Page 43 of Deviant Illusions

His face splits into a wide smile, almost human before his laugh booms, echoing into the house behind him. Something akin to pride flashes across his features, only it’s dark and twisted. He fully turns to look down the hallway where the boy ran through. Without him obstructing the doorway, I can see through it.

Everything is concrete. The walls, the floor, the ceiling. All of it. The boy’s wet steps show that the hallway narrows and curves, but the entire thing being made of the same material creates anillusion like a funhouse that’s meant to disorient everyone who enters. Rowan presses against my shoulder, his eyes lighting up as he coaxes, “Come, nephew. Allow me to introduce you to true power.”

I don’t make the sensible decision and run. No, I do something fucking stupid, and freely walk into the enclosed building. Despite there being no natural light, everything is bright. The fluorescent lights reflect off the polished walls and I’m discombobulated as we walk deeper through the hallway. The heavy steel door clangs, then hisses, locking us in.

Rowan walks ahead and I’m sure the floor is unlevel because he’s taller than he was. He’s like a twisted circus master and everything he’s created is meant to fuck with a person’s head, to keep them confused and fearful so he can get enjoyment from their misery.

The hallway begins to wind, and the floor is definitely not level because the tops of our heads bob as we get deeper into the building, as though our height is changing. But the ceiling is doing the same so that it’s not obvious. It makes my stomach roll, my palms clammy, and my throat constrict.

We walk through yet another ridiculously thick steel door into a stalker’s wet dream. The wall in front of me has screens covering the entire surface, which monitor the couple chained to the wall from every angle. Their faces are covered while Lennox focuses on a smaller screen. I tilt my head to look around his shoulders to see what he’s watching, but he quickly changes the view to the outside of the property. Static lines break up the image of the snow due to the abrupt change and I let him have his secret porn habit or whatever fucked up shit he’s viewing. The sleek, black desk seamlessly blends into the concrete wall through a notch that the wires are tucked through in the otherwise empty room.

Rowan pats my back with enough force that I end up moving forward as he pulls out the empty seat beside Lennox. “Watch.”

Turning on his heel, he leaves the room and the door slams behind him. There is no hissing or clicking of the mechanics, so it’s not locked. Until Lennox presses something under the table and the sound of his twin’s steps are like a gavel.

He doesn’t say anything as we watch Rowan walk through the hallway. There must be a blind spot, because he disappears from view for a few minutes. He only returns when he enters the room the couple are being held in and I ask, “Is this some kink thing?” My question is ignored, so I knock my foot against his. “I don’t really want to watch you act out a throuple fantasy.” Multiple masked guards enter the room after Rowan and my brows go up. “Or a gangbang. Or is it an orgy, if there are that many?”

Lennox turns his head and laughs without allowing the sound to escape. “Are you asking me for the definition between a gangbang and an orgy?”

I shrug as sound crackles through the notch in the wall, pulling my attention back in time as Rowan scoffs, “Let me guess, Vlad is who you think is going to save you?”

The speakers must be embedded into it because I can feel the air move as I gently hold my fingers in front of the long slit. I didn’t notice the figure in the corner of the room before, but Rowan brings attention to it as he presses the tip of his shiny loafer against the dead man’s chest. The guard I killed is in the room. I slowly look from the body to Lennox beside me.

“It’s been four days,” I whisper, but he doesn’t react.

They left him to rot in that room with the couple for four fucking days. The stench must be unbearable. My head swings back at the sounds of the screams. High-pitched and full of fear. Screams I’ve been the cause of before.

Rowan stands between the couple and the chains keeping them attached to the wall don’t rattle from how taut they are as the crackle of electricity fizzes through the speakers. The man spasms as a cattle prod is pressed to his throat, and the woman screams. She screams because one of the masked fucking guards zaps her inner thigh and her begging is too fucking similar to my own memories.

“Please, stop! Please!”

He doesn’t listen. They never do.

Sweat beads on my nape and the seat topples as I push back, watching that motherfucker push the handle of a cattle prod inside her. She screams louder, so fucking loud, and my heart batters against my ribs.

“Make it fucking stop!” Lennox doesn’t react. I grab the back of his chair to drag him back as I continue begging, “Get him to stop.”

He stretches forward and hits a button on the underside of the desk before he stands and holds my shoulders. My breathing is ragged. I need to rip my skin off, I need to get out of my fucking body, but the screams are still in the room. They mix with pained whimpers and bone cracking on concrete.

“Don’t cry here,” Lennox orders, holding my face in a tight grip between his palms. His features harden as he repeats, “Not here. Not in front of him, little shadow.”

Using the heel of his palm, he wipes my face and twists his shoulders, so I’m blocked from the door. It’s locked anyway. It’s not like I can fucking escape. He continues wiping my face in a panic and fucks with my head as he decides now is the best fucking time to be forthcoming with the shit he’s dragged me into.

“This is just the start, and he’s testing the guards. I need you to be strong for me.”

I’m going to throw up and my voice is too low, too fearful. “You said he trafficked people.”

Lennox nods, giving me a tight-lipped smile. “This is his world. He’s the creator, remember?”

I need to get the fuck out of this place. I’ll take the kid with me, and we’ll hide somewhere away from these sick cunts.

My uncle steps back to mute the monitors, silencing the sobbed whimpers when he sees that I’ve shut down. The door hisses, then clicks, and the sick fuck himself walks into the room, full of self-satisfaction and wearing a wide smile.

“Did you enjoy the preview, nephew?” Rowan asks.

I’m still until the door locks behind him. Rowan isn’t the creator of other people’s torment, but mine too. For some reason, I never thought killing him was possible because I’d never seen him. Now that I have, he’s human. He’s not an apparition, lore, or some scary story that has been made up.

That’s why I rush forward, my shoulder aching from the force of my arm swinging back. My fists slam into the steel door as weight slams into my side, knocking me off course. Rowan remains unaffected as I grab his fucking throat. The smile widens as he looks down his nose at my hand, then flicks his eyes up to meet mine. The weight around me tightens, a forearm pressed against my neck, pulling me back as I dig my fingers into the motherfucker’s neck.

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