SNATCH: A Dark Erotica (14 page)

Ryan hung the backpack on the handlebars. As if he’d done it a hundred times, he walked back to the van, opened the driver’s door and removed a pack of cigarettes and a book of matches from the glove compartment. He felt awkward lighting the cigarette, but fumbled through the process, knowing the night was close to being over. As the cigarette dangled from his lips, he puffed on it and walked to the rear of the van.

After placing the matches in his front pocket, he doused the interior of the van in gasoline and tossed the can inside the vehicle. Knowing that a cigarette alone wouldn’t ignite the fuel, Ryan removed the book of matches from his pocket and folded the paper cover of the matches around the burning cigarette, leaving the glowing tip an inch from the head of the matches.

The cigarette would burn, and within about five minutes, it would reach the match heads. The temperature of the burning cigarette would then ignite the potassium chlorate in the match heads, and cause the book of matches to combust and burn. The gasoline fumes in the fuel soaked van would explode as soon as the cigarette caused the matches to ignite.

Carefully, he placed the burning cigarette and matches in the rear of the van and closed the door.

Without much effort, he would be two miles away by the time the van exploded. As he climbed onto the bicycle and secured the backpack, he realized that he was breathing without trying, without effort. The majority of the latter part of the evening, to him, was without thought.

As Ryan pedaled the bicycle toward his home, he began to realize that he felt no remorse for the killing. For now, all he felt was a form of resolution that he attributed to making the world a better place.

And he began to wonder.

In which direction his life was headed.

CHAPTER TWENTY - TWO

MOTHER, I HAVE A QUESTION.

TWENTY-TWO.
“The bagels are multi-grain. I don’t know the difference between those and whole wheat.”

Ryan sighed as he sat down and looked out the window. “Mother, it’s simple. Whole wheat bagels are prepared using whole wheat. Multi-grain are prepared using wheat as well as grains other than wheat. Multiple grains, mother.”

“Are you pleased that I bought the cheese, Ryan?” his mother asked as she walked toward the table.

Ryan stared out the window at the flowers and smiled. His thoughts were elsewhere on this particular morning. There was no manner of living or doing that would change his past. Attempting to forget what had happened would certainly be his best step, he thought; but doing so had proven difficult at best. His knowledge of the human mind afforded him a very detailed understanding of what the future should hold in mental health. As he stared out the window, he wondered what he could become, at his best.

What he feared was also what he seemed to desire.

He gazed through the glass, realizing the agreement he made with the Japanese businessmen after his game ended in a debacle was going to be difficult to implement. His confidence in himself was slowly growing, something he valued far more than the money he would possibly earn. The longer he studied the flowers, the more convinced he became that he could pull off the new plan.

He wanted more than anything to wash his hands of all of his memories of the events that were beginning to haunt him. The memories, oddly enough, weren’t as much of the abductions and killing as they were of his father. Strangely, he felt that killing had become an option for many of life’s difficulties, and he struggled with forcing himself to think otherwise. The events associated with the abduction seemed to allow him to forget his father’s actions. Possibly, he finally decided, the killing made his father’s behavior seem miniscule.

Once the human mind crosses the boundary of killing and processes the emotion associated with it, it often becomes a future desire. Continuing to kill allows the mind to believe the severity of killing isn’t as great as it believed prior to the first killing taking place. Ryan knew this. The mind forcing the body to perform the act again, all in an effort to manipulate the brain to trust that killing was in fact not as heinous as it originally believed it to be. The result often produced serial killers and career criminals.

Ryan reached for his plate and realized that he had already eaten his entire bagel. He looked out the window and blinked, attempting to focus on the flowers. The flowers provided a level of solace that he could not find elsewhere.

“You’re not even listening, Ryan,” his mother complained.

He turned to face his mother as he spoke. It was important that he see her eyes as she responded. “Mother, I have a question.”

She grinned and widened her eyes slightly.

“How aware were you of my abuse as a child?”

Ryan looked into his mother’s eyes and waited for her to respond.

She shrugged nervously. “Well. I don’t guess I know what you’re asking.”

Ryan cleared his throat. “Mother, listen. When I was a child, father used to take me into the basement and abuse me. I have always told myself that you didn’t know. I wonder, however just what you
did
know.”

He crossed his hands in his lap and relaxed as he waited for his mother to respond.

Her eyes moved up and to the right as she began to speak. Ryan, aware that she was right handed, knew that this indicated she was telling a lie. He watched her facial expressions as she spoke.

