Stalker - Clarissa Wild Page 0,23
endured for many years while being chained to that tyrant called Phillip.
It’s a real, metal barred cage.
I’m a prisoner in my own home with Phoenix Sullivan as my captor. Trapped inside with no way out.
CHAPTER 8
PHOENIX
She looks so pretty when she cries.
Mascara stains her cheeks, her eyes are watery, make-up lathering down her face, and there’s a delicious pout on her lips. I grab her face and squeeze, increasing the pout. Love the sight. Smiling, I ask, “How do you like your new surroundings?”
“Let me out,” she sputters.
I release her from my grip. “No can do.”
“You put me in a cage. A freaking cage!”
“Indeed.” I cock my head. “What a great observation you’ve made.”
She grabs the bars tight. “Are you insane?”
“Maybe.” I put my hands on my knees and bend so I can look into her eyes. “But I have you to thank for all of that.”
She makes a face. “I hate you.”
My lips curl up into a smile. “Aw, I hate you, too.”
She growls, tugging at the bars, but of course, it won’t help her. The cage shuts tight with a chain that only bolt cutters can snap. The metal doesn’t yield to human hands. It’s made specifically to hold a strong pet, except mine is a very specific kind of pet that needs to be constrained.
“I’m going to have so much fun with you,” I say, a grin spreading on my cheeks. “So many things and plenty of time to try them all out.”
“You won’t get away with this,” she says.
“I already have.”
She growls again, almost like a witch screeching for revenge. “Everyone will realize I’m gone, and when they do, the police will be at this doorstep in no time. And when they catch you, I’ll make sure you won’t get out ever again.”
“You forgot the part where they don’t know you’re stuck in this house.”
She frowns. “What are you talking about?”
“If they don’t have a reason for coming here, they won’t,” I say, as I turn around and rummage in my bag. I take out the laptop we stole back when I was still with the guys. I thought it would come in handy, and now it will. “And you’re going to make that happen.”
“Why?” She chuckles, almost as if she thinks I’m joking, but I’m not. “Why on earth would I help you keep me here as a prisoner in my own home?”
I smile at her as I start up the laptop and open a browser. “Because if you don’t, I’ll starve you, cut you, and keep your life within an inch of dying, only for you to have to experience it all over again.”
She swallows, visibly shaken as I bring the laptop close enough to the cage so she can type. “And if I do?”
“I’m still going to make you suffer,” I say. “Just a little less.”
The way I smile makes her cringe, and then she brings her fingers to the keyboard. “What do you want me to do?”
“Go to Facebook and log in. I’ll do the rest.”
I keep an eye on the things she types, so she won’t start making a post without my consent. After she logs in, I turn the laptop toward me and type a post about her going on vacation. I add some pictures that I pluck from the internet and post it. We then repeat the process for Twitter, Instagram, and even her email. Now that she’s set an ‘I’m on vacation, don’t expect a response’ auto-reply, I can be sure there won’t be anyone snooping around her house in the coming weeks.
“You can’t keep this up forever,” she says.
“I know, but for now, it’ll do.”
“If the guard has gone missing, they’ll notice soon enough,” she mutters.
“Oh, don’t worry about them. Getting this cage wasn’t the only thing I did when I left you here alone.”
Her eyes widen. “What did you do?”
“I got his body from the bushes, put him in his truck, and drove it off the road into the river.”
She gasps, taken aback by how simple I can speak about death. What can I say? Once you’ve done it enough, you grow numb to the feelings it’s supposed to invoke. I don’t care about life or death. It can be a blessing but also a curse.
Suddenly, she leaps toward the bars, like an animal desperate for more. “What about Arthur?” she asks.
“Well, after I stabbed him, I’m not sure he got very far. But when I came back out to find him, he was gone. Must’ve