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    Katya Dee
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.

The First Lock - 27. Part 2, chapter 7

- VII -

 

Brent stood away from the peephole, and Katrena gently knocked on the door several times. There was some movement inside, and finally, a careful voice called out:

“Who is it?”

“Open up, love, it’s cold out here.”

There was a rather long pause, and then:

“Who the fuck is it?”

“Oh,” she sighed with a giggle. “Petey, honey, open up! I am freezing my tush out here! I have the beer... Well...” she giggled again. “Not all of it... I had one on the way here...” She hiccupped. “Maybe, two.”

Brent smiled at that. At first, he offered to simply break down the door, which Katrena immediately refused. She didn’t want to make any noise, and she didn’t want Miller to panic and start shooting in their general direction. “Just leave it to me,” she said in a low voice. “He’ll be more than eager to open that door...”

The man on the other side of the door was silent.

“Petey,” she whined. “Just open the door! Crotchless panties are a bitch when it’s so cold outside! And you told me not to wear pantyhose! Open up, babe!”

Finally, she heard the rattling of the door chain, and then there was a dry ‘click’ of the lock. The door swung open, and there he was – the man whose face she could draw on a sheet of paper with her eyes closed. He was grinning ear to ear.

“I ain’t no Petey,” he said. “But come on in anyway...!”

His eyes narrowed the second he realized she had no beer in her hands, and that she was wearing jeans and black boots. His hand darted behind his back, but Katrena just laughed and slammed her fingers into the side of his neck. The man didn’t even blink. He simply collapsed onto the floor. Katrena kicked his body, making it roll farther into the apartment, and glanced at Brent.

“Welcome,” she said and went inside.

He followed, making sure they were unnoticed. That proved to be the case, so he walked inside the apartment and locked the door.

 

****

 

“Wakie-wakie,” she said almost half an hour later when Miller was gagged, handcuffed, and tied to his kitchen table. “Come on, sleepy head,” she purred, making sure that every single blind in the apartment was down. “Boy, you are lightweight,” she sighed. “Usually, they come about in fifteen minutes, give or take... Wake up, bitch!” she slapped his face hard, without even a hint of a smile in her voice this time.

He groaned around the gag and slowly opened his eyes. Then he jerked wildly, trying to free himself, only causing the ropes to dig even deeper into his body.

“Welcome back, you piece of shit,” Katrena said brightly. “Here is the sitch, Kevin Jacob Miller. The next thirteen hours are going to be very painful for you. Sometimes, it will feel beyond painful. I will make sure that you are fully conscious, and that you do not kick the bucket until we decide it’s time,” she glanced at Brent.

“Mmm rrr ooo...” he tried saying, almost choking on the gag. Katrena smiled without baring her teeth.

“We are the ghosts of Christmas past, Petey,” she said. “Violent ghosts,” she nodded. “Violent and very bloodthirsty. Remember that night in August when you shot a cop, you asswipe?” she leaned closer and his eyes widened. “He happened to be my man,” she purred, image of Julian Salamander popping up in her head immediately. “Also,” she continued. “He happened to be his...” she nodded at Brent, whose smile made Miller blink rapidly. “...best friend,” she finished.

Miller mumbled something, his body tensing under all those ropes, eyes even wider than a minute ago.

“I would say relax and enjoy it,” Brent said thoughtfully. “But I don’t think it’ll happen.”

She looked at her watch. It was 7:30 in the evening. It will be over at 8:30 in the morning. She nodded to herself and pulled a very slim blade out of her tall boot. Both of them – herself and Brent – wore matching thin gloves, and she didn’t worry much about getting bloodstains on her clothes. She knew how to make someone bleed without getting dirty herself.

“Now,” she said professionally, ignoring Miller’s terrified eyes. “This is how you cut skin without getting all those stains all over you...” She demonstrated the cut and Miller’s body jerked violently and he mooed into his gag, his wrists straining in the cuffs. “Would you like to try?”

“Would love it,” Brent nodded and took the blade out of her hand.

