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“Open,” Hart asked for the tenth time, his voice getting deeper and less patient.

Riley kept his mouth closed, moving his face away every time Hart tried to force the spoon into his mouth. Both of them were having a mental war and the spoon was the battle field. It was completely unnecessary, or so Hart thought. Riley needed to eat and he wasn't giving in. Three days it had been now. Riley needed food.

“If you don't open your mouth I will use my tools, and I don't think you want that.”

“Fuck you.”

Irritated, Hart dropped the spoon back on the bowl and it splashed soup across Riley's face. They glared at each other, and it was the first time Hart was showing anger. He was never angry. There was no room for it in him. It made him more angry to think about it.

“You need to eat,” Hart stressed.

“I'm a vegetarian,” Riley replied back, mimicking Hart's tone.

“Not anymore,” Hart said calmly, his emotions disappearing once again, leaving behind emptiness. His eyes though, his eyes told a different story. He wasn't sure if he was amused or more annoyed at Riley.

“Doesn't matter what I am. You're going to kill me, so why are you trying to feed me?” Riley asked, watching Hart as he placed the bowl back on the table where he killed people – very appetizing.

Hart left after that, not bothering to answer Riley's question. It wasn't his place to ask the questions. Riley just needed to comply if he wanted to live. It was that simple. Hart was giving him a chance, something he never did to anyone. Riley bought something new to the game. He made it entertaining.

Hart didn't know much about Riley, but from what he had gathered, he was very obstinate. It made it difficult for Hart not to kill him faster. But . . . he didn't want to kill him. At least not yet. He was hoping Riley would give him something that was worth saving him. Something abstract, not touchable, something that only existed inside of him. A pure, innocent piece that he could have.

Hart had to leave his house after Riley refused to eat. He had to go to the only place he knew would help him; the grocery store. Hart had only ever been there once when he ran out of food. He wasn't a big eater so groceries usually lasted a very long time. He mostly gathered his food from his backyard. He had orange trees, apple trees, a garden of berries his mother had created – which he kept alive through the years as to not let her memory fade with the decease of the garden. He also tended a large field of crops from rice, to corn to even pumpkins. He could easily make Riley something vegetarian, but those things were sacred to him. They all belonged to his mother. He wouldn't dare share it with someone else.

The grocery store was mostly empty. The female employees were gathered around in a group by the staff room, chatting quietly with their phones out. The male employees were busy stacking cans and re-adjusting products in different aisles.

Hart remembered seeing a vegetarian section that came with food already prepared, like sandwiches and even pizza. It would save Hart the trouble of cooking again. He had already spent enough time making the soup only to be wasted. He wasn't going down that road again. He should have just given him cereal.

Indeed, there was a vegetarian section. There were so many options, so many non-meat options. He must have looked confused because a female employer approached him and asked him if he needed help.

“What would a vegetarian like?” Hart asked her.

“Well, my friend is a vegetarian and she loves these sandwiches.” She grabbed a couple of the pre-made sandwiches and went through each type with Hart. Her vegetarian friend enjoyed the spicy ones. Hart wasn't sure if getting Riley spicy food was the best idea, not when Riley was at the edge of death. “There are also a lot of types of vegetarian, non-cruelty animal food. There are cookies, candy, beverages, you name it and I'll find it.”

Hart ended up getting a lot of vegetarian food, so much that the lady had to bring a cart for him to carry all the things. Before he left the store, he noticed the “People Missing” board. Riley's face stared back at him. In the description it mentioned what he was wearing the last time he was seen and his location before the disappearance. There was a phone number to call if anyone had information, but that was it. He forgot all about it as he left the store and went to the parking lot to find his car.

As Hart opened the trunk of his car, a female voice yelled out to him. He looked up to see the same female employer that had helped him with his vegetarian issues running towards him.

“Hey, wait up!” she called as Hart began dumping the bags inside his car.

“Can I help you?” he asked her when she stopped running, catching her breath for a couple of seconds before speaking again.

“I can't believe I didn't recognize you, there aren't many guys like you around here,” she said, grinning.

Hart raised an eyebrow, clearly not knowing who this girl was.

“Maeve,” she stated with a smile.

It finally clicked. She was the dancer from the festival. The one Hart so elegantly danced with.

“Hello, Maeve. Nice to see you again,” Hart responded, smiling back.

She sighed contently. “I didn't think I'd see you again.”

“Then you thought wrong.”

She was acting strangely suspicious, but at the same time shy. Maybe he was making her nervous. She was rocking back and forth with her hands in her pockets, looking everywhere but his timid eyes.

“Um, I was wondering if I could ask you something?”

“What is it?”

“Well, my friend, Riley, is missing. And my friend, Samara, told me last night that she saw him with another guy who was dressed in a black suit. She basically described you. I was just wondering if you've seen him? It isn't like him to disappear.”

