Deadly Secrets. Part 43

Hope everyone’s week went well. I haven’t been up to much, though I did go to a friends art exhibition yesterday, which was pretty awesome. It was really enjoyable and fairly fun, I was unsure of what to expect as I’ve only ever been to art galleries, rather than exhibitions, it was a really cool experience though. Plus, got to see some amazing art, which is always fun.

On with the show!

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part 1, part 42

Patrick woke slowly, feeling groggy. His muscles were sore, he must have fallen asleep on the couch, he opened his eyes as he tried to stand, but something was holding him down. He was in his bedroom and there, on the bed. He remembered. He struggled not to vomit. Closing his eyes again he began to breathe through his mouth, the stench still filled the room. Deep heavy earth, chemicals and underneath it all, death. He moved his hands, searching for the knot, but there appeared to be none, he pulled at the ropes, trying to find some slack in them, they remained tight. He looked around the room, but he was unable to see who did this to him, the room was empty. Something tickled the back of his neck, a figure moved into a view. “Ah, good, you’re awake.” “What the fuck is going on?” “You’ve been a thorn in my side for a long time now, a very long time and I’ve decided that our little games have finished.” “What games? Who are you?” He laughed, “please, the time for being coy has long since passed. We’re at the end now, there are no more secrets.” “Look, I really don’t know who you are. Why are you doing this?” He frowned, “maybe you have some reason for this game you’re playing, but I am in no mood for it right now. Maybe if you have some time to think you’ll realise how pointless it is.” The man disappeared from sight, and Patrick heard the door close.

Patrick tried to think, he couldn’t remember seeing that face anywhere before, the man didn’t look even slightly familiar. He thought of those he had blackmailed, and those who  he had followed, then those that hired him, but he was growing certain he had never seen that man before, let alone played any games with him.

He sat in the kitchen, trying to figure out why Patrick was still playing his games. It was over now, he had won and he would make Patrick break sooner or later, but why would he cling to his lies? He shook his head and looked around the kitchen. He had brought his own weapons with him, but it would be nice to see what Patrick had to hand. Once he was done looking through the drawers and cupboards he had a knife and a metal skewer, no doubt left over from something, but useful none the less.

He went back into the room and looked at his tools, they were all laid out behind Patrick, normally he liked his victims to see them, but not this time. The lack of visual aid would enhance Patricks fear, no doubt he knew many forms of torture, but if he didn’t know what tools were at hand, his imagination would run wild. He added the knife and skewer to the neat rows and then picked up a small blade. It was time to get to work.

The cuts were shallow but painful, thin rivulets of blood crisscrossed Patricks arms, his head was sagging, “tired already?” “Why are you doing this.” “You know why.” “Just…just for a moment, pretend I don’t, would you tell me then.” He considered it for a moment, “Ok. How about this information for information. Deal?” Patrick nodded. “Good. So where are the photos?” “What photos.” “You know what ones.” Patrick thought frantically for a moment. “In my office, all the photos are in my office.” He nodded. “Ok, your turn.” “Why did this start.” “You started it. Taking all those pictures of me at the Oldtown Hotel. I saw you, clicking away. Though I was surprised you never tried to blackmail me, but you’re a smart man. I think you knew how dangerous that would be. Still, you continued to play the game. I just escalated it. You never gave me the photos, never gave me your word you’d keep the secret. Why didn’t you just give me the photos? It would have saved us both a lot of trouble” Patrick tried to think, he’d never taken photographs of this man before, but the Oldtown Hotel was one of his frequent spots. “I didn’t take any photos of you, I swear. Oldtown is where cheaters go. It’s well known.” “Like you could pass up something so juicy. She was there in my room, you had the perfect angle to get a photo of her. Really it was just luck that I saw the glinting on your camera lens.” “I never took photos of you. I swear to god.” “Patrick, your games will only cause more pain for you. It’s already cost you your wife. I can make it worse for you before I finally let you die. I have extensive experience, as you well know.” He slowly brought the blade down onto Patricks skin. He would make this last, he would have his revenge.