“Not bad,” she nodded with approval after Miller’s eyes rolled all the way back into his skull, his face paper-white. “Be careful and don’t cut too deep; you don’t want to hit a major artery because it will kill him too soon. Avoid the neck and stomach areas as well. Also, you don’t want him to bleed too much, because he’ll expire of blood loss. Here,” she took the blade away. “Let me show you several spots that can make a knife feel like a tickle of a feather...”

 

****

 

They left the apartment at 9:45 in the morning, making sure they didn’t leave any traces. Katrena shut the front door without locking it, and they slowly walked towards their cars. She felt dark satisfaction and hollow emptiness at the same time. Now there was nothing left. Nothing but memories. She glanced at Brent who was eerily quiet.

“Wanna have coffee?” she asked, and he looked at her, his eyes dark, face pale.

“Yeah,” he nodded slowly. “Let’s...”

“I’ll drive,” she said. “Come on!”

They got into her car, and ten minutes later, he asked:

“You’ve done this before, haven’t you?”

She threw a quick look at him. He was even paler now than ten minutes ago.

“Yes,” she nodded. “More than once,” she added after a few seconds.

“Ugh...” he said, and she frowned.

“You okay?”

“Mmmm...” was all he said, and his throat gurgled.

She immediately pulled to the side of the empty road and threw the gear into ‘park.’ He jerked the door open and jumped outside. She sat inside, listening to what sounded like extremely violent vomiting. Finally, after ten minutes or so, he got back inside, his hands shaking, face almost grey.

“Better?” she asked and handed him a bottle of water.

He took a gulp, swirled water inside his mouth for several seconds, and spat it outside. Took another gulp, swallowing this time, and shut the door.

“Yeah,” he breathed. “Let’s go.”

 

...She called Mandy at eleven in the morning, asking if it would be all right for her to get Damien around three in the afternoon. She smiled when she got the usual ‘Do you even have to ask?’ response and turned off her phone. Brent sat in the passenger’s seat of her car, his face not as white as it was half an hour ago.

“What are you going to do now?” he asked without looking away. She shrugged.

“Go home and take a hot shower. You?”

“Same,” he nodded. “I’ll probably stay in the shower until midnight,” he added after a minute.

“I would too, but I have to get Damien at three,” she smiled weakly. “I promised him Dairy Queen tonight.”

“Get him a hell of a Blizzard,” he said seriously, and she nodded.

“That’s the plan,” she said, and he finally smiled.

“I’ll see you Monday?”

“Yeah,” she nodded again. “I will see you Monday...”

“Take care, Kat,” he briefly squeezed her fingers before getting out of the car.

“Later, Brent,” she returned the squeeze and watched him walk towards his car.

 

****

 

...She lifted her face, enjoying hot water on her skin, when she felt the back of her eyelids burning. She frowned and opened her eyes. Then, all of a sudden, a waterfall of tears burst through without any warning, and she collapsed onto her knees, sobbing loudly under cascading water. She could finally cry.

 

END OF PART 2

©Katya Dee; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
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Chapter Comments

Julian Salamander was a very apt thought for the work they did on the now late Mr Miller. I hope Brent will be alright. Regardless of the justice of their actions, not everyone can handle the weight of it. I wonder what Brent thinks of Kat now? He would really be freaked to know Damien knew what they were up to and approved.

Looking forward to Part three.

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4 hours ago, drpaladin said:

 He would really be freaked to know Damien knew what they were up to and approved.

Curious: why do you believe Damien knows? He can’t read minds.

I would go back and reread the last couple chapters to see what you see, but they’re too painful.

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17 minutes ago, Geemeedee said:

Curious: why do you believe Damien knows? He can’t read minds.

I would go back and reread the last couple chapters to see what you see, but they’re too painful.

Damien asked Kat if she was going to hurt the man who killed Paul, this was as she was leaving. She told him yes and he said , "Good."

He may not read minds, but he's very smart and he might be an empath. If you're an empath, you don't need to read minds.

 

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2 minutes ago, drpaladin said:

Damien asked Kat if she was going to hurt the man who killed Paul, this was as she was leaving. She told him yes and he said , "Good."

OH YEAH! Thank you.

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