Page 43 of The Butterfly Killer

After thinking about gouging out Roman's eyes, he threw the pencil back into the box.

"I'm not playing your stupid games." He grabbed the corner of the blanket and threw it over himself as he turned onto his side. The bed shook under his weight and the dice went flying.

"Fine. You'll get bored eventually," Roman said without an ounce of annoyance.

Marcus had a surge of violence go through him at Roman's calm words. He wanted so badly to make the man shut up and also understand how fucked up he was being.

To Marcus's annoyance, Roman picked the dice from the floor and rolled them into the bottom of the box.

"Hm. A four sequence already," he said to himself.

Marcus seethed under the blankets. It became increasingly hot though his lower body was freezing. His eyes burned and he closed them, but that only heightened his hearing. Roman wrote down his score as he played by himself. The pencil scratching against the paper was what drove Marcus mad.

He threw the blankets off again and turned over to face Roman. "What will it take for you to leave me alone if you're not going to kill me already?"

Roman rolled again with a single die. "I told you already. I'm not going to kill you."

There was a silent "not yet" tacked onto the end of that statement.

"Then why are you trying to drive me to death?" He was overtaken by fatigue he was getting so worked up. It was a combination of everything that was happening. The kidnapping, the discovery of another serial killer out for him, meeting the Butterfly Killer copycat,andbeing part of a plan for said man.

He was also tired from thinking so much. His somewhat obsession with finding the Butterfly Killer had always been tiring. Late nights, early mornings. He was always thinking about the man who'd destroyed his life. And now that deep focus was transferred to this man who was only inches away from him.

He wanted to know everything about Roman. What he ate, how he slept, why he liked that book, what made him tick. But he was caught in a cycle of being disgusted and shamed that he wasmore fascinated by the man than he was repulsed. He did want to make Roman suffer, but he wasn't the man he was after. The real Butterfly Killer was still out there.

In his anger and tiredness, he didn't notice how close he'd become to Roman until then. Their faces were only a few inches apart. Marcus was closer to the mattress, held up by his weak elbow. Roman tilted his head, his long hair falling off his shoulder.

Formaldehyde mixed with peppermint filled the air between them. Marcus breathed in deeper unconsciously.

Roman stared back at him, his eyes flickering between Marcus's eyes as if he wasn't sure which one held the answers to his questions. Marcus was sure Roman didn't care one way about Marcus. Just like the butterflies, other insects, and rodents behind the curtain, Marcus was just another scientific study. Worse than that, really. He was just a stepping stone for him to get what he wanted.

"I'll leave you alone then," Roman said. He put the game away and set it to the side.

As if Marcus would change his mind and would want to play later.

Roman didn't leave the chair. He put his feet up on the bed and folded his arms over his chest.

"What? Are you going to watch me now?" Marcus didn't know where the snark had come from. It was bubbling up and out of his mouth before he could think twice about the consequences.

Roman didn't look peeved by the attitude or affected by it at all. He did, however, turn up a corner of his mouth for a second. He was amused.

When Marcus got no answer, he turned over again. He tried to ignore the stare on his back and close his eyes to fall asleep. He was both tired and wide-awake.

What must have been half an hour later, Roman left the chair. Marcus relaxed under the covers and finally fell asleep.

Something was wrong. There was a weight crushing his chest. His throat was sealed tight. His eyes flew open, but he was greeted by darkness. A large figure stood above him.

"Breathe, Marcus."

The soft voice was that of an angel. Marcus knew better. It was actually a demon here to finish the job Roman had started.

Marcus flung his weak arms. They felt like cooked spaghetti. He didn't have much control of them as they flopped back down on the damp mattress. His whole body was covered in a layer of sweat.

"Don't touch me!" He thrashed as the figure grabbed his flailing arms and pushed them against the bed above his head.

He screamed and kicked his feet.

"Stop!" The figure yelled back. They struggled to keep him restrained. Their long hair fell down and into Marcus's face.

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