GABRIEL (Killer Book 2) (10 page)

"As I grew up I realized, though imperfectly, that I was different from other people, and that the way of life in my home was different from that in the homes of others... this stimulated me to introspection and strange mental questionings."

-John Haigh

“Gabriel. Thank you for meeting with me.” Dr. Gnosh says as I exit my car.

I look towards the gargantuan grey, brick building that stands in the distance, “What is this place?”

She smiles kindly as she turns and gestures for me to follow her, “Dorphin’s Mental Hospital. I believe that I’ve found someone who can help you.”

As we walk down the white halls, I watch the people. One is a woman with knotted hair, she walks around aimlessly with a doll. Another is a man who smiles and waves at us like he’s a small child.

I assume any ‘normal’ person would be frightened as they walk through this place. Not me. I feel a tug at my heart when I realize that this is where someone like me belongs, in the land of the crazies.

“Here we are.” Dr. Gnosh says.

She opens the door and I follow her inside.

An older man sits behind a large, mahogany desk. He looks over the manila folder that he’s holding and quickly puts it down.

“Ah, Maura. So nice to see you, this must be Gabriel.”
She smiles as her kind eyes find mine, “This is. Gabriel, this is Dr. Branson.”

I nod as I reach out and shake his hand, “It’s nice to meet you.”

He gestures towards the two chairs on the opposite side of his desk before he sits back down.

Steepling his hands, he leans forward. “I understand that you have questions.”

I look towards Dr. Gnosh before my eyes find his once more, “I want to find a cure. You may have heard of my father, Gabriel Thibault.”

He nods, “The house of horrors.”

“Yeah.” I breathe out.

“And you believe that you’ve inherited his madness?”

I nod.

He leans back and rests his hands over his stomach, “It isn’t unusual for you to feel this way. Many people obsess over the idea that they may have inherited their parent’s disorder. Now the real question is, have you had any desires that are out of the ordinary? Have you hurt anyone or have you wanted to?”
Yes
.

I swallow the lump in my throat. “No.”

He smiles. “Well that’s a start. We’re going to run some tests if that’s okay.”
I nod haltingly, “Of course.”

“We’ll start with some questions first.”

He follows with a series of questions, and he checks off the list with each answer. Do I lack empathy, am I a pathological liar, and am I a sadist? Of course, I answer the most honest way that I can. Other than spilling out the truth; I have killed. I have caused harm to others.

Even if I tell myself that it’s for the benefit of them… that they aren’t victims. They wanted to die… the fact that I’m a murderous monster is glaringly obvious – to me, nobody else.

Dr. Branson clears his throat as he places the clipboard on his desk, “Gabriel, do you ever feel insignificant? Do you ever feel like you’re simply not enough?”

I nod, “Yes.”

“And as far as empathy, do you feel like you turn it on and off like a switch, or is it just simply not there?”
I clear my throat before responding, “It’s not a switch. Sometimes it runs so deep that… that I feel their pain.”
“Whose pain, Gabriel?”

I lean back in my chair, “Anybody’s. They could be at a bus stop, or in a bar. I can see when they’re hurting, and I want to help.”
My words aren’t lies. They’re true. I want nothing more than to help them all. The killing is a temporary bandage for me, but salvation for them. Of course, I can’t tell him or Dr. Gnosh that. They’d never understand.

He watches me momentarily before standing, “Do you mind if we try something?”
“Yes, of course. Anything.”

He nods as he walks to the back of the office and gestures to an armchair with a projector beside it, “Take a seat.”

I get up and make my way to the chair before sitting and gripping the armrests.

“I’m going to measure your brainwaves. I’d like to see how you react to these images. They are intended to invoke a response. Generally, psychopaths will not have the typical response of disgust or fear or happiness. You say that you feel an unusual amount of empathy for others, I want to see what your triggers are. Sound good?”

I nod as he sticks the EEG cap over my head.

