. Providence, Rhode Island – April 27
th
, 2013, afternoon

“I’m going through these books like they’re cake,” Hubert says, sifting through the stack of books lying on the table.

“Be careful. You might sprain your ego,” Arthur says, laughing.

“Oh, fuck off. I’m having fun.”

“Takes a lot more for you to have some fun these days,” I note.

Hubert turns to face me, frowning, but doesn’t respond. He grabs a book and casually saunters back to his chair, sitting down like he’s the king of this room. “Well, at least I’m having fun. What have you been doing?”

“Reading.”

Hubert laughs. “You know that isn’t all there’s to it.”

“I’m sure he knows, Hubert. No need to remind him,” Arthur interjects. I know he’s trying to keep the peace, but I’m almost ready to just strangle the guy right here, right now. “Let’s focus on something else … Patrick, how is the book?” Arthur asks.

Everyone looks at Patrick who lifts his head from being submerged into his fantasy. He raises his thumb and continues reading. Yep, quiet as always.

“And how is your progress going, Sebastian?” Lewis asks me, mingling into the conversation.

“Good …” I clear my throat. “Not as well as I would like, but I’ll get there, eventually.”

“Oh, c’mon, cut the crap and get on with it already,” Hubert spits.

“It’s not that simple,” I snarl.

“It is.”

“You have no fucking clue.”

“How hard can it be? You’re just being sloppy now, dragging it on. Oh, no, wait.” Hubert smiles devilishly. “You’re scared. You’re going to back out?”

“Absolutely not,” Arthur says. “Enough.” He turns his head toward me. “Sebastian, you will continue with the scene.”

“I’m not ready for it.”

“Yes, you are.” Hubert’s elbow rests on his knee as he supports his chin with his knuckles, staring at me without blinking. I swallow away the lump in my throat when I spot Lewis leaning back in his chair, that same look on his face. Arthur squints, cocking his head.

A shiver runs up and down my spine.

Intimidation. The worst form of punishment follows if I do not obey.

“I’ll see if I can make it work.”

“Great. Then we can proceed as usual,” Arthur says.

“Too bad. I was hoping we could finally do something exciting,” Hubert says. He shrugs, sighing. “Whatever. He doesn’t even deserve to be here.”

“Shut it,” I say.

“Hubert, Sebastian is as much part of this club as you are.”

“Yes, and a valuable one at that, too,” Lewis adds, nodding toward me like it’s some kind of approval from his side.

“Thanks, I guess,” I say. I’m not sure what to think of all this. I never asked to be in this. I just sort of got dragged into it.

“I’m not convinced until he completes this book.”

“I’ll do it, stop worrying about it,” I reassure to ease the mood in the room. I’m tired of this.

“Right … off to the next topic: Lewis, your new book.”

“Yes! Let’s invite in our guest.” I wonder who he means. Lewis gazes at the door. “You can come in now.”

The door opens and a man steps in. He’s wearing a suit and a long, dark grey coat that almost hits the ground. Leathery gloves hide his hands as he takes off his shades. Nothing compares to his shocking scar; an X seared into the socket of his eye. A metallic fake lies in its place now. Eerie.

Who is this man? What is Lewis planning to do with him?

And more importantly; if he was here all this time, how much did he hear?

“Isn’t this against the rules?” I ask.

“Holy mother of God!” Hubert yells. “You look like you came straight out of a movie.”

The man’s face is rigid, unmoving, as is his stance. Not a single twitch in response to Hubert’s remark. Impressive.

“Normally, I would not allow outside visitors, but an exception can be made when the person in question is a hundred percent reliable and trustworthy,” Arthur says.

“How do you know?”

“Because I hired him,” Lewis says, smiling like a perverted old man.

“What’s your name, Scar?” Hubert says.

This time the man’s nostrils flare as he stares at Hubert. I’ll steer clear of inciting this man, whoever he is.

“Mr. X.”

Hubert laughs, almost hysterically. “Seriously?”

“I am here for a job. Can you confirm my payment?” Mr. X says, ignoring Hubert.

“Yes. I’ll write you a check right now,” Arthur says as he rummages in his pocket and takes out his checkbook. He writes a hundred thousand dollar check and hands it to him.

“Wow, look at you, getting a wad of cash before even lifting a finger,” Hubert taunts.

“Stop badgering him,” Lewis says. “He’s got a lot of work to do. He doesn’t have time to spend on the likes of you.”

“Oh, fuck you,” Hubert says. “Go on, then. Go have fun.” He waves at them to get out. “I’m not interested in your assignment anyway.”

Lewis gets up from his chair. “I’m too excited to wait until this meeting is over, so I’m out of here. Until next time, gentlemen.” He makes a short bow of the head, and then walks off with this so-called “Mr. X”. I don’t need him to tell me what they’re going to do; I already know.

When the door closes, Arthur returns his attention to me. “Now, Sebastian, you know it’s time for you to proceed.”

I take in a deep breath, sigh, and nod slowly, staring down at the carpet. The more I think about it, the worse the nausea becomes. My stomach feels heavy as I get up from the chair.

“Are we done?” I ask.

“Yes. As long as you can prove to me you will do it,” Arthur muses.

“I’ll have proof within the next three weeks.”

“Good,” he says as I walk to the door.

Normally, I’m the last one to leave, but I can’t stay longer. All I can think of is what I have to do, and I won’t let anything distract me from this path. These men … the books they love will be their demise. If I can’t beat them with power, I will beat them with wits.

As I walk out the room, I grab a pen lying on the desk and tuck it into my pocket unseen. This pen will become the weapon I’ll use to create the masterpiece that will make me the victor in this grand scheme. I will make it happen, no matter what. Even if it means destroying what’s left of my soul.

Accompanying song:
“The Dog is Black” by Unkle (dial:molotov remix)

Town and Country Motel. Providence, Rhode Island – April 27
th
, 2013, night

Shivering, I pull the blanket up to my chin. The cold penetrates the walls, doors, and windows of this cheap motel room. It’s not even that cold outside, but there’s very little heat. I could take another shower, but I can’t stay under there the entire night.