Breaking the Bond

Malcolm

Standing at the front of a red door deep in the woods, a man kicked his heavy blacker biker boots forcing the heavy cabin door to open, splinters flying, he had no time to use the key again. He had been told his precious cargo would be here waiting for him. When he had arrived at the location a couple of months earlier he was bitterly disappointed to find both cabins completely empty. He had been so mad, furious even, at the thought that his source had got it wrong that he almost went on a murdering spree in the nearby town until he saw it. A simple kitchen knife lay on the unfurnished kitchen top and a torn bloodied shirt shoved into the dark corner. He couldn’t believe he had missed it the first night he got here, then again he saw the broken window and just went into a fit of rage. His precious cargo had found a friend. No doubt both had headed for the big city.

The large man strode heavy footed across the jetty to the furnished cabin where he now resided. He caught his reflection in the window, his shirt was stained red.

“Oh now that won’t come out in the wash and this is my favourite shirt”. He smirked, satisfied with his appearance. Opening the cosy cabin door he heard a soft whimper and he chuckled at the fear his mere presence brought. He stood at the entrance to the bedroom.

“Hello my dear, did you miss me”. A woman in her late fifties lay on the queen sized bed. Of course she could not answer, she was gagged. Her arms tied to the headboard, her ankles bound together and her clothes in a mess. Her face once happy and full of kindness now stained with tears and full of fear. From the smell, you could tell she had been bound to the bed for weeks and if the unnatural marks on her clothes had been any indication, she had not been given regular bathroom breaks.  She was the owner of this quaint little cabin that she decided to lease out to holiday makers or weary travellers on their way to Baal City. The terrified woman stared at the man, he was tall and leering in the door way. He was around the woman’s age but time had not been kind to the man or maybe his evilness shone through and made him grotesque.  As a young man some would have called him attractive, even handsome, his big build and wide shoulders meant he never had a lonely bed. He once owned a toned, muscular body but those had been lost, now his rotund stomach and undefined arms pushed against the fabric of his shirt. His beard was messy with grey whiskers sprouting through the black curls, his brow thick and heavy. His brown eyes dull and unforgiving. Yet what made him so grotesque was not any physical attribute but his pure hatred for any other living being. His cruelty to all and his thirst for power. From afar he was still attractive but here, up close, he was a demon. The epitomy of evil.

Under normal circumstances the man would not have kept the little woman alive for so long. He found prisoners to be a hindrance, easier to kill and move on but there was something about the woman that reminded him of his mother who had been murdered by rogue werewolves. His mother had the same kind eyes and delicate hands. He missed his mother.

“you won’t lie to me now would you dear?”. He started off all his taunts, his torture, of the poor woman in this manner. The woman sobbed, she knew what was coming and shook her head.

“The cabin opposite us, across the jetty, you have no idea where its latest resident went, which way?” She shook her head. “Pity”. He punctuated the word, making it sound like he was mocking her. His evil grin made her shiver. The questions had been the same each night and each night she answered honestly, she didn’t know the last residents of the other cabin, she didn’t even know who owned the cabin across the way but the man was obsessed. Now she was tired of the ritual. The lack of food was eating away at her, the thirst was driving her insane and the regular beatings were getting too much to bear.

Just before he continued with his questions, a loud beep came from his tight blue jeans. The evil man was in two minds to ignore the message. Then the phone vibrated and continued to vibrate. A telephone call. Fishing the mobile from his pocket he looked down at the flashing screen, number unknown. He let out a heavy sigh and looked up at the woman tied to the bed.

“Have to get this dear, don’t go anywhere will you?” He laughed at the woman’s pitiful state and exited the bedroom.

“Malcolm”. He always used his name as a greeting.

“Sir, its me”. A less confident voice returned.

“Hello Me, what do you want”. Malcolm knew this would throw the young man at the end of the phone.

“uummm…. No Sir its Keith”. Malcolm sighed.

“I know you i***t”. He rubbed his face. “What the hell is it, I haven’t got all night”.

“Ummm….so….sorry Sir….ummm…..I…I” Malcolm wanted to reach into the phone and strangle the man. “I…sssent you aaaaa photo. Its who you….you’ve been looking for”. Malcolm brought the phone from his ear and clicked to find the message. The young man on the other end describing the photo, a male and female. A still image from CCTV in the city.

“There you are”. Malcolm beamed at the photograph as he thought all was not lost. He held the phone back to his ear and told the man to send the coordinates of the CCTV, he needed to find out what pack the werewolf was from, this was far from over. His patience had worked in his favour. He walked back into the bedroom and the woman lay still on the bed. Malcolm was unsure if she was sleeping or if she had passed out, neither did he care. Instead he scrunched his large hand up into a fist, raised it and punched down on the woman’s thigh. Her muffled scream filled the room. Malcolm smirked, at least that got her attention.

He pulled out his pocket knife and cut the ties around her ankles, then her wrists before dragging her out of the bed. The woman weighed next to nothing from the constant starving over the weeks she had be held hostage. She stumbled on her feet, sobbing and pulling away but she was not strong enough for Malcolm to even notice her resistance. He dragged her out of the cabin, this was new for her. He pushed her to the edge of the jetty and across, abruptly stopping in the middle. He spun the little woman around, her eyes were pleading. He looked down at her and smiled, tucking a stray hair behind her ear, right before bringing the small pocket knife up to her throat, slicing it in one quick movement from ear to ear. Blood poured out as the woman stumbled, making choking noises. Malcolm watch on, his eyes full of amusement. Finally he grew bored watching the woman try to grab her bloody neck on her knees and he kicked her into the water.

He smiled at the sound of the splash, turned and walked back to the little cabin.

“Time to freshen up and hunt down this werewolf”.