I open my eyes.

Not even a moment later, pain wracks my entire being.

The world around me is a hazy mess. It’s hard to distinguish any of the distorted shapes flashing before my eyes due to the pain. It’s dark, I can tell that much, though I don’t know exactly where I am.

All I know for sure is that I’m alive.

Gaps in my memory make it hard to remember precisely what is happening. I haven’t felt this mentally distorted since coming into this world as an infant.

Gods…

After regaining some composure, I try to move my arms.

Something thick binds them together.

Am I tied to a chair?

A gag in my mouth prevents me from breathing properly or shouting. Worst of all, it’s cold. Cold because I don’t think I’m wearing any clothes, and this chair has a hole in the bottom for some reason which creates an updraft. My bottom slips into it as the circumference painfully chafes my skin.

Panic sets in as my mind resets and realization seizes my heart.

My struggles against the ropes increase. I can no longer control my breathing as regularly. The gag feels heavy. Restrictive. I try to move the chair, but it won’t budge. The damned thing is bolted into the floor.

Okayokayokayokayokayokayokayokayokayokayokayokay!!!

Hahahahahahahahahaha!

I fucked up.

Oh, I fucked up.

I fucked up so bad.

Holy shit, I fucked up!

Resisting the urge to cry, I try taking in my surroundings again for any hope of escape. My pupils adjust slightly, enough to recognize that I’m locked in a room. Based on the types of materials and the smell of the place, it has to be a basement. I see shelves, tables, some leaking water, and a crappy-looking staircase, but nothing else of note. Everything looks old. If I had to guess, I’m in an abandoned house somewhere.

Okay.

That’s something.

It doesn’t help the situation, though!

The killer caught me. I’m at his whim. He’s stripped me naked and tied me to a chair. Shit, shit, shit!

I thought I’d severed the tendons in his arms off. I felt my swords slide through, but did I imagine they’d cut through skin because they should have? Or did the skin stay hard and merely had a bit of give to it, making me interpret my slices wrong?

There’s only one person I know who can make their skin hard enough to stop a blade from cutting through them.

Captain Van Gallan.

It doesn’t make any sense.

Van Gallan is a decorated soldier. People only have good things to say about him. He’s admired by his peers everywhere. Hell, he’s in charge of the Divine Treats for the love of the Gods! No one is as trustworthy as him. No one.

Maybe that’s why he’s been able to get away with such violent crimes for so long.

Some of the most famous serial killers on Earth had similar traits that their friends and neighbors would agree to in kind—that the killers didn’t seem like the type. They were nice. They were trustworthy. Oh, it couldn’t have possibly been them!

All they did was wear a mask to hide who they really were.

In that sense, Van Gallan would be just like those horrors of history.

I knew this trait, yet I still did not see it. No. It’s like I didn’t want to see it. If I were objective, I wouldn’t have ruled him out. I assumed too much. It was my fatal flaw in the end. I kept making excuses I wouldn’t have if the case weren’t so close to home. Any one of the potential suspects are people I’d have considered close friends or mentors. It blinded me. It was clearly going to be a soldier stronger than myself and male. That is a handful of people at most.

Dammit…

Enough.

I need to rationalize my situation.

For all intents and purposes, I should be dead. I have a Divine Treat, so my wounds heal quicker than normal. I can still die from fatal stabs, but as long as no crucial organs are hit, and I’m able to stop the bleeding in time, I’ll live.

That might not be a good thing.

As of this moment, I’m a woman trapped in the lair of a serial killer of women. I can’t use my mental state as an excuse even if he might believe me. I’m bodily a female, and Van Gallan will act accordingly.

I saw what happened to his victims.

It’s going to happen to me.

My body begins to shiver. Tears build in the back of my eyes. A panic attack hits me as I struggle to breathe.

Idiotidiotidiotidiotidiotidiotidiotidiotidiotidiotidiotidiotidiotidiotidiot!!!

I did the wrong thing.

I shouldn’t have done this alone.

The moment I tried to cut off his arms instead of killing him, I lost. I already knew that would be the case going in, and I still couldn’t do it. I’m a fool. An idiot. A coward. An asshole.

