Page 22 of Burning Souls

SATANS HELPER

Imay have forgotten about the two people upstairs. It’s not my fault, I was tired.

Walking up the stairs, stairs might be a far-stretched word.

These could crumble at any given moment.

They stand arms crossed, one leg over the other, in a perfect line. Their jaws all line up, and my mouth waters from the view. I narrow my eyes and take a slow breath, carrying on as I walk up the rest of the stairs.

Walking back into the room, they all smirk at me and then at each other.

The man hangs, the rope now around his neck.

The woman is hanging too, her wrists still tied up and taken hostage.

“Cheer up. You both look miserable.” I chuckle, but they don’t find it funny.

“Fuck you, crazy bitch.” She spits, missing my face. I step back. Sean steps forward, slapping the woman.

“Next time you call her crazy, I’ll do more than slap you.” He blows me a kiss, walking away.

“Not to break up this adorable moment of Sean being protective over you, but the man hanging from his neck won'tlast much longer,” Tobias informs me, as if I didn’t already know. Anger floats in my stomach like acid.

“Thank you for stating that. Don’t forget I will happily stab you with this knife, then burn you to ashes.”

“Such bitter-sweet words. Flirting with me again, Angel. You can stab me, then burn me to ashes, but only if I get to taste that sweet pussy of yours.”

“Oh my God.”

I roll my eyes, flipping him off.

“God has no room in this. The only God you will pray to will be us when you are on your knees, waiting for us to fill you up.”

Walking back over to my toys, I take the tip of my knife and cut the rope around the man's neck. He drops to his knees, his hands around his throat as he dry-heaves, trying to catch the lost air back to his lungs.

My knife’s taken to the woman tied at her wrists.

She drops to her knees, rubbing where the rope has left red marks from her blood circulation.

“Run as fast as you can. If I catch you, I kill you. If I don't, you are free.” They both look up at me, wondering whether I'm joking or not.

I never joke.

“If you would rather, I will kill you here. I can also work with that.” My head is thrown back as I toss my knife in the air. The blade lands in the palm of my hand; I laugh at the pain. The pain feels good, giving me more adrenaline.

“Seriously, you two are boring. How about this? If you don't run, I won't just kill you but your whole family as well. Don't underestimate me,” I say. They both pick up three feet and run out the door down the stairs.

They won’t get far, but I like to give people false hope.

The same false hope I was given daily, year after year.

As soon as they enter the woods beside this place, they will think they are free, but what they are yet to discover is that we have traps all over the woods. Not to mention, the men walking out of the room love a good chase, as do I.

I can hear them and smell the fear as they run downstairs. They can get out if they are smart enough to figure it out.

I run down the stairs. I'm struck with a pair of women's feet running. I run after her, she comes toward the back door, it’s locked, but she fights for her life, kicking it until she breaks it down, running outside toward the woods. The dark woods where hell lurks.

“One two, Freddie’s coming for you,” I sing while chasing her, singing loud but running a little slower.

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