The projector begins humming when he clicks it on and slides the first picture into place.

It’s a picture of a woman and child. They appear to be from a third world country. The mother has sadness in her eyes as she holds onto the clearly malnourished child.

Next, he shows a man with his hands in his pockets while he stands over a grave.

One after the other, he goes through the pictures as he examines the results. When we are done, he removes the cap.

“Very strange. Very strange indeed.”

“What?” I ask as he leans against the wall across from me and crosses his arms.

“You definitely act with a normal response to some of the slides. For example, you reacted with overt empathy when you observed sadness. However, you show no emotion when morbid or happy pictures were shown. This is strange. Generally, psychopaths and sociopaths do not regard others like you have, yet you responded to the other pictures much like a psychopath or a sociopath would. Very interesting.”

I shake my head, “What does that mean?”
He sighs as he approaches his desk once more. I walk across the room and sit beside Dr. Gnosh.

“To be honest, I’m not sure. Not yet. I’d like to meet with you again. Dr. Gnosh, could you forward me his records?”

“Of course.”

He smiles at me as he reaches into his drawer and slides a business card across the desk, “Call me anytime. I’ll go ahead and plan on next Thursday, if that’s alright.”
“Thanks.” I respond as I take the card.

“What does this mean, Doc?” I ask Dr. Gnosh as we walk back towards our cars.

She shakes her head, “We can’t be sure yet, Gabriel. This isn’t my specialty – you need more in depth therapy to find out where you fall on the spectrum. That’s why I wanted you to meet with Dr. Branson, he’s one of the best.”

“Am I still going to see you?”

She smiles as she turns to face me, “I’m afraid not. I want you to get over this bump. I truly do, but I’m afraid that I’m not the one that can help you do that.” She places a hand over my arm. “And you will, Gabriel. People with your disorder lead normal lives every day. You’ve got to want it badly enough. I know that you do. You need to try dating or going to social events, give normal life a try. Quit secluding yourself, you may find that you enjoy it, maybe not – but at least you would have tried.  You’re not your father. You may see him in your reflection, but it’s what is in here that counts.” She pauses and taps my forehead with her index finger and then she taps my chest over my heart, “And here. Take care of yourself.”

The fire spreads warmth across the living room as I kneel down and light the candle in the center of the square coffee table.

I have the wine in an ice bucket along with the two crystal glasses. I’ve got a platter full of cheeses, crackers and grapes.

I sigh as I stand and look over the table. It looks perfect.

Dammit. What in the fuck am I doing?

Giving normal life a try.

But what in the fuck is normal about this? Dani is my captive. I will have to eventually say goodbye to her like all of the others… don’t I?

I look across the room and see Bailey’s ice blue eyes locked onto the platter of food.

“Bailey, stay.”
His eyes flit from me to the platter once more before he lays his head on his paws and sighs.

I smile at him before turning and making my way up the stairs.

"It tries to think for me. It says it will kill me if it gets me."

-Kenneth Erskine

I exhale as I look over my reflection. He stopped in and gave me this black dress. It’s sleeveless and ends right above my knees. He also gave me some black heels to match along with a little bag of makeup. I’m not sure what he’s up to, but my heart flutters in anticipation.

I turn and look over my back. The scars are a light pink from the lashings, and I still have puncture wounds from the hooks.

I still crave his touch. Whether it’s painful or tender, his hands are my salvation. I wish that I could say that I have simply succumbed to Stockholm syndrome, but it is so, so much more complicated than that.

Over the time that I’ve been here, he’s brought out a raging river of emotions within myself. As the feelings collided, they became their own monster. The thing that he’s created within my soul isn’t anything but that, and it seems that the more that I hate him, the more that I’ve come to love him as well.

