Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 86597 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86597 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Nico nods. “That’s an option. Until I find out, it’s not safe for you out there, and… I can’t give you the choice, Blake. I don’t kidnap people, I don’t murder innocents, even if you don’t believe me. But I’m not going to prison either. You were an unfortunate witness. We will figure something out eventually.”
I swallow, pumped out. “How is this happening to me?” I mutter. “I did nothing.”
Nico scowls and spreads his arms. “And me? I only do good deeds! This guy was my perfect target, an early Christmas treat, and instead, I’m stuck with you!”
I glare at him, too tired to be afraid of someone who clearly doesn’t plan to kill me. “‘Christmas treat’? All this time, I thought you were killing people around Christmas to mock the whole fake cheer atmosphere.”
His eyes meet mine, filling with the frustration of a declawed cat. “No! It’s my Christmas gift! To the community! Why don’t people understand?”
“Because in all but four cases since the 1910s murder, the victim was just a regular innocent person.”
“They were not,” Nico insists and pokes his pile of folders again.
I sigh. “Well, you say that, but neither the media, nor the police have the same information as you. How come?”
I tell myself that I’m willing to keep up the conversation to endear myself to him, so he doesn’t just leave me alone for another day, but in truth, I’m itching to find out more. I want to get my hands on those folders filled with crimes even the police databases don’t have.
“A lot of my intel isn’t obtained legally. I…” Nico glances at the broken chair, then sits on the small craft table with his arms crossed. “I install Christmas lights and decorations in many big houses. And while I do that, I’ll often plant a camera here and there. Like Santa, I watch over the community, and sometimes, I find a very, very naughty person. If I have a confirmed kill, they’re fair game to me.”
A shiver runs down my spine when I imagine him watching me from afar, checking the hidden camera once in a while. Would he watch me get undressed or pleasure myself?
Something I definitely shouldn’t imagine.
I clear my throat. “You said your grandfather was the Christmas Killer before you. Was he also killing… naughty people?”
Nico runs his fingers through his hair, and I wince when I notice blood in it even though I shouldn’t feel sorry for him at all. “He showed me the ropes but didn’t let me kill anyone until I was twenty. Kinda arbitrary, if you ask me, but I followed his rules, and I still do. He killed very rarely, only a few times, really. His first was a guy who kept beating his wife. In those times, it was very hard to prove or prosecute that kind of crime. In the end, Grandpa lost his patience and killed the fucker, then decided to stage it as a Christmas Killer thing, since it was in late December, and the memory of the serial killer from the beginning of the past century was still fresh. We don’t know who that original murderer was, though.”
“He’s long dead anyway,” I fill in and nod, regarding Nico in a new light. “So… your grandfather was a vigilante, and you… like killing but only kill bad people?”
He hesitates with the answer. Maybe he knows how fucked up it is.
“It… sates my appetite. Judge me if you want. I don’t care.”
I don’t like how defensive he is. The wall between us is high despite us sharing secrets.
I rub my face and hug the bars, watching him in pensive silence. “Look, I’m sorry I hurt you, okay? But imagine yourself in my shoes. What would you have done?”
Nico groans. “I wouldn’t have ran. I would have used your moment of confusion to cut your throat with a piece of the broken cup.”
He’s either trying to provoke me or show his claws, and I don’t like either. Talking to him reminds me of the many interviews with psychopaths I’ve seen.
I blink, touching my neck as if it were already bleeding. He’s so intense, and I don’t know if it scares or arouses me, which is bad in itself. “I don’t want you dead.”
Nico squints. “I think you do. I think you’re lying. Are you even gay?”
No. I’m just really into psychos who keep me in a dungeon, my mind offers. But if I am to ever leave this basement, I need to use any advantage I have.
I press my cheek to the cold bar. “I’m not like you. I don’t want anyone dead. And yes, I am most definitely gay.” When he doesn’t stop his accusatory glances, I exhale and continue despite my throat borderline closing. “And yes, I planned to distract you in the shower, but that doesn’t mean I disliked touching you. It’s just… complicated.”