Page 14 of Wicked Winter Night
I walk to the top of the stairs, stopping to listen. Silence. Taking a few steps down, I repeat the process until I’ve made it all the way down the stairs. The cabin is empty from what I can see, but the front door is wide open, letting in the cold from outside. Gusts of wind blow snow into the house, and I rush to close it. I peek out the window, but due to the storm and how dark it is, I can’t see anything. I drag the couch toward the front door, barricading myself in. I double-check all the windows and the back door before I run upstairs and barricade myself in my room again. If anyone comes in, at least I’ll hear them trying to get into the house.
Once everything is in place, I change into pajamas and get into bed, keeping a pair of shoes right next to the edge in case I need to throw them on quickly and run. I’ll file a police report on Liam the second I’m able to. After about an hour without hearing any commotion, my brain finally relaxes, and I drift off into a sleep I hope is peaceful. After all, it is Christmas tomorrow.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
I’m getting antsy, pacing the safehouse back and forth. The police did their search, only doing a basic check in the treeline. If there’s anything to note about the local law enforcement here, it’s that they’re pretty subpar. There’s not much crime that happens here, and the station is pretty typical for a super small town. About a handful occupy its department, and they’re mostly checked out, just punching in the clock in order to headhome with a paycheck. There’s another storm coming tonight. I checked the weather when I arrived. They’ll be leaving soon to make it back before it hits; otherwise, she’d be sharing the cabin with two officers, and that just simply wouldn’t fly with me.
At that thought, both officers exit the cabin and make their way to their patrol car. I’ve been watching the camera feed from the game cameras surrounding the entire cabin since I got back. There’s even one with a clear shot of her front door. Perfect. I’ll give it one more hour, let her calm down from the police presence, make it seem like I’m not coming back, and also make sure they’re not going to come right back to the cabin, before I make my way there.
The hour passes by agonizingly slowly. I almost gave up a few times, but I held my ground. I want her to think she’s safe before I devour the sweet fear that will radiate from her when she realizes she can’t escape me. Just as I go to close my laptop, a car pulls up and parks in front of the cabin. I pause, watching a man slowly get out and shut the door. He strides up to the door angrily and bangs. Shit. That must be Liam.
I grab last-minute items from the safehouse’s medical kit and head out. It’s going to take me twice as long to get there as it did to get here earlier. While the major storm hasn’t hit yet, the snow has been falling consistently over the last few hours. It’s going to make moving on foot a lot harder. If that piece of shit even dares to lay a finger on her, I’ll remove each one slowly and painfully.
Opening the door, I head out into the cold, winter night. I sense a bit of wickedness in the air, and I grin at the thought of a gift awaiting me at my arrival. I don’t have to seek him out anymore. He brought himself right to me. What a Christmasmiracle. My grin widens, thinking about all the torturous things I’m gonna do to him for what he did to those girls.
The snow is thick on the ground, and I’m having to really hike my legs to move quickly. It’s dark, but I know my way through these woods. This safe house is a favorite of mine, so I’m acquainted with its surroundings. Wolves howl in the distance, igniting the forest with a beautiful song that echoes off the trees. They’re out hunting just as I am.
The cabin grows near, smoke billowing from the chimney. I get about 500 feet from the door when ear-piercing screams reach my ears. I sprint the rest of the way, throwing open the front door only to hear pounding upstairs. Liam bangs on the door, yelling for her to let him in, and she yells back, basically telling him where to shove it. Her voice sounds like she’s ready to go to war, but there’s also fear there. And no one is allowed to make my little dove scared but me.
I grab the syringe from my back pocket and take the stairs two at a time. Liam doesn’t have time to register my presence as he attempts to yell one last time before his words are cut off by the needle I’ve just stabbed in his neck. He grabs the injection site, eyes widening as he takes in my much taller form, and he stumbles backward before falling to the ground. I pick him up and throw him over my shoulder, debating where to take him next. I’m having to pivot from my plan with his presence. Tonight was supposed to just be a fun night with my little dove. I won’t be able to take him back to the safehouse. It’s too far, and I won’t be able to make it back with the storm coming. So, I take him to the only place I can think of on short notice.
The basement.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The basement is dark, and if I could feel anything, I’m sure it would be cold. Water leaks from the pipes snaked through the ceiling, and cobwebs decorate every nook and cranny this space has to offer. Other than the washer and dryer being located down here, there's not much else. A workbench lines the outer wall, which runs into the staircase that leads up to the stormdoor and outside. Opposite the wall with the workbench, a chair is leaning against a pillar. Perfect.
I throw Liam on top of the chair and rummage around the workbench until I find what I need—rope to tie him up with, a rag, and some duct tape to keep his mouth closed. This basement isn’t soundproof. I can’t have Ella waking up and coming down here. I get to work, tying him to the chair and the chair to the pillar. Then, I open his mouth and shove the rag in it, taping over it with a piece of duct tape. If he screams, they’ll be muffled enough for Ella not to hear. I plan to have him just listen for now. He can do the talking tomorrow when Ella is awake. I can’t have my little dove missing out on all the fun.
At that thought, he begins to stir. His head lolls from side to side, his eyelids slowly fluttering open. He groans, coughing a little, and then reality begins to set in almost immediately as he begins to thrash. His eyes widen, and then bolt across the room until they land on me. His eyes narrow, and he stops thrashing, muttering something I can’t understand through the rag.
“Good. You’re awake,” I say, walking over to a second chair in the corner of the room. I grab it and bring it back over to where Liam sits. I flip the chair to face me and sit, leaning forward onto the wooden back and resting my chin on my folded arms.
