Page 4 of Scar

I was hoping he was remorseful, I was hoping that he was at least upset that his only child is dead at nineteen years old. She never got to live. From what I researched about her, she had a work from home job. She never interacted with the outside world, she moved every year, she didn't have her name on her door, she didn't even have her real name on her mail. She was so terrified of running into her dad that she basically died the day she ran away from home. I hate that for her. I hate that I couldn't save her. But I will avenge her.

When Sam heads into the kitchen to grab a new pack of cigarettes, I spike his beer with the lorazepam I had brought with me. I know how much it should take with a man his size, but I double it anyway.

If this fucker wakes up halfway back to Houston and pukes in my car I'm killing him right on the spot. I don't have the patience to deal with paying to get my car detailed. I guess my secretary could schedule it for me? Why am I thinking about this right now?

Fuck, my head has been all over the place for the lately. I tell myself it's because things have been hectic and I've been waiting to meet Sam, but I know it's that young hippie girl from the cafe. I know it's because I'm wondering what she's doing, where she's at, does she have a boyfriend? She better not have a boyfriend. Is she a student? I wonder what she is majoring in. She looks like she'd major in art history or something like that. She looked like the kind of girl that likes art. Maybe I should start to learn more about art? Fuck, no. Focus.

It takes far too long for this asshole to finally pass out, pissing me off even more. I'm going to have to throw this outfit away. I'm sure the stench of this place is going to seep into my clothes, fuck, it's going to make my car stink too. God dammit. I hate this guy even more now.

I drag Sam outside, thankful that he lives at the end of the trailer park and that the several ones around his are all vacant. I hogtie him, hoping if he wakes up he's humiliated, and I duct tape his mouth. I make sure it's a little too tight, digging into his skin as I wrap layers upon layers of the thick gray tape around his entire head. I basically mummify this fuckers entire head, only leaving his nose open so he can breathe. I don't want him dying in my car. That's too much hassle for me to deal with.

Now, let's go home Mr. Sam Fredrick.

Chapter 5

Leon's POV

I didn't get home until late in the night. I wasted my whole day for this asshole. He's not even worth the energy that it took to drive all the way to Arlington, but Denise is. She was young, from the looks of her grades she would have had a bright future ahead of her. If she had come to me sooner, she still could have had that. But this asshole stripped that from her.

It's times like these when I'm thankful I live in the middle of nowhere. I own a ranch on the outskirts of town, I have several acres to myself, and I have no neighbors within at least a mile. It's quiet, I need quiet. I deal with too many people during the day to be okay with living almost on top of someone else.

I park in my garage, opening the trunk to see my guest of honor is still out cold. Good, I hate when they struggle so soon. I lift this smelling, fat drunk out of the trunk, tossing him into the wheelchair I keep for this very reason. Some of these people are way too heavy for me to lug around, I'm not throwing my back out for these fuckers. I'm thirty-four years old, and I'd prefer not to be in a wheelchair by forty-five, thank you.

I wheel him into the door that leads straight to my basement, pushing him out of the wheelchair. I watch as he tumbles down the steps, laughing to myself. That would probably hurt if he was awake. I fell down these steps once when I first moved in. I was drunk, I about broke my fucking neck doing it, too. This is why I have a ranch style house, the only stairs I'm willing to deal with are to the basement.

I get Sam Fredrick stripped naked and strapped into the metal autopsy table in the basement, removing the duct tape off of his face. I want to know when he wakes up, but I'm not sitting down here waiting. Fuck that, I'm starving and I want a shower. So, instead I turn on the cameras, having my phone set to alert me if there's any movement. He can't move much, just enough to alert the sensors. But it's good enough for me.

I head upstairs, stripping my clothes as soon as I get into my utility room. I am not walking into my house in these stinking ass clothes. I should burn them, but these are nice pants. I'll just wash them by themselves. Hopefully that'll do it. I load the washer with my entire outfit, dumping in some vinegar and some laundry soap. If that doesn't get rid of the smell, I will throw this outfit away, but I hope it doesn't get to that.