Oh shit, hahahahaha! Nononononononono…

It’s okay! It’s okay! Hahaha! Maybe this is all a trick! Yes! A trick! Van Gallan would never hurt me! Sure! He’s killed loads of other women, but I’m not really his type. I’m a fighter! I fought back! Those other girls didn’t! I’m different! Yes! I can convince him I’m not his type to kill! Then he won’t want to kill me! Yes, yes, yes! That’s the answer!

“…”

No.

No, it’s not.

Stop with the hope. Just…stop it.

Stop.

I sound like an idiot.

I’ll be treated like all those other girls.

Tortured.

Cut.

Killed.

Ra—

I wince.

Ah.

If I’d known that, I would have let Gai…that would have been better…

Tears begin streaming down my face as the hopelessness sets in.

The worst part is that everyone’s going to see me afterward. Remi. Gai. Nigel. Alexander. Master Talbert. My father. My mother. They’ll see the empty husk of my corpse, beaten and abused. Used and dumped. In pieces. Lifeless.

All because of my selfish need to fix myself.

Like killing someone would actually do that.

All my reasonings were half-baked.

I wanted to prove I wasn’t the coward I know I am.

That I can be a hero.

Closing my eyes, I allow my brain to focus on breathing. It’s hard with the gag in my mouth, but I’m able to stabilize myself after some time. A panicked brain cannot find salvation for the body. I need to find a way out of this and get back.

The bright side is that I created a contingency plan. Gai and Remi both have notes holding all the information on the killer I had. They may be able to find Van Gallan, too, if they corroborate my disappearance with those not in the castle at the time.

But what if they don’t?

How long will I be here?

What will happen to me?

How long do I have?

No, no, no, no I don’t have time to wait. I need to think. Think!

Plan, plan, I need a plan.

Oh!

It’s not like I’m being tied down by metal chains. I have my gifts. I can quickly get out of this.

My core tightens with energy as I allow two dark tendrils to protrude from my back.

“…”

Why aren’t they coming out?!

I don’t know how long I’ve been out, but my wounds are…why aren’t they healing?

Carefully, I prod the side of my cheek with my tongue. The gash is still there. It’s barely closed up, and the wound is stagnant, raw, and painful. Likewise, there’s pain in my arms still and on my side like I was stopped halfway through the healing process.

My entire body shouldn’t feel this weak. It’s almost like I’m sick…

Shit.

I must have been poisoned.

Divine Treats protect their eaters from sickness, but the sicker the person is, the weaker their powers get. Poison acts similarly, as does disease. I must be dosed with something.

Why wouldn’t Van Gallan poison me? There’s no better way to keep me captive and stop me from fighting back.

Dammit!

Screw that then!

I rub my wrists against the ropes for a while. Even when it starts to chafe the skin, even when I begin to feel blood, I keep rubbing.

“If only you had that determination earlier,” remarks a voice.

I freeze.

The sound comes from behind me. A muffled voice, but one vaguely familiar. Of course it is. I know its owner.

Hands touch both my shoulders. Fingers probe at my skin, putting pressure on my muscles. Breath abuts the side of my ear.

“You were strong. It was impressive to watch,” the garbled voice whispers in my ear. “You trained so very hard. It was awe-inspiring. Yet it wasn’t enough, sadly. I’m as distraught as you are.”

I try to shout, but the gag holds back my words.

The man takes it out of my mouth, crossing in front of me as he does. That sick mask remains on his face, as well as his tattered dark clothes.

“Yeah, I’m sure. You’re so sad, Captain,” I mock.

“Captain?” the man says. He pauses before nodding. “A reasonable deduction given the facts you have on hand.”

“Reasonable?”

“Is it because most of my limbs are still on my body?” As if to mock me back, the killer raises his remaining arm outward. “You were very aggressive. It nearly brought a tear to my eye. When you took my arm, I thought you’d finally have what it takes to achieve what I wanted from you. In the end, you couldn’t follow through. Training you was a wasted effort.”

The killer reaches up to his mask. He removes it slowly, letting it drop to his side while he holds it loosely in one hand.

My throat closes.

Master Talbert clears his throat. “The mask muffles my voice and the clothes hide my body. Even so, I thought you’d know it was me when we fought. Then again, we’ve never clashed to kill before.

“No.”

“Hm?”

