Page 84 of Mayhem and Minnie

Behind the cellar, however, is my playroom.

I drag Paul into the playroom and dump him on the floor while I go about setting up everything for his comfort.

He’ll find my playroom very welcoming. As welcoming as the girls he’s raped in the past were.

Although I made sure to cover my tracks, my actions were still reckless because I can be put in the same location as Gelly Paul over here.

If I hadn’t been so high-strung recently, I would have let him go—sans the girl, of course—and stalked him for a week, all the while planning the perfect kidnapping and punishment.

As it stands, I might not be as creative as he deserves since I don’t have enough time to think of a fitting punishment for him.

“I promise you, Paul, that I’ll give you a night you won’t forget,” I murmur as I put on my suit and gloves.

Setting up the screen on the wall to show me Minnie’s room, I start undressing Paul until he’s stark naked, and then I drag his body to my favorite chair—that can convert into a bed, too!

It feels almost profane to have Minnie’s exuberant beauty in the background while I have to stare at nasty Paul’s genitals, but I suppose this is a good reminder of what lies beyond the walls of my house.

Minnie could have very well encountered a slimy Paul, too, and she would have been hurt.

My anger spikes.

She’s not safe, anywhere but here, with me.

The outside world will hurt her. Men will hurt her.

Men like fucking Paul.

The thought drives me insane.

Instead of seeing the unknown girl he’d drugged, I see Minnie.

She’s such a gentle soul that every fucking depraved bastard is drawn to her like a fucking moth to a flame.

But that will not happen.

I found her first.

She belongs to me now, which means no one else can harm her—me included.

To think that only a week ago I entertained the idea of killing her.

Unacceptable.

How could I have ever thought of something so disgraceful is beyond me.

I purse my lips, mentally berating myself for it.

But then another thought arises.

Mister gelled hair did get one thing right. I have no idea how to behave with women.

Murder is all I know.

Maybe my first thought was to kill her because I had no idea how else to translate my interest in her. After all, for more than a decade, my only interest—besides trashy TV—has been killing.

From the start, she didn’t fit the profile. She was an innocent—someone who needed saving, not damning.

Clarity explodes in my mind.

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