“Ryan, your father didn’t abuse you. He took you to the basement and talked to you. He taught you important lessons. He raised you with a stern hand and your success is a result of that upbringing.” Her shaking hands quickly moved to the coffee cup.

“Mother, stripping a child of his clothes and belittling him, telling him that God did not love him and that he was worthless is abuse in a grand degree. Do you disagree?”

Ryan felt relieved to be speaking of this to his mother after all of the years that had passed.

“Your father loves you, Ryan.” She picked her cup up from the saucer and looked into it. She placed it back onto the saucer and turned to face the window. “Your father is a man of discipline, Ryan. His father was a man of discipline. You’re a very disciplined man as a result.”

She nodded in Ryan’s direction. “Like father like son,”

Ryan felt as if his body temperature was beginning to rise. He detested thinking of becoming anything like his father. Desperately, he wanted to be different, to be normal, to be responsible for his successes and to
feel
successful. His financial endeavors had proven to him that his mind’s perception of success did not lie in the form of monetary gains. It was merely a distraction and false form of satisfaction. A mask.

Desperately, he wanted to believe that his mother was not aware of what happened to him as a child. As he sat in the chair across from his mother, he began to wonder. Loyalties, devotion, love, and commitment came into question. As he turned to look out the window, he began to feel betrayed.

Ryan stood from his chair. “Mother, I am going to go now.”

He looked down at his coffee cup and crumb covered plate, exhaled, and shook his head lightly.

“I’ll tell your father you stopped…”

“Tell my father nothing,” Ryan snapped, interrupting her mid-sentence.

As he stood on the porch, he drew a shallow breath, taking in the scent of the flowers. He turned his left wrist and looked at his watch. He stepped from the porch and walked toward the flower garden enjoying the sweet aroma with each step.

As he stood amidst the flowers, he smiled. Here, and only here, he was able to lose his sense of what was real. Here, as a child, he was able to come to believe that there was a being greater than himself. Here, he was able to relax. The smell of the flowers, to him, was proof of an existence of a higher power.

As he surveyed all of the flowers, one rose stood out as exceptional. Perfect. Symmetrical.

Blood red.

Ryan reached out and carefully plucked the rose from the bush. He raised the rose to his nose, closed his eyes, and inhaled. As he opened his eyes, he turned and looked down at his watch.

And he smiled.

CHAPTER TWENTY - THREE

REMEMBER ME?

TWENTY-THREE.
The music played quietly as Meghan sat and sipped her coffee. Without thinking, she tapped her fingers on the top of the table to the beat of the music. After unsuccessfully attempting to identify the artist, she gave up and looked down at the magazine she was reading.

Ryan stepped beside the table where Meghan was seated. “It isn’t every day that you hear
Heartless Bastards
playing in a public place. Is this seat taken?”

Meghan sighed upon recognizing the voice. “It. It’s uhmm. It’s free. It’s open.” She closed her magazine and set it aside.

“I want to apologize again, and ask if you’d like to talk. If not, I understand. This is a small city, and we’ll certainly encounter one another from time-to-time, but I don’t want to cross any…” Ryan had not finished his thought before Meghan interrupted him.

“I’d love to,” Meghan blurted.

“Well, alright. I have a lot of things to say, and several to ask, Meghan. I saw you seated here as I ordered my coffee and I figured I’d see if you’d like to talk,” Ryan lied.

Ryan had watched Meghan for almost a month prior to abducting her. This coffee shop was a place that she frequented while her daughter was at school. As today was the next to the last day of school, Ryan assumed Meghan may be having a cup of morning coffee. Pleased when he noticed her SUV in the parking lot, Ryan decided to come inside and act as if their meeting was happenstance.

“Well, first and foremost, I am sorry for how things unfolded.” Ryan paused and looked toward the coffee bar.

Meghan sighed as she dropped the magazine into the container that sat beside her seat. “Let’s get past that. Truthfully, I’d really rather just forget it. Tragedy. I’m so tired of the tragedy. I believe everything happens for a reason.”

Ryan rubbed his chin and studied Meghan for a moment. Uncertain if his opinion of her changed for the right reason, he struggled with how he now felt. This was the first time they had spoken since he released her, and as he watched her and listened to her speak, he realized that he was attracted to her. The attraction made him feel uneasy. He raised his left leg, crossed it over his right knee, and placed his hands in his lap.

“Do you truly believe you’ll be able to set it aside and move on, Meghan?” Ryan asked.

Meghan shrugged her shoulders and raised her eyebrows comically. After she lowered her shoulders, she felt guilty for making light of the situation, not knowing how Ryan truly felt about what had happened.

Ryan tossed his head toward the coffee bar. “My drink is ready. Do you want anything?”

