The Grabber

Behind The Mask

Andrea awoke to the sound of the lights flicking on. She quickly sat up, backing up against the wall while wiping any residue from her face. The door opened to reveal Al in a different mask. This was the same mask as the first day she was down here, but just the bottom. She tried to keep herself calm as Al looked at her.
"I'm giving you one more chance," he said as he removed his hand from the door handle. "If you fuck this one up, we move on to the next part."
"Next part?" She carefully asked.
"Of the game."
"What game?" Al tilted his head a bit as he breathed.
"Normally, I call it Naughty Boy, but... because of this situation, we'll call it Naughty Girl." Andrea cringed at the name.
"What... does the next part involve?" She fearfully asked. Al chuckled deeply.
"If you behave, you won't have to worry about that." Andrea gulped. "Or you could be my naughty girl."
"I just wanted to know what happened to you," Andrea breathed. "That's all. Then I wanted to leave. I didn't want to cause trouble. I didn't want any of this."
"You should have thought about that when you knew just who you were dealing with," he responded. Al simply stared for a moment as he took a slow deep breath. Andrea tensed up as she saw him look down. She pushed herself against the wall more as Al came closer to sit at the edge of the bed. "You want to know why I do these things?" He asked without looking at her. "You want to know what made me this way? What made me become the Grabber?" Andrea didn't respond. "It started when I was about your age. When it finally happened."
"What happened?" Andrea half whispered. Al turned to her slowly. He stared for a moment with emotionless eyes.
"I snapped," he growled. Andrea stared into his eyes, noting the lack of emotion. He looked away to expand. "All throughout school I was picked on. Constantly the one taking the punches. They'd kick me, shove me down, beat me until my face was red from blood. It didn't matter if I did anything or not. They didn't care."
"Who?" Al shook his head as he clenched his fist.
"The fucking kids, growing up. Same age, younger, older. It didn't matter. I was their punching bag. They would always push me around. Make fun of me, embarrass me. I don't think there was a single day I came home without some sort of bruise, cut, or blood." He finally stopped to think about these memories. Andrea eased herself from the wall as she kept her eyes on him.
"What did you do, Al?" She asked. Al took a slow, low breath.
"I cut that bitch," he hissed. "I made that fucker bleed. I made his friends bleed, too. No one messed with me after that. If they did, I would go after them." Andrea looked at the knife Al had slid out of his pocket. He looked over it in his hands.
"Did they..." Andrea couldn't finish. Al shook his head.
"No. I wanted to see them suffer. I let them live in fear." Andrea swallowed. "The feeling of finally being the one to throw the punch or cause the pain felt... good. I was the one in control. I was the one causing fear and panic. I loved the feeling. Everyone knew my name. I could make anyone terrified with just one look. I could choose to hurt anyone who hurt me or tried. Causing pain to others wasn't something I had to be given permission to do. It was a choice." He looked at Andrea, who pushed herself back a bit. "And I took that choice. I still do."
"But these kids... they're not hurting you, Al." He looked away. "Why are you taking these kids?" Andrea tried to push past her fear as she spoke. "Why are you hurting them? Killing them?" Al tightened his fist slowly on the knife handle. Andrea noticed and pushed herself away as her breath slightly quickened.
"Oh, it depends," he sighed in his normal voice. "If they look similar to the kids I knew at my age, sometimes I take them. If they remind me of myself.." he turned to Andrea. "I take them."
"Do you... hate yourself?" Andrea asked gently. "You always wear a mask. You always wore your sunglasses before all this." Al took a breath as he tilted his head.
"I hurt these kids, Andrea," he said. "I kill these kids. Do you really think I want to see the face of a murderer?" Andrea slowly shook her head. "That's why I cover my face. I don't stop what I'm doing. I'm already in the deep end. It's too late to stop now, even if I wanted to."
"It's never too late, Al," she whispered. "You could stop. You could be a good guy. You could be the Al I knew before all of this." He leaned himself towards Andrea, who moved back.
"Al wasn't me. I told you before. He was a fucking cover up. I'm the Grabber. That title has been given to me. It's who I am. Besides..." Al finally stood, keeping his eyes on Andrea. "It feels too good to be in control." Andrea gulped as she watched him begin to leave. "Now you know," he whispered roughly. He turned to head towards the door. Andrea quickly sat up before he could leave.
"Why do I feel like you're not telling me everything? That can't be all that's made you this way, surely." The Grabber paused as his hand gripped the handle. Andrea gulped, wondering if she should have asked. Finally, he turned his head to look at her.
"Of course that isn't all," he choked. "A lot of it I just can't talk about." Before Andrea could interject with any further questions, he exited the basement, letting the door lock behind him. She sighed as it did.
"This is why you came here," she reminded herself. "You got what you came for. Now you just need to get out. If I can..."

...

Michael sat at the kitchen table with his notepad and pencil. Uninspired, he watched silently as his father placed a cup of coffee on the table before taking a seat. As his father gently rubbed his eyes, Michael looked down to his notepad.
"Michael?" His father asked. Michael looked up again. "Where is Andrea?" Michael grew nervous about his question. His voice sounded almost as if he knew the real answer.
"She's... still at her friend's place... for the school project." Michael jumped as his father slammed his hand on the table.
"She's been over there for almost a fucking week." He looked at Michael. "You're going to go over there today and tell Andrea she's coming home. I don't care if the project is done or not. She's done whether she likes it or not." Before Michael could say a word, his father looked away and continued. "I have called several times and every time I do, she isn't there. She doesn't answer. Either she's hiding something from us, and goddammit if she is..."
"She's there, I promise. She isn't lying," Michael quickly interjected. "It's just a really long project." His father looked at him.
"What kind of project is it? What kind of project would take this long to finish?" Michael looked down. He tried to think quickly as to what his response would be.
"It's..." he started as he avoided eye contact. "A social experiment. She has to spend a lot of time with someone else, away from family. She records information about the person before she leaves and after she leaves. Then she compares her experiences after she comes back. It's a way to understand why people are the way they are. That's the project." In a way, Michael wasn't completely lying. This is what Andrea was doing right now, but with the Grabber. She had gathered all sorts of information about the Grabber before being abducted. Now she was gaining information about the Grabber while abducted. Michael just hoped she would be able to compare the experiences after she came back.
"She has just a few more days," his father sighed with frustration. "Then her ass is coming home whether she likes it or not. Even if I have to drag her back myself."