Page 18 of Sinful Lord

When she disappeared down a seedy alleyway, I almost hoped that she’d found a studio to paint in. But when she stayed hidden for almost nine hours straight and then came out the other side with a booze-soaked shirt and an even heavier head than before, I knew she wasn’t making art.

She had a job.

Imagine that. What kind of spoiled princess gets a job, let alone one like that? Hell, what kind of self-respecting artist?

Well, when I’m through with her, she won’t have to work anymore. And she’ll be able to paint to her heart’s desire.

In fact, I’ll insist she does.

Biting my bottom lip, I imagine stripping Melina down to her bare nothings and sitting her in front of a canvas. I think of how badly I want to dot my fingers in paint and cover her body, all while she does the same to me; how I want to knock over that canvas and take her on it; sully it with my corrupted desire. Sully her.

“Soon…”

I put one more camera behind a bedside lampshade, then another in the cracks between two kitchen cupboards.

Then I reward myself with a single, red-laced strap of lingerie from Melina’s drawer. It twirls between my fingers as I turn off the lights and plop down on the old, ratty sitting chair across from the window.

I check my phone and smile.

She’ll be walking in through that door any minute now. Hopefully, she’s not too opposed to my presence.

I’m the one who helped her escape, after all. She should be thankful.

Sinking into the chair, I remember the poem I wrote to her on the back of that painting. The one I painstakingly drew with a mixture of invisible ink and my own blood.

Your artwork is beautiful,

And so are you.

If you want to be free,

Then I can show you what to do.

At the far end of your studio,

Beneath the very last light,

There’s an escape hatch you can use,

To take your very first flight.

Yours truly,

The shadow.

Not my best work, but it clearly did the job. I’ll have to ask what she thought of it.

Strangely, my heart thumps at the idea. Are those nerves?

Shit. It’s been a long time since I got nervous. It’s almost… nice, to feel something other than hurt and anger, and emptiness.

Making a fist with Melina’s panties, I lean on my chin and stare towards the door.

“Come to daddy…”

The longer I wait, the more restless I become. Time stretches on in this cold empty apartment. I look over my shoulder. White snowflakes softly fall outside the window.

A chill runs under my skin.