all in the same situation.”
“Did they keep them in cages or what?”
“Lisa said the men had some kind of setup in a warehouse they specifically renovated to hold their victims captive. All the women were kept in one room but in different cells. There were four men total, with Richard being the one giving the orders. Most of the time, they only took one woman, but sometimes each man would take a woman out for himself. She said the hardest thing about it wasn’t when they tortured her; it was witnessing the torture of others. The poor girl still has nightmares where she wakes up swearing she’s still hearing the other women’s screams.”
Evelyn pauses for a bit and visibly shudders before she asks, “What are you planning on doing if you find these guys?”
It’s the first time she has come right out and asked me, and it catches me off guard. Luckily, I’ve given some thought to how I’d answer should the need arise, and I’m able to respond.
“I am hoping we can find another live victim, one that will be willing to testify, and we can see these guys behind bars where they belong.”
“Well, I’m looking forward to that day.”
“I am too.” I look at her as I get up to leave and speak.
“Hey, do me a favor and keep an eye on my office.”
“Do you think someone has been in here?”
“No,” I lie. “I just don’t want to take any chances.”
I wait until she leaves and take a good look at the doorframe and lock, though I doubt it will tell me anything. Even I can see it wouldn’t take much more than a credit card to break in. Installing a deadbolt on my hospital office door isn’t something that’s ever crossed my mind before, but I’m living in my husband’s world now. In other words, it’s time to up security.
Melanie
I’ve been on pins and needles about seeing the kill room all day long. Now that I am pulling into the wooded area and the gravel is crunching beneath my tires, my excitement wanes.
There’s something very hair-raising about this place. The tree branches loom over the roof of my car like a canopy, blocking out the moonlight and adding to the eeriness of this remote location. It’s like they’re alive, beckoning me to proceed down the long gravel road. Instinctively, I want to turn around and get the hell out of here, but I feel powerless against the energy of the place pulling me in. I know the creepy factor is getting to me because my pulse is racing. When your heart is pounding so hard that you can hear the blood rushing in your ears, that’s when you know you’re scared. It’s easy to see why my husband has chosen this place. It’s completely desolate and so deeply entrenched in the forest, his victim’s screams are guaranteed to go unheard. I keep driving but have to suppress a shiver of unease. I almost feel like this secluded place could be haunted. Even as I chastise myself for the silly thought, my gut is still telling me there’s a supernatural presence here—something very dark and sinister, yet compelling. It’s suddenly very clear to me how someone could become hooked on the excitement of the kill. Just driving into this place is stirring something inside me I have never felt before. It’s pulling me in, tempting me, and I know there’s no turning back. Even though I have yet to kill, I have reached the point of no return. Some phantom of darkness has dug its talons into my soul, wanting to use me as a tool to maim and kill, and it has no intention of letting go. In a flash of clairvoyant insight, I know that once I get a taste of exacting vengeance, I will be just as addicted as my husband. I console myself with the knowledge that we are doing what no one else has the courage to do. We’re leveling the playing field for those who have been victims of crime.
No matter how many times I peer back behind the trees to assure myself there’s nothing there, I still find that I’m scared, fearful that ghosts from the past are watching me.
“Did they keep them in cages or what?”
“Lisa said the men had some kind of setup in a warehouse they specifically renovated to hold their victims captive. All the women were kept in one room but in different cells. There were four men total, with Richard being the one giving the orders. Most of the time, they only took one woman, but sometimes each man would take a woman out for himself. She said the hardest thing about it wasn’t when they tortured her; it was witnessing the torture of others. The poor girl still has nightmares where she wakes up swearing she’s still hearing the other women’s screams.”
Evelyn pauses for a bit and visibly shudders before she asks, “What are you planning on doing if you find these guys?”
It’s the first time she has come right out and asked me, and it catches me off guard. Luckily, I’ve given some thought to how I’d answer should the need arise, and I’m able to respond.
“I am hoping we can find another live victim, one that will be willing to testify, and we can see these guys behind bars where they belong.”
“Well, I’m looking forward to that day.”
“I am too.” I look at her as I get up to leave and speak.
“Hey, do me a favor and keep an eye on my office.”
“Do you think someone has been in here?”
“No,” I lie. “I just don’t want to take any chances.”
I wait until she leaves and take a good look at the doorframe and lock, though I doubt it will tell me anything. Even I can see it wouldn’t take much more than a credit card to break in. Installing a deadbolt on my hospital office door isn’t something that’s ever crossed my mind before, but I’m living in my husband’s world now. In other words, it’s time to up security.
Melanie
I’ve been on pins and needles about seeing the kill room all day long. Now that I am pulling into the wooded area and the gravel is crunching beneath my tires, my excitement wanes.
There’s something very hair-raising about this place. The tree branches loom over the roof of my car like a canopy, blocking out the moonlight and adding to the eeriness of this remote location. It’s like they’re alive, beckoning me to proceed down the long gravel road. Instinctively, I want to turn around and get the hell out of here, but I feel powerless against the energy of the place pulling me in. I know the creepy factor is getting to me because my pulse is racing. When your heart is pounding so hard that you can hear the blood rushing in your ears, that’s when you know you’re scared. It’s easy to see why my husband has chosen this place. It’s completely desolate and so deeply entrenched in the forest, his victim’s screams are guaranteed to go unheard. I keep driving but have to suppress a shiver of unease. I almost feel like this secluded place could be haunted. Even as I chastise myself for the silly thought, my gut is still telling me there’s a supernatural presence here—something very dark and sinister, yet compelling. It’s suddenly very clear to me how someone could become hooked on the excitement of the kill. Just driving into this place is stirring something inside me I have never felt before. It’s pulling me in, tempting me, and I know there’s no turning back. Even though I have yet to kill, I have reached the point of no return. Some phantom of darkness has dug its talons into my soul, wanting to use me as a tool to maim and kill, and it has no intention of letting go. In a flash of clairvoyant insight, I know that once I get a taste of exacting vengeance, I will be just as addicted as my husband. I console myself with the knowledge that we are doing what no one else has the courage to do. We’re leveling the playing field for those who have been victims of crime.
No matter how many times I peer back behind the trees to assure myself there’s nothing there, I still find that I’m scared, fearful that ghosts from the past are watching me.
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