“No thank you,” Meghan responded.

Nervous, Meghan shifted in her seat. Without thinking, she raised her hands to her head and raked her fingers through her hair. As her fingers cleared her hair she shook her head, allowing it to fall onto her shoulders. As she rubbed the sweat from her palms and considered walking to the bathroom, Ryan pulled the seat away from the table and sat down.

“So, you believe everything happens for a reason?” Ryan asked.

Ryan raised his cup to his mouth and took a shallow drink.

Meghan watched Ryan’s movements intently. “I do.”

She studied Ryan’s hands as he gripped his cup of coffee, intrigued by his use of hand gestures as he spoke. She felt nervous sitting across the table from him – the kind of nervous she felt in middle school when one of her girlfriends would tell her that a boy liked her. As Ryan placed his cup on the table and raised his hand to his face, Meghan smiled.

He tapped his index finger on his upper lip and gazed far beyond Meghan as he spoke. “I’ll be candid, Meghan. I have become frustrated with life.”

Meghan sighed. “What can I do to help?”

“Well, I am not certain. I have spent my adult life measuring my success by earning money and hoarding it, so to speak. Something happened during all of
that
.” Ryan paused, still focused on the wall behind Meghan, uncertain of what to say regarding the events that tied him and Meghan together. “Things seem so different now. I have
other
concerns. I want to proceed with life. Move on. Maybe I just want to feel
clean
. I don’t know. I know this, I need a change.”

Ryan’s eyes fell from his point of focus.

He raised his hand to his chin, turned, and studied Meghan’s face.

Meghan examined Ryan’s posture, and admired his handsome looks. As he reached for his coffee, she watched his hand. Her mouth curled into a smile. As she looked back up at his face, she opened her mouth to speak and mentally struggled with her choice of subjects.

“Do you think about it?” she asked.

He nodded. “It’s
all
I think about. I am incapable of stopping. I fill my days with events and try refrain from thinking all together. And you?”

“From time to time I think about it. I don’t know, it’s probably not as bad as it could be. I try to convince myself it never happened,” she said.

She paused as she admired Ryan’s choice of clothing.

Meghan chuckled as she motioned toward him with her open hand. “I wish we had met under different circumstances, I suppose. Oh, and do you always dress like this?”

“The circumstances we met under,” he said. “They prevent us from having anything normal between us, don’t they? And yes, as a matter of fact, I always dress like this.”

Ryan had no expectation of having anything develop with Meghan, but he had hope. Desperately, now more than ever, he wanted to attempt to live a normal life. His mind filled with events and emotion that he didn’t care to think about, he waited for her to respond. Nervously, he uncrossed his legs, and crossed the right leg over his left knee.

Meghan smiled. “Actually no they don’t. I have no idea why I feel this way, and I have hoped you or someone could enlighten me. I don’t look at what happened as preventing me from
anything
with you. I imagine you’re going to tell me what’s wrong with me or why I should think differently, but I don’t.”

She raised her hands, waiting for Ryan to give her a diagnosis in supporting her feelings of desire toward him.

Ryan uncrossed his legs and sat forward in his chair, placing his hands on his knees. Excitedly, he began to speak.

“So, let me get this straight.” he paused and rubbed his hands on his thighs. “You have zero concern regarding seeing me, talking to me, or attempting to potentially develop further depth to a relationship?”

She brushed her hair from her face and folded it over her ear. “I’m not sure what you just asked me, but I’ll answer with what I
feel
. I would hang out with you and see what happened. Nothing that has occurred in the past would prevent us from proceeding with
anything
. I’m attracted to your personality and I find you extremely attractive.”

Ryan sat back in his chair and crossed his left leg over his right knee. He studied Meghan’s face, admiring her facial features and clear skin. As he watched her he began to consider all of the reasons he shouldn’t consider attempting any form of relationship with Meghan. In coming to meet her, it wasn’t his intent to attempt to develop a relationship, but to find a means of convincing himself that what happened wasn’t as bad as it seemed to be. Potentially using Meghan as a manner of resolve.

He leaned forward and grabbed his beverage from the table. As his hand formed around the cup, he realized the temperature had dropped considerably. Concerned with the passage of time, instinctively, he looked at his watch.

“Do you need to leave?” Meghan asked.

“Actually, no. I do not. I was concerned with your need to pick up your daughter,” he responded.

She glanced at the clock on the wall behind him. “Oh, not for an hour and a half.”

The thought of developing
anything
with Meghan began to interest Ryan greatly.

“I see, well let’s continue this by all means,” Ryan said.