“It’s not you.” My voice trembles. “It’s not. It’s not because it doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t. It does yet it doesn’t. Why would you? What caused this? Who? W-When did—” My voice grows more erratic as my brain begins to huddle inside itself seeking sanctity away from reality. “I thought it could be you and I was happy when I thought it was Van Gallan. But it doesn’t make sense. I kept ruling you out. A male that’s older and stronger than me. That’s you. But you wouldn’t. It doesn’t make any sense. What the fuck?!”

Master Talbert slaps me. Hard. My teeth further cut the gash in my cheek.

“Calm down, child. Ignoring what is right before your eyes is stupidity. I’m the person you were looking for. No one else. This is not a trick. You are not being saved. I am the terror that roams this city.”

I spit out some blood. “B-B-But…why?” It’s all I can muster. My brain overloads. “I-It doesn’t make any sense…”

“How so?” Master Talbert crouches before me. His head cocks to the side as if to tease me.

“Because you had so many opportunities to end my life throughout the years! More than anyone else! Why go through all this elaborate shit just to…and why now? Why this year and not any other time? Or when I was a kid?! Why did you warn me about the killer?! Why did you agree to keep me locked up in my room?! Wouldn’t that ruin your plan?! Why?! Why?! WHY?!”

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

Again, my brain swells with questions and confusion.

Master Talbert releases a sad smile. “I don’t owe you an answer, do I?”

“Fuck you!”

“Don’t worry, I was joking. I’ve been dying to tell you this story.” Master Talbert sighs. “Why this year? Because you were near completion and ready to leave. It would be my last chance. Why try to keep you locked up? Because I knew that would drive you into a corner, creating the appropriate mindset I desired of you. You’re right, I could have killed you at any point in your life, but I didn’t. It’s because you’re useful to me. You serve a purpose. Or so I thought.”

“Then explain it to me.”

“Who wants to hear the story of a decrepit old man only a few decades or so away from death?”

“Decrepit? Don’t make me laugh.”

“Maybe as a human, I’m young, but as a warrior, I’m nearing the end.”

“Mortality is arbitrary. You could die tomorrow tripping on stairs. It makes no sense to dwell on such things.”

Some of my rationality has returned, thankfully. I can always count on tense situations to turn me into an analytical, sarcastic asshole.

Master Talbert creeps forward in his crouched position. His remaining hand grips my thigh. I instantly want to kick at him, but the action is restrained by ropes. His head moves forward until it’s sitting in my lap. His eyes look up at me as his back leans against the chair.

I spit on his face.

Talbert doesn’t even flinch. “I’m different from others.”

“You’re a fucking loser.”

“I agree.”

“…what?”

“I don’t think my actions are grand. They’re an addiction. One I cannot stop no matter how much I wish to try. It’s not my fault. I was made like this by the world. By this country. By my family.” Talbert reaches up and touches my face like one would a lover. “Oh, it’s a sad story. Do you wish to hear it?”

“…it’s not like I can leave, asshole.”

“Be nice.” Talbert’s hands creepily massage my cheek. “Where to begin? Yes. I suppose I must start there. In the beginning. All stories must start at the beginning.”

This rambling, creepy tone is totally out of character. I’ve never seen Talbert like this. I couldn’t have ever imagined it.

“I grew up in a border village between Zalevet and Brosnock. There’s no point saying the name. It doesn’t exist anymore. It was a peaceful place until the arrival of the third Voiced forty years ago. The decades after that meant turmoil, especially the first decade, the one in which I was born. My mom would tell stories about those times. I got to see them just as they were fading away. I would have liked to have lived out my days there peacefully.” His face saddens. “It was never in the cards for me. A peaceful life.”

Talbert’s fingers glide over my lips, slowly, back and forth.

I wince at the touch.

“My dad was a soldier back in the day. While working as a border agent in our village, he met my mom. They fell in love. Both were excellent with a sword, but my mom was better. If she’d tried, she could beat my dad. Technique and speed were on her side, even though my dad was stronger. Sometimes, that’s more important. You have similar skills. Lots of potential,” notes Talbert.

“How lucky.”

“You are! You are! The similarities are maddening,” Talbert replies excitedly. He smiles a brilliant smile I’ve never seen before. Just as quickly, it falters as his eyes droop. “But that doesn’t matter now. No. Not at all.”