“No, I haven't seen him. I remember talking to him before the fireworks, but then he said he had to go to a party and left.”

She sighed. “Yeah, he was supposed to come to my party, but he never showed up. We thought he bailed and went to sleep like he usually did. I just . . .” She was on the brink of crying, hyperventilating as she wrapped her arms around herself. He couldn't handle people crying in front of him . . . it bothered him. It disgusted him. He felt no pity for anyone. “I don't know. Samara thinks you were the last person to see him before he disappeared, so I just had to ask. Not that I'm accusing you of anything. You look harmless.” She laughed to herself. "And now Riley's sister, Fiona, is completely broken. She hasn't stopped crying ever since he disappeared. She keeps blaming herself."

“I'm sorry. How about you give me your phone number and I'll call you if I know anything? I'll give you my card, too.” Hart turned around, eyes empty, lips dry and slightly parted. His heart thumped and he could hear every beat in his head, like a song or a repetitive command.

“Sure,” she said behind him, forcing herself to breathe and smile. “Don't you have a phone on you?”

“Oh, no,” he replied as he reached inside his front seat. “I never carry my phone.”

-*-

A storm was breaching the town of Bellumstone. Puffy gray clouds floated peacefully under the moon, building strong winds that sang with the air as whistles made every bird for miles flee for shelter. In this town, a storm was nothing. It rained almost every day. But it didn't stop the sun from popping out randomly to say hello during an unexpected morning, or even during winter when it was the coldest. The town had its eerie moments sometimes, but it didn't stop Hart from parking behind a club for an hour, watching it fill as the night went by.

He held a picture of a girl in front of him. She had curly brown hair, simple brown eyes, nothing like Riley's. She had a very forgettable face. Fortunately for him, not many people here had forgettable faces.

“Samara . . .” he whispered her name. A friend of Riley who knew who he was. She also knew about Hart, possibly suspected that he took him as well.

Hart checked his watch, it was almost three in the morning and the club was still as packed and wild as when it had first opened up. This was the biggest, most exciting club in this town. Every teenager, every college student, basically anyone over the age of eighteen came in there with either fake I.D's or real ones.

Samara was in there and he was going to find her. He left his car and entered the club through a back door. He could hear the music blasting through the thick walls, making his head pound painfully. He was in some sort of VIP room. It was empty and it smelled of drugs and alcohol.

The lights were off and Hart could barely see in front of him. He followed the sound of music until he found a door and went through it. Through that door was a long hall, and the music got louder, meaning he was close to reaching the main area.

The room temperature rose as dancing bodies appeared. Wasted people sat on the floors with their backs pressed up against the walls, some were so disoriented that they had passed out on the floor. He could kill them all so quickly, so easily that no one would notice him. But no, he had to control himself. He was here for one person and one person only.

Hart began his search as soon as he entered the dance floor. He circled the club, staring at drunk faces full of confusion or lust, maybe both. He hated being surrounded by such waste. The music didn't help his situation either – his control. He couldn't stand the repetitive electronic beats, the overused dubstep, the robotic singing voices, it only enraged his fury, made his headache worse.

He clumsily bumped into people on his way to the middle of the dance floor. They didn't even notice him as he took out a knife from his pocket and carried it around in his left hand. From the corner of his eyes, he saw the simple faced girl walking towards the back with a group of friends. He was about to head straight for them when a figure blocked his path.

"Hey, cutie, the party's over here," said the shirtless guy blocking his way. The stranger danced in front of Hart, feeling his sides, and touching his chest as he bit his lips seductively.

Hart watched him dance to the beat of the music with cold eyes. There was no way he was going pass through, especially with the amount of people who had already come together to experience the new song playing. So he just stood on the dance floor, not moving, staring, just staring.

The dancing guy touched him again, going lower and lower until Hart grabbed his wrist and twisted it, hearing the bones snap and pierce through the man's skin. He screamed in pain, but no one could hear him, not over the music.

The lights over the dance floor began to flicker rapidly, giving everything a sensation of deliberation. Hart used this to his advantage, used it to fuel his power. He let go of the guy's wrist and kicked him in the stomach, sending him crashing against others and they all fell on the floor, making a new path for Hart to walk through. He quickly walked over bodies and headed towards the back, to the two double doors where Samara had gone through.

Behind the doors was a long narrow hall, like the one he had gone through to get to the dance floor, only wider. It was empty and all of the doors were locked, but he kept walking until he reached the end of the hall and found himself in front of an open door.

He entered the dark, cold room and explored the empty space. There were a couple of lamps on, but most of the room was dark with evidence of cocaine on the coffee tables. There was one particular door that spoke to Hart. He could see a little light coming from the crack under the door, so he knew someone was in there.

When Hart made the choice to go for the door, it opened.

