Page 36 of Cain
I’d like to know if his door locks every night, too.
During the day, I spent a lot of time contemplating. I wonder if he belongs to the occult, or if he’s a Satanist and sacrifices people to Satan. Would it be so obvious? Then why did he try to help me get through the panic attack last night?
My mind is going to explode.
Having the knife I stole close to me makes me feel safer. However, I have no idea what I’d do if someoneattacked me. I hate violence, but I have to survive. I have to get out and go to Emily. She must be terrified and so worried. I wish I could at least inform her.
It’s almost night, and I’m bored to death in this bedroom. I came out only to eat lunch because I was starving. However, I didn’t talk much to Eleanor. I sneaked back into my room, wishing I wouldn’t meet him or any of his men. And that Landon and Bruce … they’re such creeps.
I’m wondering what time it is now. Will he be back yet?
I need to go out and take a walk for a while. Maybe I’ll see something, perhaps a clue, or maybe I find someone not so creepy that I can talk to.
Screw it, I’ll go out …
I hesitantly exit my room and wander around, keeping the knife in the hem of my jeans, underneath my shirt, just as I did the previous time.
Gosh, this place looks so spacious, yet vacant, with only the necessary items. It’s primarily black with a modern and classy touch—all of it except for the bedroom I stay in.
I walk and walk until I find myself in a maze-like corridor I haven’t explored before. Eventually, I reach the living room, and of course, it’s massive, just like the rest of the place. Large balcony doors line the room, replacing walls, but the shutters are completely closed. I suppose that’s the intention, so that I won’t try anything.
Around the room, at least five vases loaded with red roses fill the air with their beautiful fragrance.
In the corner, there’s a big black piano. I’m sure it’s there just for decoration. Nice touch, though.
In the middle of the only wall in the room, there’s a massive fireplace, its flames crackling softly. Someone must be tending to it, yet the place feels deserted.
I have always loved fireplaces. I never had one in any of the houses I’ve lived in, and I always wondered if they have a calming effect on the people around them. Involuntarily, I step closer to it and sit on the black couch so its heat can reach me.
It’s so peaceful. Listening to the flames, and only the flames, is something I never thought could bring such peace.
A slow, calculated walk breaks the absolute stillness of the room, a prowl, I’d say, that makes my skin crawl. It’s so quiet and measured, like a cat silently stalking me.
“Look who decided to sneak out of her nest.”
It’s him.
I gulp as my breathing becomes more forceful. He’s already affecting me.
Slowly, I raise my eyes and look at him. He seems so calm and easygoing, one hand in his slacks pocket and the other holding a glass of scotch. He is … shirtless.
Why is he walking around his huge mansion like that?
Immediately, my body stiffens. I can feel it, and I’m sure it’s obvious. I don’t talk. I have nothing good to say.
“Enjoying the fire?” he asks again, taking a sip of his whiskey. I hate whiskey. I hate its smell almost more than the smell of cigarettes.
“Did you bury the body?” I scoff.
“No.” He smiles brightly yet softly. “My men did.” He sips his whiskey. “I buried his head.”
“You’re sick!”
He hums with a soft smile. Unbothered, he walks up to the small round glass table that holds a bottle of whiskey and another glass. He pours some and walks back to me, offering me the glass.
I shake my head.
“Take it, little rose. You’re too tense again.” His voice is calm and gentle. I gaze back into his olive-tinted eyes and hesitate for a bit. “Join me for a drink,” he insists.
