Page 61 of Requiem & Reverie

Trailing my gaze over the room shows shelving units overflowing with plants and flowers. A bed is set off to the right of me, and beyond it, a wooden workbench. Against the wall stands what appears to be a kiln, though it’s difficult to make out in the shadows.

The chill thick on the air and concrete floors tells me it isn’t a house, but some kind of outdoor structure. A pole barn, maybe. That’d make sense in the country.

Where did he take me, though?

And more importantly, where is Oliver?

“Hello, Nola.” The sound of Simon’s voice skates up my spine, and I can’t seem to get enough air through the tube.

My eyes bounce back and forth, looking for him in the darkness.

“I know, I know. It’s a lot to take in. I imagine you have a million questions running through your head right now.” A figure steps into the halo of light, and my eyes widen at his appearance.

Head to toe, his body shines with a layer of black latex. Only his lips are visible through the mask that clings to his skull like a second skin. If I didn’t recognize his voice, I doubt I’d identify him as Simon.

My gaze lowers to his cock, also sheathed in black latex, sticking out from his thighs.

Oh, God, no. Not this.

“You’re a good girl for coming alone this time. I was afraid you’d break my rules twice, and then I’d have to take my frustrations out on Oliver. He misses you, you know.” He grabs hold of himself, mindlessly toying with his cock as he talks to me about my son. “Perhaps you’re wondering if he’s still alive. The answer is yes. And he will remain that way, so long as you cooperate and play along with me. Can you do that?”

I give an emphatic nod, letting out a shaky exhale.

He’s alive. My son is still alive! The joy of that is more than I can handle and with tears in my eyes I let out a relieved giggle.

So long as Oliver remains safe, Simon can do whatever he wants to me.

Simon’s lips stretch to a smile. “This is what I love about you, Nola. Not only are you a caring and vigilant mother, but you appreciate such simple joys. You’d be surprised how many children are left alone, unattended, but you …. Even when you’re working, you make the effort to watch him closely, with your brother, and your sister-in-law. Voss,” he adds with derision, as if the name alone leaves an acrid taste on his tongue. “It was nearly impossible for me to get my hands on the boy this whole time.”

As he prattles on, my mind races with scenarios. If I can gain his trust, he might release me. My gaze swings back to the workbench, where below the desktop, on the floor, a box carries grisly looking tools I hope he doesn’t plan to use on me. I’m guessing, with the proximity of his stuffed animals, they’re used for taxidermy.

Perhaps I can get to those.

“I intend to retire after you, Nola. No more women. I’ve sown my seed, fucking all variety, but I will only offer my precious nectar to you. You will be my first. Do you understand the magnitude of this gift?”

The thought of such a thing repulses me, but I nod to appease him. To get him to release me.

“That’s good. You know, my mother used to tell me that no woman was ever good enough for me. No woman would ever be worthy of my seed.”

Acids burn my sinuses as a round of bile shoots up my throat, and I swallow it back before it expels through the tube. This man is seriously fucked in the head, and I feel ashamed for not having seen it myself. For having focused on the superficial nature of his charm and allowing myself to be lured into friendship.

“My nectar has powers, Nola. Its very essence can heal and purify you. It will turn your body into a vessel of virtue, so that you’ll not be denied in the afterlife. My mother was a whore since the age of sixteen, selling her body, just to get ahead in life. I cured her just before she passed. I made her pure again.”

Insane. He is criminally insane and perverted beyond anything I’ve ever met in my life.

I have to get loose, but without the ability to speak, I’m at a disadvantage. One I’m certain was intentional.

“Speaking of essence, we don’t have much time. Daylight will arrive soon, so I’d like to get on with tonight’s activities.” Disappearing into the shadows once more, he flicks on another light, this one at the far end of the room, where I can now see the object set against the wall is a kiln, slightly larger than the one I have at home.

Heart hammering in my chest, I wait with bated breath to see what role this plays in his little game.

Setting a hand atop the lid, he turns to face me and smiles. “I don’t need to tell you what this is, do I, Nola? I also don’t need to tell you that this particular model happens to be large enough to fit your son.”

My heart catches in my throat, eyes glued to his hand set against it, and I shake my head.

No.

“Don’t fret. As I said, so long as you play along, he’s safe. I’ve cracked the lid to allow him some air in there. He’s only sleeping, I promise. The same little concoction I gave you earlier.” He opens the lid slightly, and all I can see is the top of what must be Oliver’s head and his brown hair sticking up. “Now, here’s my question for you: would you choose to have your son burn in this kiln, or would you choose to let me fill you with my seed? To offer you the gift of purity.”