“We’re gonna have so much fun,” I taunt, grinning. “Well, I’m gonna have fun. I’m not sure how much fun it’s going to be for you. But I have one last thing I need to tend to before we get started.” I stand, pulling another syringe from my back pocket. “I’m afraid it’s lights out again for you. Can’t have you trying to escape while I’m gone or making too much noise. But don’t worry, I’ll be seeing you soon.”
He screams more muffled screams before I jab the needle into his neck and inject the sedative. He lets out a few more grunts before his head lolls to the side again. Good. I need to hurry before the storm gets too bad, which, by the weatherreport, is in the next hour. I head back up the stairs from the basement, closing the door behind me before I quickly and quietly move the couch blocking the door and exit the cabin, jogging into the woods. I look back, noticing that Ella’s bedroom light is out. Good. Hopefully she stays asleep. I can’t wait to see the look of surprise when I give her her gift tomorrow. I turn back and run into the woods.
The snow falls heavily onto the forest floor, and I know my time is running out, but I push forward. I’m full-on sprinting as much as I can, hitting areas where the brush is so dense on top that there isn’t much snow on the floor, so I’m able to pick up speed. Wolves howl in the distance, and the owls sound off in the trees. Suddenly, I’ve found what I came for. The tree Ella was dragging still lies on the ground, intact and covered in a bit of snow. I grab it by the rope still attached and begin pulling it without wasting time. It’s heavy, but I’ve pulled heavier. All the time spent lifting and tossing bodies over things makes this feel like light work.
Left, right, left, right, left, right,I tell myself over and over.Keep moving.Your woman wants this tree.Something in my heart constricts at that, though.My woman. For a second, it’s almost like I can feel a slight chill dance across my skin, but it’s gone just as quick as it came.
The snow begins pouring from the sky, and I grab the tree, finding its center, and I lift it to balance it on my shoulder. The tree line is just ahead, the lights on the cabin porch illuminating my way like a beacon. I take every last bit of strength I can muster and pick up speed, sprinting the remainder of the way until I’m at the front door. Slowly, I open it, balancing the tree through the frame before lowering it quietly to the ground and closing the door.
I look around, looking for the perfect spot to place it. Bingo. Next to the fireplace is a little area free from furniture and otheritems. There are a few boxes lying to the side labeled ‘Xmas Decor/ Fragile’, so I quietly search them until I find what I need. Taking the tree stand, I put it together, placing it in the spot I need before grabbing the tree from the floor and sliding it in, securing the three hook screws on the sides. The tree takes up just the right amount of space, and I get to work, taking the decorations out one by one to put them on it. Thankfully, the lights we used seem to have made their way back downstairs, so I take them and string them around the tree, strategically placing them to leave no part of the tree unlit.
Red and silver tinsel spills out of one of the boxes, so I add it to the tree, making sure not to cover the lights. Next, I do the ornaments, and what I find makes me… smile. Several boxes are filled with homemade ornaments, all depicting different art pieces created by Ella and her family over the years. There are footprints designed to look like reindeer, red and white pipe cleaners in the shape of candy canes, and different photos stuck to art pieces, all reflecting different ages. There are only a few regular ornaments, so I go ahead and add them all to the branches. The tree feels like what I’d imagine a family feels like—warm and loving. I wouldn’t know. My parents were drug addicts most of my life, and I was in and out of foster care until I turned eighteen. I put all my effort into school, got a job, and then met Laura. It honestly feels like a different life now, thinking back on it, and I find myself paused mid-ornament hang, staring at my reflection in the red ball. Pushing those memories aside, I finish decorating. I haven’t done this since Laura died, and it feels… nice. Domestic.
Once all of the ornaments are placed on the branches, there’s only one thing left to do. At the bottom of the box lies an angel. Its white dress is tinted yellow from years stuffed into a box, its wings a little out of control, but I fix it up nicely and grab a chair, dragging it next to the tree. I stand on it and reach, setting theangel right on top. When I’m satisfied the tree is perfect enough for my little dove, I plug it in, and it lights up the room with twinkling lights. It’s perfect.
Now that that is done, I pick up the area a bit and head down to the basement, but I pause when an idea pops into my mind. I pivot, heading back to the tree and grabbing two of the red ornaments, bringing them with me. It’s about 3:30am, and I figure I have a few hours to kill before Ella wakes up. My body is thrumming with anticipation for the events to come, and I need to release some of this tension.
“Welcome back,” I taunt, making eye contact with Liam as I hit the final step. His eyes bore into me, as though he is thinking about all the ways he could kill me. I grin, and he shouts muffled bullshit at me. “You now have my full attention. I just needed to do something for my woman. You understand.”
His eyes narrow on me at the ‘my woman’ part, and I chuckle. “Man, the way she was gripping my cock earlier was pure heaven. It was like she was made forme.” He thrashes in his chair, screaming, the blood rushing to his face and becoming red with intense anger. Before he has a second to register, I’m on him, giving him a straight jab to the nose and relishing the way it gives under my fist, the cracking of it like a bolt of lightning in this quiet space. His eyes widen, and his screams turn from those of anger to those of pain. Blood gushes from his nose, coating his shirt.
“That was for scaring my little dove earlier,” I state, moving to the workbench. I grab a few nails and a hammer and slowly make my way back to him, twirling the hammer in one hand and whistling the tune of It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year. He stills, eyes dilating with fear. It smells delectable.
“Does Ella know about your past?” I taunt, and he pales. He shakes his head no.