Kay
The Collector - 2/? (*slash*)
For disclaimer and such, see part one.
Just wanted to say thanks to all of you who encouraged me to post more. I almost didn't post it,
because I thought it was too twisted.
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~KILLER'S POV~
The day seemed to drag on forever. Thoughts of him, laying there, tied up and helpless, and just
waiting for me to come home, made it practically impossible for me to concentrate at work.
Adam was finally mine. Yeah, I had slept with him before, but not like this. He is now at my
complete mercy.
Mercy. The word makes me laugh. I don't seem to have that particular emotion. When God made
me, he left one fatal flaw in my genetics. I have no conscience. I do what I want to do, when I
want to do it.
I smile to myself as I clock out, wasting no time in getting home to him. I wouldn't want him to
think that I had forgotten about him.
The ride home seems to take forever. I must have cussed out every driver in the whole city by
the time I arrived at my house. They really shouldn't allow such morons to drive on the freeway.
I totally understand road rage.
I race up the steps and curse myself as I fumble and drop my house keys. I try to compose
myself by taking a deep breath before I enter, but it's so hard when I'm so excited with the fact
that Adam is anxiously awaiting my return.
He's so beautiful. The softness of his skin really turns me on. Wonder how it will feel underneath
my fingers as I claim my final prize for my collection.
I have to adjust myself in my pants as I think about how beautiful Adam will be in my private
collection. He will be mine to admire forever and ever.
I shut the door behind me, locking all four locks. One thing about this neighborhood, you can't be
too careful. I don't want anyone walking in on Adam and me in one of our more private moments.
"Honey, I'm home," I call out to him.
I know he can hear my footsteps. Hell, he must be trembling by now.
There is nothing like the smell of fear.
I stand outside of his door, pressing my head against it, letting my long hair cascade around my
face as I reach for the white mask that hangs by the door.
Why a white mask you ask? To tell you the truth, I don't know. White is pure, something that I'll
never be. I've been a rebel for as long as I can remember. I've been what most people call a freak.
Always different. Finding beauty in the most disgusting things. I was too extreme for them. Well
fuck them! Who needs them? That's why I started my collection in the first place.
I sigh as I think about Adam. It's different with Adam. You see, I have certain feelings for him. I'd
hoped that we could have a normal relationship, but Adam blew it. He broke my heart. He proved
to me that he was just like the others. Weak and pathetic. All he wanted was sex.
I open the door slowly, knowing that it's scaring him even more. His soft whimpers making me
even more harder.
His body is trembling in anticipation. I lick my lips as I look at the feast that lies before me. Mine
for the taking.
"Please let me go," he whimpers as he looks up at me, his eyes red and swollen from crying all
day.
"Did you miss me?" I purr, disguising my voice slightly to hide my identity as I sit on the bed
beside of him, gently caressing his back. Looking at the scar, and pleased to find that it was
healing just fine.
He tenses as I touch him. He didn't use to tense when I touched him. He use to love it when I
massaged him from head to toe. I glance at his wrists and they are rubbed raw from his feeble
attempts to escape.
"Why are you doing this?" He asks softly, not really expecting an answer.
"Because I can," I say smiling. I'm pleased that he still doesn't know it's me.
~TEN MILES AWAY AT AN ABANDONED WAREHOUSE~
I've been on the force for ten years now, but even now, I can't get use to this shit.
The smell of death lingers in the air, causing a nauseous feeling in the pit of my stomach.
I stare at the body as it is slowly zipped inside of the black impersonal body bag.
The sixth victim of the so-called Collector. Sixth. God, how can someone do something like this?
The body is covered in bruises and cuts. The man must have went through hell before he was
finally killed. Was he awake and aware as the butcher started decapitating him?
The thought sends a shiver throughout my body. I shake my head. Such a horrible way to die.
I look at the pictures in my hand. The first is Adam Copeland, a young man missing since
yesterday. The second is Chris Jericho, the headless corpse that is being carted into the meat
wagon.
Fuck. Both men were exquisite.
How the hell does the killer choose his victims?
Both men are blond and extremely handsome, but from different worlds. Adam is a nurse,
studying to be a doctor. Chris was an exotic dancer.
What in the hell did they have in common?
I think back to the other victims. There has to be a connection. Something that I've missed.
If my calculations are correct, Adam had around a month to live. The killer varied from a month
to two months between victims. It depended on how much fun he had with them. Chris lasted
almost two months.
I couldn't chance it. I had to find Adam and quickly.
I glance at Chris' picture and then to Adam's. I would not let Adam end up like Chris. I had tried
to save Chris, but I had failed him. I could not fail Adam, too. By all that is sacred to me, Hunter
Helmsley, I swear to stop this senseless slaughter.
The clues were there. I just had to find them.
~TBC~