Ariadne walked slowly, she told herself it was because there wasn’t any rush, but really she worried that she was making a mistake. It was just dinner sure but dinner tonight could easily turn into being invited for dinner tomorrow and the day after and before she knew it, she would be basically living with Patrick again. There was enough food in the house for the two of them, though she wasn’t sure what Patrick had planned for dinner. She had told him she had gone to her apartment briefly to check on things, so he wouldn’t expect her for a while anyway. It was a half an hour walk at a good pace. She passed by the last shop and ducked inside, just in case they needed anything. She walked through the aisles, scanning them quickly, though nothing jumped out at her. They’d be fine with what they had. She went towards the drinks refrigerator and grabbed a bottle of soft drink, once outside she opened it and took a few gulps, then she started walking again.

At Patricks door she dug out her keys and found the one for the house, she didn’t want to disturb him if he was cooking, especially if he was doing something elaborate. She stepped inside, expecting to smell food, but there was the thick, heavy scent of candles. Rose petals lined the stairs, she looked at them, frozen, unsure what to do. Part of her just wanted to leave. They had discussed this already and they agreed to be friends and friends only. She sighed and moved towards the kitchen, she went a few steps before she heard a groan from upstairs. She stopped and cocked her head, listening. The groaning became louder and was replaced by yelling, she was about to call out when she heard someone speaking. It wasn’t just Patrick in the house, assuming he was up there. It was Joe, it had to be. She had to save Patrick. She went to the kitchen, trying to be quiet as possible, she couldn’t make any noise to alert him. She grabbed the nearest knife, wishing she had a gun or something she’d be able to use as a long range weapon. She went back to the hallway and started to climb the stairs slowly. The noises were coming from the main bedroom, she could hear someone talking, and beneath that, groaning.

She stopped at the door, trying to see in, but the door was only ajar, she couldn’t see what was happening inside, she gently pushed the door, hoping no one would notice. She peered through the gap, there was Patrick, tied to a chair and covered in blood, someone was standing over him, he was too large to be Joe. Shit, maybe Joe was somewhere else in the house. She needed to take the guy by surprise, he seemed to be entirely focused on Patrick, she tried not to throw up when she saw what was being done to Patrick. Ariadne took a deep breath and stepped further into the room, neither had noticed her yet, good, that was very good, the man had a weapon, if he turned at the wrong moment. She’d go for the throat, it’d be over quickly. she rose her arm, getting ready to strike, the man stood and turned, smiling. His eyes had a strange, glazed look, before he could react, Ariadne stabbed him. The knife sunk into his body easily, she pulled it back, getting ready to strike again when he swiped at her, Ariadne jumped back, barely avoiding the blade. He appeared as though he knew what he was doing, she would have to end it quickly, she took a deep breath and launched herself at him, pain flooded her midsection, hot and bright. Ignoring it as much as possible, she started stabbing wildly, again and again. He grunted as the knife made contact, he wouldn’t lose, he couldn’t lose, Ariadne slammed the knife down using all her strength, the knife punctured his eyeball with a squelch, he stopped moving. She let the handle go and fell off his body. Her stomach hurt. She crawled towards Patrick and using one of the knives, began to cut him free. He fell off the chair, too weak to maintain his balance. Ariadne pressed her hand to her stomach, it was slick with blood. She felt weak, so very weak, but there was work to be done. She started to crawl towards the phone, the world swimming in and out of focus. She need to call an ambulance, she had to call the police, she needed the phone. Her breathing was heavy and fast, she needed to make it, if she didn’t they’d both be dead. She needed to get to…to…something…

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About Alan James Keogh

I am a 26 year old writer who somehow tricked U.C.D. into giving me not only a degree in English and Classical studies, but an Hons Masters in Creative Writing too. Visit my blog where I post short stories twice a week (Monday and Wednesday) and an installment of a serialised novel on Fridays. I did consider writing this in the third person, as though it was written by someone else, but Alan is not comfortable writing in the third person as it seems kinda creepy and unbalanced so Alan decided it was probably best to write in the first person. He hopes it went well for him.
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One Response to Deadly Secrets. Part 43

  1. Pingback: Deadly Secrets. Part 44. | Alan James Keogh

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