The sky illumined as lightning stroke. Rain pelted down from the heaven, flooding the streets. All other sounds were drowned out by the storm; the screams from the old Victorian house could not escape either. The cream and brown appearance of the residence did not seem any less than ordinary. The wrap around porch with a white fence offered a refined look, balancing the garish yellow chimney. A garden thrived in the front yard and lush grass skirted the walkway. The background of the steeply pitched roof incorporated a spruce canopy. Characteristically, the house included a 1200 square feet basement which, at the moment, held only two.
Loud pants filled the air as he stood back and admired his artwork. The canvas covered in red entranced the man. It had always been his favourite. He paused and wondered if he was thinking of the colour or the tool in his hand. A smirk shaped his lips at the sound of thunder. It seemed as though Zeus's ire was comparable to his own. The man's jaw clenched and hands fisted around the whip when he was reminded of the reason behind his actions tonight. She had attempted to run away from him, from their house, from their relationship. It should now be imprinted on her mind—as deep as the lacerations on her back—that he would never let her go. A sigh escaped his lips as he lowered the chains and unlocked the handcuffs. The unconscious body was laid on a bed. Once he finished cleaning the wounds, he covered her with a silk slip. After disposing of the tattered clothes, he disappeared upstairs to take his night tea, not forgetting to lock the metal door this time.
YOU ARE READING
Behind Closed Doors
Short Story--- Short Story --- Do you really know your neighbour? Do you really know your friends? Do you really know what's behind a smile? Everyone has a locked door in their dungeon. Would you like to see what's behind the closed door?
