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But I don’t care. I can’t just leave him. Whether it’s wise or not and whether he can ever truly return it or not, I love him. Besides, ever since this thing inside me switched on… this slithering dark thing that turned me from prey to predator, I’ve felt the urge to let this new beast out of its cage, but I’ve been given no real opportunity to unleash it.
People respond to the things that happen to them in different ways. Maybe everyone has a limit. I thought I’d reached mine years ago, but something changed in me after Brian brought me back, and now I no longer want to hide away from the world. I no longer want to be small and avoid the attention of those who might harm me. I want to be the thing that stalks the night. I want to be the thing the monsters are afraid of. Like Brian.
If you’d told me when I first arrived at the house that I’d want to become more like the man who ended up buying me—the most terrifying thing in this house—I would have said you needed to up your dosage.
But now… it’s different. If Matsumoto really survived, I want to be the one to kill him. I appreciate all Brian has done for me. He hunted down every last man who abused me and removed them from the world when I couldn’t do such a thing for myself.
But what about my revenge? When do I get to cause death and mayhem and destruction? When do I get to be the powerful one? I feel like a newly born vampire who hasn’t yet had her first taste of blood.
I know that first taste will be the thing that determines who I am from that point onward. For now, people at the house are a little afraid of me, a little wary. But I haven’t actually done anything yet to warrant such scurrying fear.
I want to change that.
Matsumoto wants me to come alone because I’ll be vulnerable. But I want to come alone so no one interrupts my vengeance or tries to save me—from him or from myself. I no longer fear him. I don’t know if that’s healthy. Or stupid. I don’t know if a whole giant chunk of my emotions have just shut down. But if so, I’m glad. I can’t have distractions like fear or weakness for what I’m prepared to do.
I’ve been given a beautiful opportunity to right a very big wrong and to save Brian’s ass for once. And if I tell Lindsay or any of the other owners of the house, they’ll either let Brian die, or fuck it up somehow. If that happened, I would never forgive them. And I might do something… terrible. Something I actually couldn’t live with. I only want to harm the guilty. That is the one line I don’t want to cross.
The problem is… I’m an indoor kitty.
I glance down at the metal security bracelet locked around my wrist. Officially I can walk out any door to this house and be outside in the free open air. But there’s a perimeter, and if I cross it, all I’ll get is pain until I’m back inside my electric fence like a good girl.
So I have to get this fucking bracelet off. And I need weapons, and a car. I check the postmark on the envelope. It’s two weeks old. That more or less answers the mystery of how long it may have been sitting at the post office. What happens if I miss the deadline? Will the egg be gone? I wonder how long Matsumoto would wait before he decides I’m not coming and just kills Brian.
He probably assumes he mailed the letter well in advance of his needs. He probably assumes I’ve been sitting on it for a while. I look at the postmark again. Two weeks ago Brian hadn’t left the house yet. Matsumoto mailed this before he took Brian, so how do I know he even has him?
I sigh. Because he should have been back a week ago. He told me when he’d be back. That date has come and gone, so even though Matsumoto mailed the letter before Brian left the house, he obviously does have him. He was just that confident his plan was air-tight. Which means, if I do this, I’m walking into a trap.
He couldn’t have mailed it too long before he acted, or it might have reached the house before Brian was even gone. So I can estimate about how long he’s had him.
I unfold myself from my spot on the bed and go to Brian’s big weapons stash. It’s a giant… well I’m not sure if you could call a secondary room inside basically a dungeon a “walk-in closet” but let’s just roll with that description.
When I first became Brian’s this room was just a mysterious locked door, but I should have known there were weapons inside. In the time since I’ve been back, I’ve seen him go in this room many times. And when he goes out on jobs and leaves me behind, he leaves the ring of keys in one of the dresser drawers. I’m not sure if he knows I’ve seen him put them there or not, but I open the drawer now and take out the big key ring.
I try each key in turn, unsurprised when it’s the last key that unlocks the door. You’d expect with Brian that this door wouldn’t be so low tech. Maybe a keypad with a pass code and a thumbprint and retinal scan. With as paranoid as he is, it would make sense, but, maybe just a locked door calls less attention.
If someone made it down this far into the house and was confronted with a high tech security system guarding the door, they may become even more curious about what’s on the other side.
When I get the door open and switch on the fluorescent buzzing lights, I’m confronted with what can only be described as an arsenal.
He’s got about seventeen AR-15 semi-automatic rifles in that classic sexy black. Multiple calibers. I pick up a .223 from the rack and hold it, feeling its weight, which isn’t as much as you’d expect.
Brian likes to talk a lot about weapons and torture equipment, so I’ve got way more knowledge on this subject than I would ordinarily have. I sit with him a lot outside when he cleans his guns after a job or after target practice.
The light weight of an AR is perfect for a woman. It doesn’t feel like you’re carrying too much. You can move with it. Though I doubt, Matsumoto is going to put himself at such a disadvantage that I’m going to be able to just walk in waving this kind of artillery around. Which is a shame, because I’m pretty sure I’d look like a badass doing it.
So that means… concealed. Something in a more discreet package. I open a long sleek steel drawer to find every kind of compact handgun you could imagine, as well as throwing knives, throwing stars, garden variety hunting knives.
Brian keeps all the torture stabby things in the dungeon cells so there’s none of that here, only what most would officially call weapons. In another drawer, he has actual fucking grenades. I can’t imagine the scenarios he finds himself in which require grenades. I decide not to think about that.
This whole room is a Call of Duty player’s dream stash.
I grab a large black duffle bag from the corner and start filling it with concealable weapons. Once that’s done, I scan the room for… I know there are other important things Brian keeps locked in here. Non-weapon things… like car keys… and probably the code for the bracelet on my wrist, unless he’s got it memorized. But even if memorized I’m sure he’d have a backup written down somewhere.
He’s the guy who keeps all his computer passwords written down in a notebook. The code to the bracelet is probably in that book. When I first learned he kept all his sensitive passwords in a notebook, I thought he was crazy, but his reasoning is actually sound.
If you keep your passwords in your mind, you can’t have as many different passwords as you need. And they can’t be as complicated as you need. If you keep them on some sort of password saver somewhere electronically, what if it gets hacked?
On paper, someone would have to physically break into your space. And anyone who attempts such a mission with Brian will end up riddled with bullet holes, so they can’t slip away with the intel. This reasoning seemed solid to me.
