Page 56 of Burn For Me

“I don’t understand what you want, Derek. The girl is alive. Go. Run away and be with her. You don’t need to kill me.”

I hung my head in disbelief. It was like trying to explain logic to someone while bashing my head against a brick wall.

“Do you really think that I’m doing this just because of Adalyn? You’re not just a sadist, you’re an idiot. Not a great combination.” I stood in a rush, and Dr. Wallace pushed himself back into the large chair. “Here’s the deal. I’m going to give you a choice of whether you die and do so as a solo performance, or whether you live, which will invite more actors to the stage.”

Gripping the back of the wooden chair, I gave it a squeeze, the wood whining from my fingers digging in. It was either the chair or his throat, and I didn’t want to kill him just yet.

“I don’t know what that means.”

“The house is going to go up in flames no matter what you do in—,” I said, looking at my watch, “half an hour, give or take a few minutes. The question is whether you die or your family dies.” Dr. Wallace didn’t say anything further, and I didn’t blame him. I wouldn’t either if the roles were reversed. “But first, let’s make sure we are saving this for prosperity.”

I pulled the cellphone out of my pocket and turned on the video app before making my way around the chair and holding the thing, so the screen clearly showed Dr. Wallace’s face but nothing more than my arm.

“What are you doing?”

“Don’t be so impatient.” I hit the voice distortion option I’d downloaded and pressed record. “Ladies, this video is for you. Will your husband and father choose your lives over his own? I don’t know. The suspense is killing me. We should ask.” I turned to look at the side of the doctor’s head as he stared straight into the camera like a deer caught in headlights.

“So, Dr. Wallace, here are your choices. Option A is for you to live. You can run off with your new baby mama and have a happily ever after with your new woman, but if you choose option A with the new woman, then I’ll hunt down and kill your wife and daughter. Sorry ladies, but someone has to pay for Dr. Wallace’s naughty behavior. Now Doctor, if you choose option B, then you will die here in this house, but your family and new baby mama will remain safe. I’ll never go near them, as your debt will be paid in full. Here is the twist to option B. If you choose to stay, then you will have to detonate the house yourself. You will have to kill yourself.”

I paused to let the information filter into his pathetic brain.

“Your beautiful daughter doesn’t have to die, nor the wife that has loved you all these years that you have treated so poorly—this is your chance to prove that you really did love her more than the ass that you accidentally knocked up. So, Doctor, this is the moment of truth. What is the verdict? Which option will you choose?”

It was total bullshit. The house was going to go up in flames with him inside no matter what, but I wanted him to think there was a choice. It was part of the game, part of the fun, part of the emotional turmoil I planned on putting him through before the fire ate away his life.

“Don’t make me do this, please, I’m begging you,” he pleaded.

“Doctor, this is a straightforward yes or no question. Did you stop torturing any of your patients when they begged? When they pleaded for you to help them rather than hurt them?” Dr. Wallace swallowed, and the sound was audible. “I’m waiting for an answer, Doctor.”

“No, I didn’t.” Tears rolled down his cheeks, and he removed his glasses to wipe away the crocodile tears. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry for so much.”

“This is not a confessional, Doctor, this is your sentencing for all of the pain you’ve caused your family and patients all these years while you smiled with your friends and ate fancy food. It’s payment for your part in creating monster after monster while you fucked pretty girls and played golf with colleagues. So let’s get on with it, shall we? Option A—run away with your baby mama, or option B—die, but save your wife and daughter? Tick, tock.”

The man looked away, and I knew which he’d choose. He was a weak man and an even weaker soul that would sacrifice his own mother to save his skin. Then again, I killed my own mother, so that wasn’t a great comparison.

As the seconds ticked on, my patience crumbled.

“Choose,” I screamed, and the doctor jumped in his seat and cowered into the corner of the chair.

“A,” he whispered with his head lowered.

“I didn’t hear you, and neither did your family. Again, and louder this time.”

As the doctor glared at me as he lifted his head, the evil that was squirreled away in the recesses of his brain stared out at me.

“I choose option A.” He looked at the camera. “I choose A.”

“Sorry ladies, I guess we know how much he really loved you, and it’s not very much.” I turned the video recorder off and stood up straight. Stuffing the phone into my pocket, I smiled. “Thanks for that. It’s going to make this next part so much sweeter.”

“What are you….”

The crack from delivering the punch to his face was like a miniature explosion in the silence of the room. The doctor’s head snapped back and to the side as he was knocked out cold. I’d already prepped all the ropes, and after kneeling down, I slid them out from under the chair and wrapped them in place, each one rendering the doctor more useless. Gripping his hands, I tied them together and then weaved a longer strand between them, wrapping it around to the back of the chair where it could be secured with a knot. That way, the fucker couldn’t wiggle out like Houdini, or at least not too quickly. I smirked, knowing full well he was going to try.

I finished tying the last rope into place and turned the man’s chair around so that he had to stare at the large family portrait on the wall. Pulling the packet of smelling salts from my pocket, I held it under his nose, and his eyes snapped open.

“What the hell?” He shook his head. “Ow, fuck.” Dr. Wallace went to shift in the seat and only then realized he was tied. I loved watching the recognition of his predicament register in his brain. His breathing became loud as the panic set in. “What is this? You said you’d let me go if I chose.”

“I did, didn’t I.” Turning to jog up the stairs, I snickered as Dr. Wallace yelled for help. In the bedroom, I ruffled through all his drawers and pulled everything out, tossing anything worth money into the duffel bag. Jewelry and cash were the big things, but anything small that I thought could bring in a dollar I took. Pulling out a cigar box, I found a fancy Rolex and gold cufflinks, as well as a grand in cash.