Talbert removes himself from my lap. He turns, placing his knee on my crotch. His fingers glide compassionately through my hair.

I stare silently, jaw tense, at the man as he continues his revelations.

“Dad continued to captain the local guards. Mom took on her role as my loving parent. I can see them now in dim, broken memories. I can’t really remember my dad, but he could always make my mother smile. Yes. Love. Tragic as it is. He died one day on patrol. As I said, tensions were heating up at the border. He was a mere casualty of that. We never did recover a body. My poor mom, oh how she cried. Never took her pain out on me, though,” Talbert tsks. “No, no, no! She cared for me through the tears, the sadness, the loneliness. Even in the end, she loved me. I’m grateful for that, but maybe if she loved me a little less, and I her, things would be different.” His voice decays at the end.

Does he expect me to empathize with him? Share in his pain? Care about his suffering?

Goddamn psychopath…

“The village’s defenses were weakened after my dad’s death. An order was issued by the alderman. Support was sent from the nearest large city, and the village was relieved. For a time. Mom continued to teach me how to use a sword, though I was very young at the time. She probably did it to try and forget Dad. Even through that sadness, she moved her blade with grace. It was beauty in motion, a charismatic trait so attuned with death it was as if they were siblings. You should have seen her.” Talbert smiles. “It’s about all I can remember of her. The techniques she taught me. Then she died.”

Tragic, but not an excuse. His mom and dad died, and now he’s a monster. Like that gives him the right to be demonic.

“Conflicts between Brosnock and Zalevet began to ramp up at the border. I was too young to help with the war effort, but more and more guards would stop by our village. We were a major stopping point before a large city on the border. It helped with prosperity, but it painted a painful target on our backs.”

“In the dead of night, to shut off troop movements and cause disruption in supply networks, a small force from Brosnock was sent to destroy our village.” Talbert hesitates. His voice cracks. His eyes seem to dim. “I remember smelling smoke. Mom pulled me out of bed. She screamed for me to hide. I was forced into the upper attic while she barricaded the house. It wasn’t enough. It never would have been, and she knew it. Soldiers broke in swinging swords at Mom. I watched from a crack in the ceiling as she was attacked.”

Ah.

Mother issues.

How…unoriginal.

“Mom fought well. The culmination of her skills ratified the beauty of the blade in my heart all over again.” Talbert seems to almost rejoice in death. “But this was war. Mom was always too kind. Too kind to kill. She was overwhelmed. She gave them cuts and scrapes, stabbed one in the foot, removed another’s finger, sliced off a nose tip. In the end, even with all her skills, it wasn’t enough. Was it because she was a woman? Was it because of her mind?”

Talbert’s voice trails off. He removes his knee from between my legs and his hand from my hair. Slowly, he walks around the chair. His remaining arm drapes over my shoulder to prod my breasts with his fingertips. The edge of his lips sit near my ear as he softly speaks his story once more.

“Missing a swing, one man grabbed her arm. She was thrown into a mirror. Little cuts decorated her skin. I can see them so clearly. They turned her clothes dark. Still, she tried to stand, but she lost her sword. That’s when it all turned into a game. Mom was thrown into a window. Glass cut at her some more. Her clothing was torn. They ripped at them until she was naked. Into another window, she went. Cuts peppered her skin. She was tossed to the floor, kicked, nicked, spit on. At some point, she could no longer stand. Then she began to crawl. They laughed at her. I was in awe as I watched, yet too afraid to cry or scream as that might have alerted the men. Eventually, she could crawl no more. Her body had lost too much blood. Beaten and naked, one after another, the men used my Mom until her eyes grew cold and lifeless. They discarded her just as easily, setting fire to the room.”

Stopping his previous action, Talbert moves in front of me again. He lifts his shirt. Underneath, his torso, in multiple areas, is fused by burnt, scarred skin. Tiny sword scars also decorate his body.

“As vividly as that day she died, I can recount every little detail of Mom’s death. The face she made when she fought, when she gave up, when she died. It’s burned into my brain, mocking me and my weakness. I made it out alive, but the cost was great, the wounds invisible but life-threatening. Mom and home were nothing but ashes when relief finally came. So few of us were alive that the village was never repaired. I was taken in by an orphanage but left to start training to become a soldier. The sword was all I had left of my family, so I staked the rest of my life on it,” he concludes as he lets his shirt cover him again.

