The Masked Killer - A.T Ben Saad || English

Chapter 11: Noah; The Murder Of Matthew (Part one)

"I'm coming with you," Matthew says confidently, a small smirk tugging at my lips. My plan is working.

"No way, you're putting yourself at risk!" I employ reverse psychology. Those books on manipulation have proven quite useful. I can now manipulate anyone and everyone.

"No, I'm serious. I'm coming along," Matthew insists.

It feels as though I'm pulling his strings like a puppeteer. I glance quickly at Levi, who knows exactly what I'm up to. While the others were preoccupied with poor Henry, I briefed him on my plan. He agreed without hesitation. I give Lola a hug, that foolish girl. I can use her as my little servant by the end of this game. I can make her feel the pain that I felt a few years ago, and then everything will fall into place; everything will be balanced again, and I'll be free from the demons that haunt me.

Lola doesn't want me to go. The poor soul. If she knew what I was planning, she'd beg me to leave. She'd plead for mercy.

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I slide into the passenger seat, trying to keep my breathing steady. My heart pounds, not from fear, but from anticipation. The plan is in motion. Matthew's hands are trembling as he starts the car, but I keep my expression calm and determined. I set Google Maps to the nearest police station in Fairfield. The silence in the car is thick with tension, and I can feel Matthew's anxiety radiating off him.

As we drive off the driveway, I can see him gripping the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles white. He's scared, and that's exactly what I want. The journey is silent except for the sound of cars whizzing by on the highway. Matthew's eyes dart nervously between the road and the gas gauge, which is quickly approaching empty.

Finally, the beeping of the empty gas tank breaks the silence. Matthew sighs, his voice barely above a whisper. "We need to—" he starts, but I cut him off with a nod.

"Just go," I say, my voice steady. He takes the first exit to a gas station, and I watch as he parks the car. He glances at me, his eyes wide with fear. How can he be so terrified and yet so oblivious to the real danger?

Matthew steps out of the car and pulls up his hood, trying to hide his face behind it. I watch him as he fumbles with the gas pump, his movements hurried and clumsy. I see the counter rise slowly as he fills the tank, his eyes darting around as if expecting the murderer to jump out at any moment.

I wait until he goes into the gas station, then I pull out a  pair of gloves and the knife I took with me from underneath my seat. I slip on the gloves to avoid leaving any trace that I was the one who committed the murder. It has to look like an accident. With trembling hands, I cut through the brake cables, afraid that Matthew might catch me. When I'm done, I let out a sigh of relief. This is going to be a fun ride. A devilish grin spreads across my face. He shouldn't have flirted with my future little slave.

I stuff the gloves into my pants and shove the knife in my boot.

Inside the gas station, I see Matthew grabbing bandages and pills from the first aid section. He's trying to be prepared, but it's too late for that. He's already trapped in my web. I see Matthew's panic rise. He's so close to breaking.

I pull out my phone from my pocket. I text Levi that the deal is sealed.

When he finally returns to the car, he looks at me suspiciously. "Who is that?" he asks, his voice shaky.

"Oh—uh—Henry. I was just asking how things were going there," I lie smoothly. Matthew nods, fastening his seatbelt.

"Is Lola okay?" he asks, and I can see the concern in his eyes. It makes my blood boil. I snap at him, letting my anger show just enough to keep him off balance. "Hey, are you interested in her or something? You're always hovering around her like a bee to honey," I say, my voice sharp.

Matthew stammers a denial, and I can see the fear in his eyes. He's afraid of losing Lola, but he doesn't realize he's already lost everything. I sigh, playing the role of the weary friend. "Sorry, can't I just ask how she's doing? She's the only girl in the house now. We all need to keep an eye on her," he says.

I nod, pretending to relent. "You're right," I say softly. "Sorry, buddy, this situation is driving me crazy. I don't trust anyone anymore." I put a hand on his shoulder, and he relaxes slightly.

"It's okay," he says. "I get it."

"Thanks, bro," I say, giving him a pat on the shoulder. I settle back into my seat, the leather creaking.

"Okay, let's end this shit!" I shout, trying to inject some enthusiasm into my voice.

"Yeah, let's put an end to that bastard!" Matthew presses the gas, and we drive away from the gas station.

A devilish grin spreads across my face, but as quickly as it appears, it vanishes. It feels like I'm suddenly waking up, as if I've been asleep the whole time. Where am I? The gas pump? What the fuck? Panic rises in my chest as I look around, confused and disoriented. My surroundings don't make sense. I was just in our mansion, nursing Levi's wound.

"Can you set Google Maps to the police station?" Matthew's voice cuts through my foggy thoughts. A police station? Why? Has this guy gone completely mad? I feel a surge of fear and confusion. My hands shake as I do what he asks, my mind racing with questions. Why are we going to the police? What did I miss?

I clutch my head as a sharp pain slices through it, the familiar agony of losing time. I set up Google Maps, my vision blurring with tears of frustration and fear. I really need to see my psychologist. It's happening again. The blackout. The loss of control. Who knows what I've done during the time I was absent, with one of my other personalities taking over.

My breathing becomes erratic. What if I hurt someone? What if I did something terrible? The fear gnaws at me, twisting my stomach into knots. I glance at Matthew, who's focused on the road ahead. Does he know? Can he tell?

I feel a cold sweat breaking out on my forehead. I need answers. I need to know what happened while I was gone. The uncertainty is unbearable. It's like a dark cloud hanging over me, threatening to consume me whole. Every second feels like an eternity as I grapple with the terrifying possibility that I might have done something irreparable.

"Why are we going to the police?" I ask, my voice barely more than a whisper, thick with emotion. Matthew glances at me, his expression unreadable.

"You wanted to report to the police what happened," he says, a questioning look in his eyes. I can't remember that I insisted that. My mind is a jumbled mess, fragments of memories clashing together. I can't make sense of any of it. The fear intensifies, wrapping around my chest like a vise.

As the car speeds down the highway, I try to piece together the missing moments. The pain in my head pulses, a relentless reminder of my fractured mind. I need to get a grip. I need to stay focused. But the fear is overwhelming, a tidal wave threatening to pull me under.

I clutch the seat, trying to ground myself. My breath comes in shallow gasps. What if I hurt Matthew? What if I hurt someone else? The questions swirl in my mind, each one more terrifying than the last. I feel dizzy again. I feel the control slipping away. I'm drowning. The looming shadows of my past grasp my soul and push me further into the abyss. I sense my other personality, Damon, trying to take over once more. I dig my nails into the leather upholstery, desperately seeking some grip, but it's already too late. I close my eyes and descend into the endless sleep of my mind.