“I have a question I have been meaning to ask. I found you on that dating site, Plenty of Fish. How can someone of your intelligence, striking good looks, and magnetic personality be single? You certainly have hundreds of potential dates from the sight, do you not?” Ryan asked.

Meghan sat forward in her seat, eager to offer her answer to him. The thought of something between her and Ryan becoming
real
began to fill her. She had no understanding for why she felt the way she felt about him, but she didn’t care to. Concerned more with
how
she felt, and not
why
she felt the way she did, she offered her explanation.

“Well, I started that about two months ago. I decided I would try and whittle the potential partners down to a select few, and when Amanda started school next year, I would go on a few dates. My desires for a partner are, well.” Meghan hesitated, feeling a little uncomfortable with what she wanted to say.

Ryan’s eyes widened. “Your desires are?”

He rubbed his palms on his knees and anxiously waited for Meghan’s response.

Meghan considered telling him the truth. She and her husband had divorced for several reasons, the primary being her sexual desires. Her former husband could say whatever he preferred to say about having a family, but she knew how things changed after she made her desires clear. She considered telling Ryan, and also contemplated lying.

Ultimately, she hoped he would understand her desires.

Her eyes fell to Ryan’s feet. “I prefer things sexually that are not normal.”

Ryan pressed his palms into his pants, attempting to dry his now uncomfortably wet hands. As he wiped his hands, he mouth formed a smile. He had yet to be with a woman sexually, and to his best recollection, had expressed this fact to Meghan. His desires, his fantasies, and his hope would be to have a woman who had sexual desires that were borderline BDSM.

The thought of sex that included bondage and light torture was very satisfying to him.

Ryan leaned into his chair, raising the front legs from the floor, and rocked the chair onto the rear legs. As the chair balanced, he smiled. His exposure to people included his mother and Ami, for the most part. There were several familiar faces throughout the city, but included primarily people he encountered at the car dealership, grocery store, and other establishments that he frequented. Having a conversation like this, to Ryan, was a tremendous pleasure. He decided to lure Meghan into a more detailed response.

Ryan chuckled. “Continue, please. Be more definitive. My sexual fantasies borderline criminal behavior.”

Immediately, Meghan felt relief. The relief was followed by desire and arousal. As she felt herself become sexually stimulated, she adjusted herself in her seat. As she moved, she became more aroused. The thought of Ryan being sexually attracted to her wants and desires formed a smile on her face. Attempting to hide her satisfaction, she lightly covered her mouth with her hand.

As she considered her response, her clit began to tingle.

“Well. I
was
married. I expressed my desires to my husband and within a year or so, we were divorced. There were other things that I am sure contributed, and maybe it’s just some weird guilt I feel, but I believe that he divorced me because he thought I was weird. Well, weird sexually,” she said.

“You didn’t answer the question,” Ryan said flatly.

Meghan wiggled in her seat, looked up at the clock, and realized she had one more hour to spare. Again, she considered telling Ryan her wildest desire. As she changed her focus from the clock to Ryan, she noticed his relaxed posture and slight smile. Her thoughts became more sexual oriented and detailed. She began to fantasize about Ryan sexually, and wanted to tell him what her thoughts included. After all, he had asked for her to respond and be truthful. She sat up in her seat, leaned forward, and cupped her hand beside her mouth. As Meghan leaned forward, Ryan lowered his chair to the floor.

“I want to be tied up, maybe handcuffed. Tied up and talked dirty to. Blindfolded, that kind of stuff,” Meghan whispered.

“During the course of sex, or just in general?” Ryan asked, intrigued.

Feeling more comfortable at Ryan’s lack of rejection, Meghan cupped both hands over her mouth, leaned closer to Ryan, and continued.

“Oh, no. Sexually, I want tied up, blindfolded, slapped around, and treated like a slut. I want rough sex.
Really
rough sex. I don’t know how rough, because I’ve never been there. But my fantasy is pretty brutal. I suppose if it ever happened I would know fairly quickly,” she whispered.

As she spoke, she became aroused.

Uncomfortable aroused.

She shifted in her seat and attempted to find comfort. Her throbbing clit and soaking wet pussy prevented complete comfort, but the annoyance was welcomed.

Ryan sat, listened, and considered Meghan’s statement. His knowledge regarding the human mind, his training in psychology, and his understanding of people allowed him to understand that some, if not all of Meghan’s desires, came from her abuse as a child at the hand of her uncle. Additionally, he knew that his desire to be controlling came from his abuse at the hand of his father. Ryan quickly realized he and Meghan’s sexual longings would be well suited for one another.