Ah.

That…his mental issues make more sense now, as do the things he does to women. He copies what happened to his mother to cope with her loss. Sick, but it makes sense. But why remove the head? Why the hands on the ears and the eyes plucked out? That wasn’t a part of the story. It’d make more sense if he’d burned the bodies, but he never did.

“I was eventually rewarded with my efforts, enough to consume a Divine Treat,” Talbert says. In response, a dark tendril snakes along his arm. “Dark gifts. A powerful, rare ability. Used offensively, movement on the battlefield is second only to a light user. Its defensive capabilities are as hard as steel when honed correctly.” In response, the dark tendrils cake his entire arm like a thin sheet. He flexes his fingers. “With it and my sword, I was able to earn merit upon demonstration, enough to be put on a task force to quell villages in Brosnock along their border. Sweet, sweet revenge.”

Talbert begins to pace around the room in front of me. His eyes train on the floor.

“I was a snotty teenager when I killed my first person. I had the abilities of a Divine Treat, and was appointed as a squad leader of a group of giftless soldiers, all older than me by many years. Much like with my own village, we snuck into Brosnock at night to sack some cozy little place full of nobodies. As the fires began licking from one home to another and screams and blood flooded within the streets, the death of Mom itched my mind more vividly than it had ever done before in my waking moments.” Talbert’s voice darkens. “I went home by home slaughtering the people inside, as were my men, until I came across a mother and her child. I couldn’t hold back the memories anymore.”

Talbert places a hand over his mouth to hide a smile. A deep red blush overtakes his cheeks as he stares at…something on the floor. There’s nothing there. What is he imagining?

“I pulled the mother away from her son. He tried to hold onto her, but I kicked him away, telling him to run. He merely cowered in a corner, afraid. Watching. Soon, everything seemed to recede as I stared at…at Mom. My hands moved on my own. I began cutting at her as she screamed. Slowly but surely, with each cut, my heart grew more and more at peace. It was my first kill of the sort, so different from how I presently do things. I’ve refined a bit since then, you see, but you can’t forget your first. Soon, she was bleeding, crawling towards her son. In that moment, she died staring at him. Ah, I was fulfilled, but not yet. Not fully. Bloodied, I lost my chastity to her hoarse screams as she died from blood loss. I wasn’t as careful as I am now,” Talbert admonishes himself playfully.

Sick fuck.

Die.

Burn in hell.

“The kid was still there like I was, speechless. I tried to shove him away, to push him out of the room. Maybe I thought I wouldn’t be alone if there were another like me out there.” Talbert’s voice quivers for a moment. “He stared at me in shock. His legs wouldn’t move and piss pooled around him on the floor. I screamed at him. Told him to close his eyes, cover his ears, and run away. All the things I wish I’d done. All the things I never did.” Talbert bites the side of his cheek. “But you didn’t listen, you he?” His voice changes. It’s like he’s talking to a third person in the room. “You did not! So I had to do it for us, didn’t I? I…” Talbert clears his throat. “I shoved my fingers in his eyes to save him from the burden of sight. So he wouldn’t have to hear, I stabbed a sword through his hands, pressing them against his head to cover his ear so they’d stay there. Finally, we were quiet. We were at peace, unable to see the horror any longer.”

“Fucking monster,” I choke.

Talbert ignores me. “I felt a sense of closure.”

The eyes and the ears. The head. He imprinted two traumas into one, focusing them on the dead women.

“The closure didn’t last, but the tiny skirmishes occurred on and off for some time. Each of our countries traded blows without crossing the line into all-out conflict. Victims were aplenty. All I needed was a woman with a strong look in her eyes to put me in the right mindset.”

Talbert’s hand plays with the edge of his pants as he stares in ecstasy into the black nothingness around us.

“My unit was recalled from all this struggle as a temporary cease-fire was agreed upon between the two nations. It’s stood up until today with minor breaks, but peace has lasted a while, though tenuously. I was forced to go back to training as my newly found urges itched my brain.” Talbert furiously scratches the side of his head. “Luckily, a civil war began in Water’s Bastion. Your father was put in charge of the shit, and he asked I be his second-in-command. We were friends, though he knew nothing about me. Still doesn’t. We were brothers-in-arms. What more information did he need other than my abilities?”

