Page 50 of Unhinged Cain

Stupid videos that made it look so easy.

In a world of predators and prey, I’d somehow just ended up on the wrong end of the game and was staring down the throat of a great white shark. Panting hard from screaming like a demon possessed me, I banged the chains off the rails, and did what every rational person would do in this scenario. I yelled profanities as loud as I could.

“Fuck you! I hate you! You don’t know me! You monster!”

It shocked me when the guy didn’t come running in because I was trying to yell his house down with my screams. Then again, it was a good assumption this spot was soundproof. We were in the middle of fucking nowhere, and the music was so loud that it alone could wake the dead.

Bad pun Kirby, really bad pun. This was great, just fucking great.

Of course, I’d be attracted to a serial killer. That was certainly my luck and in line with my life’s trajectory. It didn’t seem to matter where I met a guy, how much money he had, or even how good he smelled. Each one got progressively worse instead of better, and just when I didn’t think I could find a more abysmal choice than Peter, I ended up in this mess.

“A fucking serial killer! Really?” I wanted to bang my head on the wall. Maybe that would help whatever was wrong with me.

Even though he was a tow truck driver and I’d just had that horrible fight with Peter, I should’ve known. I should’ve seen a sign. I mean, I’m an FBI trainee, for fuck’s sake. At the coffee shop, something seemed unusual about him, but the look in his eyes set my underwear on fire, and my brain left the building at that point.

I was so fucked. I’d seen his work, and the artwork was always made when the victim was alive. Leaning against the wall, I let my cheek press into the coolness and closed my eyes. I never thought I’d wish for a normal day of classes, but here I was doing just that.

Pushing away from the wall, I let my eyes search the space and drawers closest to me. I stretched as far as the straps would allow and managed to brush my fingertips along one of the handles.

“Come on. You can do this.”

I pushed the cuff on my arm as far up as possible and tried again. This time my fingertips were able to make it over the top. Curling my fingers, I pulled back, but the drawer wouldn’t budge. I slumped over as I realized it was locked.

“God, fucking dammit! Ahh!”

The sound of my screaming was drowned out by the “Sunshine” song playing on a loop. It was loud enough to rival any concert. I once liked this song, and he was ruining it for me. Giving up on the escape plan, for now, I searched for the clothes he mentioned. My now buttonless blouse was hanging open, and I shivered and wrapped my arms around myself.

Poking my head around the corner toward the bathroom, I stared at the pitch-dark space and swallowed hard. Even though I knew he wasn’t down here, the images of what could be waiting for me inside that bathroom felt like shit could still get a whole lot worse. Sucking it up, I took a step around the corner, and an overhead light flicked on, illuminating the simple hallway. I glanced up at the light built into the ceiling before finally focusing on the blinking light in the corner.

Motion sensor and a camera—of course, there would be a camera. There were probably many hidden in here.

Taking a few more steps, I paused when another light came on. I didn’t know what was better, the pitch black or the spotlights, but they made everything outside of their glow seem darker. I placed my foot over the threshold of the bathroom doorway like I was in the movie Escape Room and expected the floor to drop out or something to try to cut off my head.

Just like the other lights, as soon as the sensor picked up my movement, the light flickered on and showed off a simple bathroom. Soft grey walls with crisp white accents and a few little decorative things gave me pause. A picture hanging on the furthest wall looked like blood splatter had been framed. Given the house I was in, there was the distinct possibility that was exactly what that was—blood. I yelped when the light outside the door turned off and then the next until I understood what it was like to be inside a glowing fishbowl and unable to see what was coming in the darkness.

Stop it, Kirby, you’re a bloody FBI agent. Newbie or not, you need to pull your shit together.

Taking a deep breath, I straightened my spine and marched to the sink and the awaiting clothes. Biting my lip, I gave the picture on the wall another look and reached for it and the metal frame, but it was just out of reach. Only my fingertips grazed the surface.

Son of a bitch, he already thought of all of this. He’s fucking toying with me.

Swallowing down the anger, I turned back toward the clothes that Cain had left. I had to admit that I wasn’t sure what I was expecting, but fuzzy purple pajamas with little skulls on them were certainly not it. I didn’t know how the hell he expected me to put these on until I felt the velcro. He was diabolical. Who else got pajamas made with shackles in mind?

It was way too tempting not to put them on and stick my middle finger up at Cain and his ability to crawl into my brain. The material was soft under my hand as I ran it over the top.

What did this guy want with me? I mean, killing me seemed like the obvious answer, but did he always get his victims their favorite sleepwear? Did he always take the time to know what their favorite brand of toothpaste and shampoo were? Did he always turn his victims into glorified pets? The thought was unsettling, and a stab of jealousy sliced through me and was quickly followed by anger that made me want to hit myself.

I needed to find a way to get the upper hand. There had to be a way to make him trust me or let me go. It was just figuring out what the button was. As I turned to investigate the shower, I decided to play his game for now until I could figure a way out of this place and how to get away from Cain. There was no way I was going to end up as his next art piece displayed on the side of the road. Desperate times called for desperate measures, and this definitely qualified as desperate.

“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine.”

“You make me happy when skies are gray.”

“You’ll never know, dear, how much I love you.”

“Please don’t take my sunshine away.”

Would this song never end?