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He would be able to make this darkness light up, even a little bit. Having him near me was terrifying, but at least he didn’t do anything to hurt me. If anything, I was positive that his obsession over me wouldn’t allow him to see me in actual pain.
It was silent for around ten, maybe fifteen minutes, when I heard screams.
Immediately, I sat up straight, struggling to throw the heavy blanket off my body. I wasn’t sure if it was Steven’s scream, or Richard’s. Their voices were similar, but whoever it was — they were terrified.
Then, a gunshot followed.
Another one.
My heart raced against my chest, my breathing slow. Silently, I approached the door, placing my ear on it, to hear better.
All I heard were heavy footsteps, before another round of bullets was fired.
The gasp that slipped my lips was loud and I never saw it coming. Quickly, I placed my trembling hand on my mouth, to prevent a cry from sneaking out.
‘‘Come out, come out, wherever you are, Bambi.’’
I froze, but that stance didn’t last long. Soon enough, I found myself relaxing, but unable to leave the room.
His singing voice was taunting me. He came for me. He shot at the three men, and I was afraid of what I’d find on the outside. A pool of blood? Or perhaps, he wasn’t insane enough to kill them since the place was covered in security cameras?
‘‘I know you’re here somewhere, love,’’ he chanted, then laughed.
‘‘Please, don’t kill me,’’ it was Jack. His voice trembled, genuine fear traced his tongue. The poor man must be terrified.
I swallowed harshly a knot that had formed in my throat, opened the door and walked out.
I took a step back.
Broken glass was on the tiled floor, fluid spread across the room. Some of the food was entirely destroyed, the TV had bullet holes, broken things were everywhere. But that wasn’t unexpected, given how many shots he’d fired.
What made me ill to my stomach was the blood.
With the unknown strength I managed to muster, I took a few steps forward, until I could see it clearly.
Steven and Richard lay on the floor, in a pool of their blood. With each passing moment, the blood spread, until it reached my feet that had nothing but thick socks on.
I lifted my eyes, feeling tears roll down my cheek.
Micah stood a few feet away from me, holding Jack at gunpoint. The barrel was firmly pressed against the older man's temple. Jack was whimpering, but his eyes were blank.
He just witnessed his children dying. It was denial. The longer he stared at their lifeless bodies, the less he was connected to reality. His brows creased, bottom lip trembled and it was something that he would never be able to get over.
I sifted my gaze from the terrified man to the Terror of the Night — and it made my heart almost jump out of my chest. That antagonizing gaze promised trouble. He wasn’t looking at my face — his eyes were glued to my body, or, well, the clothes I had on.
‘‘Very brave of you to wear clothes that belong to other men, Bambi,’’ he spoke through gritted teeth.
One of his hands was on the gun that only seemed to be pressed against Jack’s temple further, while the other one had a tight grip on the older man’s neck, preventing him from moving so much as an inch.
‘‘Please, let him go,’’ I whispered.
I couldn’t find my voice. I couldn’t find the strength to yell out, to scream, to help Jack in any way. All I could do was stand there, motionless, much like Richard and Steven lay on the floor, and pray that he would release him.
‘‘Let him go?’’ Micah repeated, but the question was rhetorical.
His brows creased for a moment, as if he was confused, baffled even, that I’d suggest such a thing. He acted as if I’d asked him to launch a nuclear bomb that would destroy the world, not to let an innocent man go.
‘‘This is nothing personal,’’ Micah spoke. Despite having his eyes on me, he was not speaking to me. ‘‘But you dared to touch something that’s mine and I don’t like that.’’