“You,” Samara said, her previous smile fading at the sight of the man in front of her.

Hart looked up from the floor and his eyes glued to hers like magnets. He could easily spot the fear inside her, crawling up her throat as she bit her lips and hid her trembling hands behind her. She knew.

“Who else did you tell?” Hart found himself asking.

“What?” she asked, a puzzled expression on her face.

“Who else did you tell?” he hissed through his teeth.

She swallowed the knot in her throat and her eyes wandered around the room, as if looking for someone, or waiting for someone. Her friends weren't here anymore, they left through the back door. She was in the bathroom fixing herself up to go back to the dance floor, but a wise thought told her she won't be going anywhere. So she made a run for it, jumping over a couch and falling over her high heels. Hart dashed towards the door and blocked it, grabbing hold of Samara by the neck.

“What did you do to Riley?” she demanded, choking back tears.

Hart guided her away from the door and had her sit down on one of the couches. She saw the knife in his other hand when he let her go and immediately shut her mouth. Her whole body was shaking that it actually hurt for her to stay still.

“I will ask one more time. Who else did you tell?” he said, standing over her with his knife visibly in front of her face.

“N-N-No one,” she stuttered nervously, her eyes flickering like a liar.

“You're lying.”

“I'm not.”

He sprout a gentle smile, to make things in the room more comfortable, even though the simple thought of that was ridiculous. He couldn't make anyone feel comfortable even if actually cared to try. He just wanted to get out of here as soon as possible and not waste his time.

“You told Maeve, so it's safe to assume you told others as well," he said.

He chuckled lightly and turned his back to her, watching the exit door in the back. He gripped the knife tightly in his hand and turned around again, throwing the knife at Samara's back as she tried to quietly escape through the open door. It stabbed her right in the middle of her spine and she dropped with a loud gasp and began to scream. He went over to her and knelt in front of her, lifting her head up so she could stare back into his empty eyes. He opened her mouth and shoved a hand inside, forcing it in even when she cried in pain. He got a good grip of her tongue and his fingers squeezed hard with unimaginable strength, then he tore her tongue out with all his force.

Instead of screams, blood came out of her mouth, cascading down her chin and dripping on the carpet. She squirmed on the ground as he took the knife from her back. He stood up again and turned her on her back. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head and he quickly grabbed her legs and pulled her away from the mess.

*-*

He went home after disposing of Samara's body, permanently. He had one last thing to do before he called it a night. All by himself, he brought the groceries inside and laid them on the kitchen counter. Why was being a vegetarian so damn expensive? More importantly, why did he care?

Once he was finished unpacking the bags and organizing everything in his almost-empty refrigerator, he grabbed Maeve from the floor and dragged her to the basement. She was tied up with wire and her mouth had been stitched shut. She was fully awake, and for the first time in a long time someone was looking at him with sadness, not fear. She wasn't sad because it was happening, she was sad because he was doing it – which made a lot of sense if you thought about it.

She mumbled something as soon as he bought her down and put her on the same silver table. He strapped her to it and looked over his shoulder just as Riley woke up. He had been tied up all day in the same chair, starving and tired and alone. He blinked a couple of times and looked in Hart's direction, then his eyes slowly fell on the female fighting to say something.

“Maeve?” he gasped when the familiar face came to him. He then looked straight at Hart and growled menacingly, “If you hurt her I swear to God I will kill you myself.”

Hart walked to his closet, opened it up with his key and took out a surgical mask. He put it on and took out two dices from the top shelf. He rolled them in his fingers and watched the black dots.

“I will give your friend a chance,” Hart said.

“A chance? Is that what you're giving me?” Riley questioned.

Hart took out the same knife he had used on Samara and it sent Riley on a goosebump roller coaster. Riley wanted to stay quiet, but this was his friend. He couldn't watch the maniac kill his friend in front of him. He wouldn't be able to live with it. Hart hadn't killed him yet, and from what Riley had gathered from watching, he killed his victims right away. He didn't keep them. He killed them.

But not him. He was still alive and it was for a reason that was beyond his comprehension.

“You really are beautiful,” Hart told the girl on the table. She was strangely quiet for the usual person that he killed, like she had accepted her death and waited patiently for it with open arms.

Hart let the dice fall between his fingers and watched as they bounced on the floor and landed on two numbers. One and three. Right away, he used the knife to cut Maeve free. She jumped off the table, knowing what was happening, but instead of running up the stairs she ran to Riley and used one of Hart's tools to cut him free as well.

Cautiously, they watched Hart as they freed themselves and ran for the door at the top of the staircase. Riley had trouble running, he was tired and weak and almost fell from climbing up the steps. Hart just watched with patience, not afraid or worried.

Two minutes.