The day that I turned seventeen, my father vanished. I felt so alone. The world was such a new place when he wasn’t there to hold me down. It was scary. I was like a brand new calf, wobbling on unsteady legs as life shone around me. For the first time in my life, there were no beatings and no closets, but I missed him. Even after everything he’d done. After seventeen years of surviving, I thought that my escape would be different. However, the one that had trapped me for all of those years was also the one who had abandoned me, and it stung. I had always longed for his affection, for his love and acceptance – but then, any hope that I had was yanked from my fingertips as I tried to hold on.

So, I did the only thing that took my mind away from the madness. I sewed, I designed, and I created a name for myself. I was sick of being referred to as “that poor, abused girl”. I wanted to detach myself from that life, because I didn’t want my father to define me.

I also punished myself in the process. He created a self-loathing masochist.

I didn’t date, I wouldn’t allow a man to touch me. I’m twenty-two, and the only other person that I’ve ever slept with was my father who raped me repeatedly. How
sad
is that? How
sick
is that?

I just couldn’t allow myself to get close to anyone, because even my own mother ran away from me. She simply didn’t care, and I figured that if my own mother couldn’t care about me, then neither could anyone else.

But Gabriel, with his conflicting eyes and his powerful hands, he can love me. He may not yet, but he’s broken, just like me. We each have tiny fragments of our broken hearts spread throughout our fractured souls. We can help each other piece together the pieces.

The door creaks open, and my eyes find his.

“You look beautiful.” He says quietly as he approaches me.

I smile when he places his fingers under my chin. “Thank you.”
As I look into his eyes, I see apprehension. It seems that this is out of the ordinary for him.

“What are we doing?” I whisper into the inch of space between our lips.

His lips curl up slightly as he runs his thumb over my chin, “A date. I’m afraid that I selected the food and the wine.”

I nod. “Alright.”

He grabs my hand and leads me down the stairs. My eyes light up when I see the cozy fire glowing. A candle is in the center of the table, and there are chocolate covered strawberries, cheese, crackers and wine.

I am so transfixed on the setting that I don’t realize that he’s left my side. A chill runs down my spine when I feel the soft petals of a rose move up my arm and then to my collarbone.

“Thank you.” I say softly as I take the rose from him.

I hiss when a lone thorn pricks my thumb.

Gabriel immediately grasps my hand and takes my thumb into his mouth. He gently sucks the blood from the wound, his eyes never leaving mine.

When he removes my finger, he presses it to his lips. “I want to taste everything that you have to offer me, Dani. Your blood, your mouth, your skin…” He leans in and whispers into my ear, “Your pussy.”

I gasp as I press my chest against his. His mouth lingers above my ear, and his breaths fall over my neck.

“Come.” He murmurs, taking my hand in his, he leads me to the table.

I curl my legs under me as I sit beside the coffee table.

“Bailey, go.” He says, and the husky hops up and immediately leaves us.

I smile as I watch his wagging tail disappear into the kitchen. “He’s a good dog.”

Gabriel sits beside me and begins pouring our wine. “He is.”
Handing me my glass, he holds his up. “Should we toast?”
I watch as his brow furrows. It’s as if he’s expecting rejection at any time.

“To you and I, two lost souls.” I say.

He tilts his head as I clink my glass against his and take a sip.

He doesn’t drink his.

He sighs as he places his glass on the table and wraps his arms around his knees.

I place my glass beside his and scoot a little closer. “Did I say something?”

He chuckles as he shakes his head, “Don’t compare me to you. I’m not lost.”
Sighing, I place my hands in my lap and bow my head.

“You keep pushing me away.”

He laughs. “Pushing you away? You’re a captive in my home. You should be in the dungeon, just like the others.”

I shake my head as my eyes meet his. “You took me from my home and brought me here. I didn’t… choose this.”
I see his jaw tense. “I did, didn’t I? I’m a fucking monster, yet I get you wet. Don’t I? I bet you’re dripping wet when you think of me burying myself in you. Do you think about my mouth? Do you think about what it would feel like if I licked your clit until you came?”

Tears are now streaking my face. My heart stings as he spits his venom at me.