Talbert’s shoulder slackens. He seems to age in minutes as the childish, excited demeanor from before shifts into a rigid, elder man. Practiced. Precise. Fully aware of his desires.

“Under the guise of war, I was able to repeat my process. My killings were kept to a minimum. I had to ensure our forces were not blamed for it when we became the occupying army. I’d steal into town at night, but I’d hide my bodies then. They’d disappear like ghosts from the town, but no one was the wiser. That’s when I started refining my process to what it is now. The presentation, well, that’s a new addition made special for my finale.”

Finale?

“The civil war ended with us in control. I was older then; my position was granted by your father. I had responsibilities. For a time, I was able to put aside my urges. Dreams of Mom became less frequent. I thought all that was behind me, that I had found closure. I threw myself into work and, in time, became…normal.” Talbert’s gaze turns towards me. “Then you were born.”

A tingle runs up my spine.

“I kept my distance from you as I did everyone else in the castle. I preferred being alone. Your father is the one who brought us together. No, it was you. You wanted to learn the sword. As we fought, as you grew, my old urges began to rise within me. By the time you were thirteen, I couldn’t take it anymore. It took everything I had not to kill you, so I made our practices rougher to satiate the urges. I knew two things. One, I wanted to kill you. Two, I wanted you to kill me.”

“What?” I blurt out.

“Mom couldn’t kill to her dying day, even knowing what would happen if she did not. In the end, it cost her her life and me any sense of normalcy. The blade chose her. She was gifted, yet she squandered her talent. She could have killed the men that attacked her with ease. She did not. She let herself die. Perhaps she thought it was kindness? In the end, I got hurt, and she died. That was not kindness. The only kindness those people deserved was death.”

Talbert stands before me again. He stares down at me less like a prize and more like he’s reprimanding a child.

“Like her, you are a coward. I watched you your whole life wondering what held you back and why you were so weak-minded, indecisive, and controllable. You mistook weakness and capitulation for kindness and compassion. Like Mom. As soon as I realized that, I knew I had to make you, make her, survive. Survive me, what killed her, the men, the—” Talbert cuts himself off. He walks away from me, frustrated, before returning to face me. “It’s why I drove you so hard. If you’d quit, I would have quit. But you never did. I was justified. You justified me.”

I stare at the man unable to speak.

There it is again.

The same thing that killed me before.

My personality. My weakness. Everything that made my first life terrible, that’s created all the consequences in the second…it all keeps coming back to haunt me.

“Then my ability to force that point on you started slipping away. Your father was so insistent on marrying you off to ensure you a happy, peaceful, normal life. I prolonged it for as long as I could. The Divine Treat. Chats with your father. Reinforcing the ball when he brought it up and curtailing any engagements. Any excuse I could give to keep you around. They had to be reasonable, but that was easy. It confused him, confused you. It was all trauma you needed to grow past to survive me, yet you let your weakness persist. You never changed, and I got tired of waiting. So goddamn tired.”

He never really cared about me.

Not even once.

Not in a normal way.

It was all for this.

“I started laying the groundwork for this plan some time before your ball, one I could rush if needed to stop your departure out of fear for your life. Luckily, you chose Mr. Regal. That kept you in town long enough to draw out my plans. I don’t know what I would have done if the prince had won.”

“Lucky you,” I spit.

“Very.” Talbert nods. He crouches before me again, his hand rubbing my knee. “After that, all I needed to do was force your hand. You needed the drive to kill to change…to beat Mom…and save your life,” he says softly, almost lovingly. “I deserve to die. I know that. My addiction is morbid. I wish it would end, but I cannot make it so. It can only resolve with the end of my life. In recognition of that, I killed. It would be my last time, so I allowed myself to indulge in theatrics both for my benefit and to set the stage. The pressure to catch me built within the castle. I led the task force. I muddied the info. Time and time again, it looked like we’d catch the killer. Then, nothing.”