Time seemed almost slow when Hart gave them chances. Two minutes turned into two hours in his head. It was a slow process, but he knew it was quick and easy. He closed his eyes and waited . . . waited . . . waited.

One minute.

He could no longer hear footsteps marching upstairs, or furniture falling over and breaking. They were being too clumsy. But smart. He knew they were trying to set up a plan because there was no way either of them were getting far enough to escape.

Time over.

Hart took a katana from the closet, a dear weapon of his – as it belonged to his father. It was a beautiful artifact, very light, but could slice a person in half with a swift swing. He followed the trail of fear up the steps and down the hall to the kitchen. The kitchen was untouched, except a vase that had shattered on the floor. He went out looking for them in every corner and when he didn't find anything, he went upstairs. They weren't outside because the doors were still locked.

Upstairs, all the doors were open. Absolutely all of them. How? Hart had no clue. One had marks of a heavy impact, and the floor was covered in glass. He entered his parent's old bedroom first and saw that the window was opened. Quickly, he rushed to the window and poked his head out, seeing two figures running in the distance.

Hart slammed the window down angrily and ran downstairs, opening the back door and speeding after them. They were like two shadows running from the moonlight.

Riley turned around when Hart was close to reaching them and he attacked him, shoving Hart to the ground and trying to strangle him. Hart easily pushed him off and got on his feet, looking around for Maeve. He found her trying to hide in a cabin close to his crops, a cabin used by a gardener when he was a small child.

He could hear her going through the things in there, but she wouldn't find anything useful in there. He had cleaned it up after the man died of a heart attack. There was only a bed and some supplies for the crops.

Hart hunted Maeve at full speed when she left the little wooden place, searching for anything that could help them. But there was nothing. This was his land. This was his home. His own little mace, his heaven.

Riley got up and followed Hart, but he was in no condition to run or do anything. He was completely drained of energy, he would pass out if he continued.

“Maeve! Run!” Riley screamed as loud as he could and collapsed on the soft grass.

Maeve looked back at Riley, but it was too late, for Hart had already reached her and was throwing her on the ground, kicking her in the stomach. He swung the katana and sliced off her arms. Her cries were barely heard from the stitches, but you could see the tears rolling down her cheeks.

“YOU ARE NOT LEAVING THIS PLACE!” Hart roared and sliced her chest, her stomach and finally her neck. But it didn't stop him until her organs were out of her body and splattered all over the grass.

There was so much blood. The grass around him had turned dark red, and with the moon gleaming it looked stunningly beautiful.

He left the katana on the ground and headed back to Riley, picking him up over his shoulders to carry him back home. Riley woke up when he saw the familiar room again, the same smell of unknown.

“N-no . . .” Riley sputtered. “W-where is she? What did you d-do to her?”

“I gave her a chance,” Hart whispered, putting him down on the table.

Riley was too wobbly to run off again, and he was crying. Hart wiped the unnecessary tears from his eyes and Riley punched him in the jaw. Hart didn't react at all to the punch, didn't flinch or even blink.

“It's a curious thing, death. There's nothing to be worried about, we all die in the end,” Hart told him.

“Go to hell,” said Riley.

Hart stopped talking after that. He grabbed Riley by his arm and walked him towards the dark room. Riley screamed and screamed and begged not to go back in there, but Hart wasn't having it. He opened the door and threw him inside.

What was even stranger for Riley, was that there were no bodies in the dark room. There was no blood. No foul smell. No chunks of meat hanging from chains. It was completely empty. But how could that have happened? Surely it should have taken Hart ages for him to clean the whole thing, plus get rid of the smell, and wouldn't Riley have noticed it? Hart had not been in the dark room ever since he took Riley out of it. And Riley remembered seeing all the bodies before he was removed.

What the fuck is going on? He thought desperately as the door closed and he was sunk in darkness.

Later that night Hart returned again, when Riley had moved to the far corner of the room where he had slept the first night. Hart placed a tray of food in front of the door and said quietly that it was vegetarian, knowing that he was wide awake. Riley ignored him and didn't even move a muscle till he was gone. But when Hart returned a few hours later, the tray was empty . . . and Hart smiled.

_________________________________________

[Author's Message]: Well then lmao. That was . . . a strange chapter to write. Yep. Pretty weird, messed me up in the head a little bit. The next chapter is gonna be even MORE scary and will have wtf moments that will make you think WTF IS GOING ON? LOL. I can't wait to write it and upload it, but unfortunately, I'm going on vacation tomorrow so I won't be back for a week. I hope you all vote for this chapter, I worked really hard for it and PLEASE post comments. I'm gonna be reading the comments on the airplane and on vacation so I would love to relax and read yo awesome shts. I hope you enjoyed the chapter, I hope you're enjoying the story. I love you guys so much, thank you for everything.

P.S. Best comment gets the next chapter dedicated to them!