I love where I live, I live in a massive ranch in the middle of nowhere. I have more bedrooms than I actually need, I have a massive kitchen that would make any home chef jealous, I have a gorgeous view of the fields and a little bit of mountains in the distance, and my living room has a fireplace. Not a lot of homes in Texas have a massive fireplace that actually works, it's far too hot here for that. But I like to be prepared, we've had a few surprise cold waves here, leaving thousands without safe refuge or electricity. I will not be one of them.

My entire house is powered by solar and wind energy that I create, so I actually make money on my energy bill every month. But I also have the ability to switch to grid power, I even have a generator that can run on gas in case an emergency arises. See? Prepared. The only complaint I have about this house is that the sun rises right into my bedroom windows. Nothing curtains can't fix. I just keep forgetting to buy a set that will match the house.

I take an overly hot shower, scrubbing every inch of myself with soap and water a little too hot. But I need to get the stench of cigarettes, cat piss, and cheap beer off of me.

How the fuck did that house smell like cat piss when there wasn't a single cat in sight? I checked! I even opened a fucking can of tuna and hid outside to make sure a cat wasn't hiding because I was a stranger.

But just to be safe, I opened all the canned meat in the house and left the front door open. If there is some super secret cat, it will at least be able to get out. I'm not a monster, I'm not going to let an animal suffer when I can avoid it.

When I'm confident that I no longer smell like hot trash, I head out into my kitchen in clean clothes, ready to cook some dinner. I'm not sure if I have the energy for this, but I've eaten a little too much takeout the last few days. It's giving me a headache and I feel sluggish in the gym. So, I prepare myself some creamy balsamic pasta with feta and ribeye steak, pour myself a glass of wine and have a seat at the kitchen table.

I like living alone, I like being alone. But I can't help but to wish that the young woman from the cafe was here with me. Not like she'd even eat what I prepared. But for her? I'd make whatever she wanted, no problem. I bet it would involve micro greens or tofu.

This Sam guy has excellent timing, as soon as I sit down with my wine and food, my phone alerts that this asshole has woken up. Normally, I would get up and go visit my guest. But I'm not quite in the mood to let my dinner get cold. He can wait.

By the time I get downstairs, Sam has been awake for almost an hour. He's yelling and thrashing in his restraints. That's not going to be enough and I hope he's figured that out by now.

I give him a warm smile when I see him, the same one I gave him when he answered the door at his home. "You're awake, good." I say calmly. No surprise, this asshole immediately starts yelling. "Where the fuck am I? You won't get away with this!" He yells. I laugh, crossing my arms across my chest. "You're at my house. It only seemed fair since you welcomed me in your home that I welcome you in mine. Don't you agree?" I ask.

I almost roll my eyes when this guy just starts yelling for me to let him go. Why do they always beg? It's so pathetic. At some point, waking up on a cold metal table in a soundproof basement, they should realize that begging doesn't do anything. But I do have to admit, I love the look on their face when they finally give up hope. "We're going to have a little chat, Sam. If you lie to me, you're going to regret it. I would advise you not to lie to me." I say calmly.

This man, this asshole, attempts to spit on me. A lot of them do that, too. "We will try this again in a few hours. But you're smelling up my basement." I say, wrinkling my nose up at him. If he's going to spit on me, he's not going to stink up the place while doing so. I grab the hose I have attached to the waterline down here, sometimes I need to wash this room, it's easier if I don't have to do it with a fucking mop and bucket.

No surprise, this fucker screams while I spray him. The water isn't even hot. The fuck is he so mad about? If anything, it would be cold. This entire room is cold, I like it that way. I hate breaking a sweat when I kill.

Ihosehim down until I'm certain that the smell is gone, letting the brown water from layers of cigarette smoke and dirt wash down the drain on the table. "I'll be back." I tell him, walking away from him for a little while. I am not willing to sit here and stare at this idiot naked on my table until he's willing to speak with me. I should've left his boxers on. But in case he admits to having raped his daughter, I need them off.

I revisit my guest a few hours later, he seems more docile now. "Ask." He says as soon as I walk in the door. I smile at him, taking a seat a few feet away. "Denise. What did you do to her? And don't lie to me." I remind him. I don't know the whole story, but I know the small snippet I learned from the police report and from Denise's consultation.