Page 42 of The Butterfly Killer

Marcus stayed as still as he could. His eyes met Roman's for a brief second and then Roman was darting behind the curtain. He knocked over things, glass shattered, and he was cursing under his breath as he seemed to search for something.

Then, it was calm. It was like after a storm except Marcus didn't feel like this was end of it. This felt like something more destructive was brewing on the horizon.

Roman lifted the curtain. He was calmer now though he didn't look better. There was an almost frantic look in his eyes. It was as if he was ready for something to happen, on edge, but he didn't know when it was going to happen. His anxiety transferred to Marcus. He felt on edge for something he didn't know he needed to be prepared for.

But Roman walked into the room as if he hadn't been on the verge of a panic attack.

His eyes spotted his book on the box. He grabbed it. "Are you hungry now?"

Marcus turned his gaze to the other side of the room.

"The silent treatment? Really?" Roman sat in the chair next to the bed. He kicked his feet up onto the mattress, too close to Marcus's feet.

Marcus resisted the urge to pull his feet away. His jaw clenched as the stared at the kitchen though he really wasn't looking at it.

Roman sighed. "Alright. Have it your way. But I'm sure you're going to get really bored after awhile."

"Have you?"

He regretted saying anything the second he did. A small smile broke out on Roman's lips.

"I'm used to it. The first few weeks of isolation are the worst. Be thankful you have me around."

Marcus scoffed. "Thankful? I'd kill you before I even thought about thanking you."

He glared at Roman. Roman held his book up to his face and tapped the corner to his chin. His eyes roamed Marcus's face which made Marcus's cheeks warm.

"What?" He wanted to snatch the book and rip it in half. Anything to hurt Roman even how petty it was.

Roman tossed his book onto his desk behind the curtain. He strode to the cabinets in the kitchen. He squatted in front of one and rustled through it. He pulled out a red box and brought it back to the bed. He tossed it next to Marcus so he could see the front clearly.

Though the cover image was faded with age, the dice on the front made it quite obvious what it was.

Marcus looked up at Roman with disbelief. He didn't know if the man was being serious or not.

Roman ignored the strange look Marcus gave him. He sat back down as if nothing was wrong and that it wasn't strange that a serial killer wanted to play a board game with his kidnap victim.

"This will help, I promise," Roman said. To his credit, he did sound sincere. Which only made Marcus more on guard.

He lifted the box and revealed a crumbled pad of paper, five dice, and a handful of pencils of carious colors and sizes. Roman picked up the short blue pencil without a thought. He pulled out the pad of paper and the dice as well.

He held out the box of pencil to Marcus and gave little nod. Marcus didn't move a fraction. When it became apparent he wasn't going to take one, Roman picked out the red one and pushed it into Marcus's fist.

Marcus snatched his hand back so hard he almost fell off the other side of the bed. The red pencil fell on the sheets between them.

Roman acted like nothing happened. He tore a sheet from the pad and tossed the pad on Marcus's lap. Marcus flinched as the pad of paper hit his thigh. The little jerk sent pain up his leg, reminding him he was currently hurt.

Roman noticed the flinch.

"Sorry," he murmured but left it at that.

He wasn't sorry. He didn't care that Marcus was hurt. He didn't give a shit about anyone.

Marcus grabbed the red pencil with a tightly clenched fist.

Roman wrote his name on his piece of paper, using the lid of the box as a surface. "Don't think about it."

Marcus didn't know what Roman was talking about until he realized he could use the pencil as a weapon. He hadn't been thinking about it but now he was.

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