“Answer me!” He roars, making my entire body jump.

“Yes.” I choke out between sobs.

“What was that? I can’t hear you Dani.” He growls.

My eyes snap to his as he crawls over me, his nose brushing against mine. “What does that make you?”

I grit my teeth as my back slowly meets the soft rug below me, “A monster. Just like you.”
He nods slowly. “That’s right. A monster, just like me.”

His lips find mine and I sigh as his touch relieves the anger that’s he’s invoked. He reaches behind me and begins unzipping the dress, my back arches as he pulls it from my body. I’m trembling with need as he runs his hand over my chest, I’m sure that he can feel my rapidly beating heart beneath his touch.

“Your skin flushes when I touch you.” He pauses as his fingers drift over the valley of my breasts, “Right here.”

He leans down and peppers kisses along my collarbone, causing a moan to roll off of my lips.

“You’re so small and fragile, Dani.” He murmurs against my skin as his lips descend to my nipples, where he licks and sucks gently. I feel like his touch alone will make me rip apart at the seams, but he doesn’t stop there.

He leaves a trail of kisses until he’s where I long for him the most.

“You’re so strong. But when you’re with me, your inhibitions vanish. You revert back to that poor little girl, except you would trade love for pain, so long as I can make you feel. I will make you feel in more ways than one, Dani.”

I gasp when he lowers his mouth onto my clit, taking it into his mouth, he swirls his tongue round and round. Our eyes never leave each other’s as I reach down and bury my fingers into his hair, keeping him close. I want to push him away, yet pull him closer. I want to crawl inside of him.

He is my devil, and I am his servant. His darkness is swallowing me whole, and if I have to live the rest of my life in the nether, so be it.

The connection that we have is vile and wrong on so many different levels. My old life claws at my mind, but my new one chases it off.

“Gabriel.” I rasp as he sinks his large finger into my opening, his tongue continuing to make my body feel as though it’s on fire.

When he hooks his finger within the walls of my pussy, I explode around him as a scream escapes my tongue.

I need him now more than ever. Though my body is spent, I want him
now
. I want him
close
. I want him
mine
.

It’s as if he reads my mind because he quickly crawls back over me as my desperate fingers rip at his clothes. I want him bare, his skin against mine. I want him to fuck me hard with no restraint. I want to feel his cock fill me entirely, and his come bathe me as he claims me.

His eyes take on a dangerous look when he grips my wrists and presses them into the rug above my head.

“I’m in charge.” He says. Without any warning, he grips my hips and flips me onto my stomach, causing a breath to sharply escape my lungs.

“On your hands and knees. Lie your cheek on the floor and place your hands behind your back.”

I do as he says and listen anxiously as he removes his belt. He wraps the leather around my wrists, and I flinch when he cinches it harshly, pinching my skin.

“Did that hurt?”

I nod slowly and a shiver shoots down my spine when he kisses my lower back, “Good.”

I hear his zipper and my body becomes rigid as I await his intrusion. I jolt forward when he slams into me without warning.

“Oh God!” I holler as I press into him impulsively. He’s a large man, and it hurts, but I want him completely. Any discomfort is a reminder of the man that’s behind me, making me his.

There is no true pleasure without a little pain, and I would give him every ounce of my pain.

I gasp when he tangles his fist in my hair, lifting my upper body from the ground as he uses it as leverage to fuck me relentlessly.

I can barely make out any words from the impact of his thrusts and from the multiple orgasms that erupt within my body.

“Fuck!” He growls, digging his fingers into my hip. I can feel him growing wider, stretching me further as he gets closer to his release.

When he does, he roars behind me as he stills himself.

He pulls me up and holds me to him as we fall to our sides. He undoes my hands and I turn to face him, burying my face into his chest. I close my eyes as I listen to his heart beat wildly.

Our limbs tangle, and he holds my head against him protectively.

Soon after, the beating of his heart lulls me to sleep.