Page 51 of Unhinged Cain

I stopped counting after the hundredth time it played. I was trying to decide how much time had passed, but it was impossible without a window or a clock. Cain somehow snuck in when I was sleeping, which was creepy all on its own, but then he’d leave things as if they were little gifts. He always left food and water for a couple of meals, a fresh set of towels, and sleep clothes. Then he was gone again. I never saw him or heard him. It was like he was a ghost. No matter how hard I tried to keep my eyes open, they would grow heavy, and the last thing I’d see was the red floating goop in the lava lamp as the lyrics continued.

“I’ll always love you and make you happy,”

“If you will only say the same.”

“But if you leave me and love another,”

“You’ll regret it all someday.”

How many days had passed now? No idea. He’d left me alone with this song and my thoughts. It felt like every last marble was rolling out of my head and disappearing into an abyss. Maybe it had been five days, or had it been six? I’d always liked time to myself, but now I regret wishing to have more of it. The two questions I had on a continuous loop were: when would he reappear, and when would I take my last breath?

You are my sunshine….”

My eyes fluttered open. Oh, dear god, I was still in this hell. I put my hands over my ears. Please just make it stop. I was sure this was what sensory torture must be like—he was purposely trying to make me insane with this song. I fell asleep singing along and would wake up with it ingrained in my brain. Like the lyrics were the Pied Piper, my lips began to move, and I sang along and shut my eyes tight, not wanting to see anything.

“But if you leave me to love another.”

I tried to hum a different song as my body rocked back and forth in an attempt to block it out, but it was impossible. By the next verse, the words were once more tumbling out of my mouth.

“You’ll regret it all someday.”

The music lowered to a bearable decibel, and I sighed.

“You have quite the nice singing voice, Sunshine,” Cain said, and I sat up straight, knowing he was there.

My eyes searched the room, desperate to have contact with a person again but terrified and anxious to find him. It took a moment to zero in on him. It was like he blended in with his surroundings. He was sitting at the far end of the room with a laptop. He glanced over the top of the lime green screen, and a strange feeling whipped through my stomach. It felt like eels were swarming around in there, electrocuting me as they wiggled and moved.

He was lounging in a chair with his feet up, and even though I could only see his eyes, I knew I was already being analyzed. I was in the middle of a metal cage in the ocean, being circled by a shark ready to attack while chum was tossed in water all around me.

“You didn’t eat your dinner last night,” Cain said, and I glanced at the plate with the peanut butter and jam sandwich and the glass of water.

“I wasn’t sure if you were slowly trying to poison me or drug me into accepting whatever you decided to do.” I pushed myself back until I could lean against the wall.

Cain chuckled, his eyes looking away, and just like that, I was able to breathe again. If this was what it was like to be paralyzed by a stare, I could now say that I was fully qualified to write a thesis on the subject. He had an aura that filled the room like a hand wrapping around a person’s throat.

“If I drugged you or killed you with poison—which I wouldn’t do—wouldn’t that be a kinder choice than what I normally enjoy doing with my prey?”

He didn’t look over the computer, his fingers tapping away, but I could still feel the weight of the question as if he were inches from my face. I swallowed the grapefruit-sized lump in my throat as my brain ran over the question and what would be best to say so I would not end up under his blade.

“Yeah, I guess it would be.” I picked up the sandwich, and the bread was dry, but it still tasted fantastic because my stomach was so empty.

That wasn’t really the reason I hadn’t eaten it. I was attempting a hunger strike, but food was my weakness, so here I was, caving.

“Good girl, Sunshine.”

Those words had never sounded so sexy. A heat stirred in my gut to join the buzz of activity and finally settled between my legs. I bit into the sandwich harder and forced myself not to be such an idiot.

He’s a serial killer. For fuck’s sake, you shouldn’t be turned on.

“You’re cute when you glower, and I wouldn’t berate yourself too much. I planned on making sure you’re much more flustered before the day ends.”

My voice ceased to work, the rich peanut butter sticking to the roof of my mouth as I stared at the man that seemed to be able to read my mind. It was more than unsettling. There wasn’t a word in the dictionary that could describe the creeped-out sensation crawling along my skin.

I needed to get off this topic.

“What are you doing,” I asked and instantly regretted it as he put his feet down.

I now had an unobstructed view of his face. The face of a murderer shouldn’t be that sexy and alluring. He should look like a hideous beast or have horns as a warning. Instead, he had the most unusual blue eyes I’d ever seen, with a strong jaw and messy sandy-blonde hair that I wanted to run my fingers through. He had tattoos along his fingers and hands that shouldn’t be sexy, but they made me pant, but that damn Joker tattoo looked like it was mocking me.