“Oh,” Samantha mumbled, not feeling especially comforted by that knowledge. “Where are the bodies?” she asked, praying that he hadn’t shoved them beneath her bed as trophies.

“Buried in the woods,” he said, stepping past her to run his fingers over the temperamental gas stove that needed to be replaced.

“Oh, okay then,” she said, shifting nervously as she watched him study the cracked honey bear cookie jar. She watched him for a minute, noting that he was enthralled with that old cookie jar that her grandmother used to fill with prune cookies and shot a look towards the kitchen door. Maybe she should go for it since he was-

“Do not leave my side, wife,” he said, never taking his eyes away from the cookie jar even when he accidentally broke the bear’s nose off. He grumbled something else and then moved onto the next item, the thin black oven mitts that she was actually pretty sure had once been white.

“As flattered as I am, and I am flattered,” she stressed, deciding that upsetting the monster wouldn’t be a good idea, “I’m going to have to decline,” she said before adding, “But, thank you.”

“It’s not your choice, wife. You’re mine,” he said as he pulled open a drawer. When he pulled out a knife and turned to face her, she stumbled back.

“Come here,” he said, motioning her closer with the knife.

“N-no, thank you. I’m fine where I am,” Samantha mumbled as she backed into the small tea and prune stained kitchen table that was barely big enough for one person never mind two.

As she stood there, careful not to make any sudden moves, she realized that she was going to have to play along if she wanted to make it out of this alive, and she definitely wanted to make it out of this alive. She didn’t know what he was or why he’d been in that wall, and right now, it didn’t matter. If she made it through this, she’d freak out about it later, but for right now, she needed to keep a clear head and that meant playing along. She’d just pretend that it was another psych patient that had forgotten to take his meds and hope that help arrived before he decided that she’d make a tasty snack.

With a growl that didn’t bode well for her, he walked over to her, and just when she thought she’d pushed him too far, he sat down at the table and held the knife out to her, handle first. She took it with a trembling hand quickly before he could change his mind, but once she had the knife in her hand, she had no idea what she was supposed to do with it.

“My hair needs to be trimmed, Wife,” he said, sighing as he gestured to his face.

Samantha looked from the admittedly dull steak knife in her hand that had a touch of rust to his long-tangled beard and hair and frowned. “You want me to cut your hair...with this?” she asked, holding up the item that could barely cut through a boiled hot dog, never mind hair.

“Yes,” he said firmly. “Then you’ll help me bathe in the river.”

That surprised a snort of laughter from her. “You’re kidding, right?”

The glare he sent her way was not very comforting, and as afraid as she was of this man, she couldn’t do as he’d asked. First of all, she was pretty sure that he’d kill her after five seconds of trying to saw through that thick, tangled mess matted down with dust and other things. Secondly, there was no way that she was standing in waist-high freezing cold water while scrubbing a monster that may or may not have kept the bodies as trophies but had also decided that they were married. It just wasn’t going to happen.

Clearing her throat, she slowly put the knife down on the table. “I’m not cutting your hair with that.”

When his eyes turned from a rather beautiful emerald to a terrifying red, and he growled menacingly, she decided that it might just be in her best interest to help him out.

“I have a barber kit upstairs that I use for my brother when he’s home and I think you’d probably be more comfortable taking a hot shower than taking a dip in an ice-cold river,” Samantha rushed to explain as she gestured every which way, not really sure what the hell she was doing, but hoping that she’d said or did something that would please him.

“What’s a barber kit?” he asked slowly, as though he were testing the words before asking, “And a shower?”

“A barber kit has scissors and electric trimmers so that I can cut your hair without hurting you,” Samantha said, having absolutely no doubt in her mind at the moment that he really didn’t know what they were. “A shower is a...” she pursed her lips up in thought as she tried to figure out a way to describe it to him. “It’s a large bathing tub where hot water is sprayed down on you so that you can wash without having to sit in dirty water.”

He threw her a skeptical look as he gestured for her to go. That was fine with her. She’d cut his hair, show him how to use the shower, down a bottle of Advil, and while he was doing that, she was going to get the hell out of here before she ended up like that door.

Samantha walked upstairs, forcing herself to keep moving while he followed after her. The idea of having him at her back was not very comforting. A few times she had to force herself to focus on her breathing when she began feeling lightheaded.

Without a word, she walked into the large bathroom at the top of the stairs. When she stepped into the large room decked out with cracked off-white tiles, she realized just how badly she needed to use the bathroom. A quick glance at the cracked bathroom window let her know just how late it was. As she somehow managed to stop herself from doing the “pee-pee” dance, she couldn’t help but wonder how much time had passed since this nightmare began.

“What’s wrong, wife?” the monster asked as he stepped into the room behind her.

“I-I have to use the bathroom,” Samantha said, gesturing helplessly towards the toilet as he glanced around the bathroom.

“Bathroom?” he asked absently in that slow manner of his as he took in every detail of the bathroom from the cracked tiles to the-

The vicious growl that tore through the bathroom when he saw his reflection in the mirror had her stumbling back and slamming her back against the wall in a vain attempt to get away from him. When he grabbed onto the sink to steady himself as he took in the red-eyed monster staring back at him, Samantha found herself opening her mouth to ask him if he was okay, but the vicious growl that accompanied the bathroom sink cracking beneath his hands had her quickly changing her mind.

Perhaps this was the time to leave, Samantha wondered even as she pressed herself more tightly against the wall as those chilling eyes met hers in the mirror. “Bathroom?” he demanded with a terrifying growl that had her weakly gesturing towards the toilet.

“I have to go,” Samantha said softly, watching as he shifted his attention from her to the toilet that was still surrounded by the original black and white tiles that her great-grandfather had laid down when he’d turned this room into a bathroom years ago.

“Bathroom?” he repeated curiously, as he moved closer to the toilet, most likely to inspect it, but since time was a factor here, especially after he’d just scared the hell out of her, she said, “Toilet,” with the hopes that would be enough.

Tags: R.L. Mathewson Pyte/Sentinel Fantasy
Source: readsnovelonline.net