“How could you have planned any of this?!” I reject. “You say I’m a coward, but a big part of your plan was to fight me and for me to want to fight you. What coward would do that? You didn’t invite the Voiced here, you didn’t tell Remi to take me out with her on her job, nor did you compel Gai to turn the two of us into vigilantes. There’s no way—”

“None of that was part of my plan. It was all luck,” agrees Talbert. “I thought the pressure would urge you to act if Remi started reporting to you the girls were killed and dressed to imitate you. My hopes were that you would feel duty-bound like it was your fault. You did. The confidence you earned from Gai helped speed the process along. If it had not, I was going to up the number of girls to thirty, swell public panic, and use that to create a situation where you and the castle would be forced to react out of obligation.”

“And if that didn’t work?”

“Scarlet, I was in charge of the squad investigating me. Your father listens to everything I say. One way or another, what has transpired would have always transpired. It was lucky for me that you decided to carve your own path toward change. It made my desires easier to accomplish and saved many more women from dying.”

“Saved?” I blink. “And the other girls that died? Didn’t they deserve to be saved, bitch?”

“I took advantage of what you gave me, and my plans succeeded,” says Talbert, ignoring my words. “When I started dressing up the girls to look like you, oh the fear it gave our little Remi. She reacted just like I thought, restricting your movements. I indulged her, of course. I knew it would drive the new you into a corner, force you to fix this yourself. That’s who you became. A caged bird in love with freedom. All I needed to do was take all semblance of it away, and you fell directly into my grasp ready to fight for what little independence you had.” Suddenly angry, he grabs my throat. “That person should have been able to finish the fucking job!” he spits before releasing me.

Coughing, I try to speak, “H-How did you k-know I would find y-you? And wh-when?”

“I left enough clues where I knew you’d at least figure out my time and place. Without me to explain away the evidence, it’s obvious what was happening with the girls. I kept my actions consistent and traceable so that I’d always have something to look forward to. It gave you a place to go in the end, didn’t it? One I could observe from a distance, monitor, and abandon if necessary. It was easy to dissuade the others. The patterns were so simple, it was easy to rationalize their impossibility given how careful the killer is throughout his process.” Talbert coos and subtly brags. “Oh, you were so disappointing last week. I nearly killed you out of spite, but I left you alone. A little more pressure. A little more drive. I knew you’d come back. There was not a single doubt in my mind.” He sighs. “Even so, in the end, you tried to take me alive. Twice. I’ve failed. You’re weak. It’s disappointing. A coward unable to save herself in the end. You must be punished.”

“Fuck you!”

Talbert turns his back to me and crosses the room.

Talbert is damaged. He’s a psychopath. It both is and is not his fault. His mental state does not forgive his crimes. Even if he knows that he needs to die, he’s a hypocrite. If he really felt that way, he’d have killed himself. No. He wanted to be killed, not to die. There’s a difference. Talbert seems to think there’s kindness in killing. I want to agree with him. It’d make my life easier, but…

It’s just…

I can’t…

I can’t do it! Even now! When I want to! I can’t!

A shelf sits nearby. Talbert walks over to it. He pulls a tiny knife off the surface. It’s small. Curved. Good for carving.

Horror fills me.

“Don’t! St-Stop! Go away!” I plead, terror creeping into my blood.

“This is part of the process.” Talbert walks over to me. He bends down until we’re at eye level with one another. “I still remember all the cuts Mom had,” he lulls with a vacant look in his gaze. “Don’t worry. In the end, you’ll get a chance at redemption like the other women.”

“Bullshit!” I continue to squirm in place.

“It’s true. I let every single one of them go. They just couldn’t make it home. One girl almost did. The poor child.”

I struggle against the ropes.

Talbert suddenly grabs my face. He forces me to look at him. “I will cut you until you are weak, just like Mom. I will let you flee, just as Mom tried to do. If you succeed, then you are better than her. You deserve to live. The Gods will have deemed it so. If you do not, I will finish as I always have.” His tone is stern. “You are the last. Though you may not take my life, I will die because of you. Everything is revealed, and I have no desire to make this end slowly. When we are found, it ends. I will take as many people with me as I can. I’m tired. I’m ready for the end. I wish to be killed, but I will not die alone.”

Talbert pulls away. He grabs my ankle.

The blade slices against the sole of my foot.

I scream.