Page 6 of The Author

I rushed up the stairs and avoided the main bedroom. She would be in there. The hallway was narrow, but I opened the first door, which looked like another bedroom. I went further down the hallway and saw the door open to a small bathroom. It had to be the room in the end.

There it was, her study. I quickly went inside and closed the door. Her laptop was lying on the desk. I took my backpack off and shoved it inside. I couldn’t see a hard drive anywhere on the desk or the shelves around it. This would do for now. I zipped everything up and decided to get the fuck out of there.

I opened the door, thinking how easy it was to burgle houses. It was no wonder so many houses and cars were stolen. From all my time around her house, I know she doesn’t have any CCTV, nor did any of her neighbours. Suckers.

When I opened the door and shone the torch along the hallway, I saw her bedroom door was open, and she was standing there wearing white pyjamas. Her long black hair was a mess around her face.

She looked at me in horror, and her mouth dropped open. All my anger towards her came to the forefront. I ran through the hallway and tackled her to the ground, pushing her flat on her back. I slapped my gloved hand over her mouth.

The torch was still in my hand, and I smacked it across the side of her head. I watched her head turn from the heavy blow, and her eyes flickered before closing.

Fucking shitballs.

This was not part of my plan. She’d seen my face. She might be able to identify me. I slowly pulled myself up off her. I shone the torch on her face before shining it down her body. All the thoughts that ran through my mind were not pleasant. I slid the backpack off and pulled the duct tape out. I taped her hands, feet and mouth. I briefly checked where I smacked her head. There was a little blood, but I was sure she would live.

Whether she would enjoy her life after I was finished with her was debatable. She must be around 5 foot 5 or 6 inches. She would fit nicely into my car trunk.

This might be a gift for me.

I was going to do so many things to her to make her regret stealing from me.

Stealing two years of my life.

Yeah, she was going to pay.

Chapter 5

Faye

When I woke up, the side of my head was killing me. I opened my mouth to moan, but I couldn’t open my mouth. I wriggled my lips and felt more pain. I brought my hand to my lips and felt little bumps along the top and bottom of my lips.

“It was a toss-up between sewing your lips up or cutting your tongue out,” a man's voice said.

My heart stopped beating at his words. I looked towards the direction of the voice. I remembered him. He was in my house when I got up to go to the toilet.

I touched the skin above and below my lips and felt the bumps. This fucking psycho had sewed my lips shut. I didn’t know who he was or why he had taken me. My eyes wandered around the room before I reached him again.

He was wearing dark-rimmed brown glasses. His dirty blonde hair was immaculate, but the venom in his blue eyes shocked me. He looked unhinged. I don’t think anyone had ever looked at me with such hatred. I couldn’t take my eyes off him. My eyes dropped to his hands to ensure he had no weapons, but they were empty.

“I believe you stole my manuscript, you little bitch,” he said as his nostrils flared in anger and his eyes narrowed on mine.

I shook my head. This couldn’t be happening to me. I didn’t steal anything.

Was he the other author?

He moved so fast I couldn’t react.

He gripped one of my hands and pulled me over towards him. He placed my hand flat on the bedside table, picked up a hammer that was on it, and slammed it down. I tried to scream, but all I did was pull on the stitches and let out a muffled sound. The pain immediately ran through me. Not from my hand but the skin around my lips and sore head. I slowly opened one eye to see he had hammered a large dent into the small wooden table beside the bed.

“Don’t fucking lie to me. I spent two years writing my book,” he screamed at me, holding up the hammer again.

I closed my eyes, not wanting to see his anger or what he did next.

I heard him inhale a long breath before he exhaled it out.

“You are going to pay for taking two years of my life, bitch,” he said in a calmer voice. “You are going to pay every fucking day.”

I felt him let go of my hand, but I was too scared to move. When I heard the door open and close, I still couldn’t move.

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