Serpentine Desires

The prey

I woke up to a splitting headache, the kind that made every heartbeat feel like a hammer against my skull. Confusion clouded my thoughts as I slowly blinked my eyes open, trying to get my bearings. Soreness spread through my limbs and a dull ache that made me wince as I shifted on the bed. I wasn't sure what hurt more—the throbbing in my head or the tension knotted in my muscles.

Groaning softly, I pushed myself up, immediately noticing a small glass of water on the nightstand beside me. Next to it, a few pills and a note.
Have them.

Underneath, it was signed: K.M.

Kyle? I squinted at the writing, my eyes tracing the initials. Could Kyle have left these? I didn't recall him ever leaving a note like this before. But... the handwriting. It seemed... off. Did both of them have the same writing?

Whatever. I didn't have the energy to think it through. I grabbed the pills, downing them with a gulp of water. The liquid felt cool and soothing against my dry throat, but it did little to ease the heavy fog in my mind.

I pushed the blanket aside, bracing myself for the cold as my feet touched the floor. Immediately, a sharp hiss escaped my lips as pain shot up my leg. God, even my feet hurt. I moved slowly, steadying myself as I headed for the bathroom to freshen up.

I didn't even remember what that monster did to me last night. Did we have... sex? No. He couldn't have possibly take me when I was unconcious. Or... did he?

Damn. Why couldn't I recall?

After splashing water on my face and changing into a sweater and joggers, I stared at my reflection in the mirror. Pale. Tired. My eyes were red-rimmed, and there was something hollow about the way I looked, like I hadn't slept in days.

Maybe I hadn't. Who could tell anymore?

As I was about to head to the kitchen, it all came rushing back. Like a tidal wave of terror, the events of last night crashed into my mind—Carlo's dead, glassy eyes staring up at nothing. And Judas... the way he'd killed those men, his eyes so cold, so unfeeling. I swallowed hard, my body going still.

The memory gripped me, and I felt my stomach turn. Was it a nightmare? I almost wished it was.

But it wasn't. It was real. I squeezed my eyes shut, willing the image to go away. I didn't want to see him. Not right now. Maybe not ever.

The thought of facing Judas, of seeing him again after what he did... I didn't know how to feel. Was I scared? Angry? Something else? It was all tangled together swirling in a confusing mess. My breath caught in my throat, and I clutched the counter, trying to steady myself. I couldn't do this. I couldn't face him. Not yet.

But... I couldn't stay here, frozen in place. I had to keep moving. One step at a time.

I forced my legs to move, dragging myself toward the door and stepping out into the living room. It was empty. A strange sort of relief washed over me at the sight of the vacant room. No Judas. No one. Just silence.

That relief didn't last long though. The clanking sound of pots and pans from the kitchen pulled me toward it. My body tensed as I approached, every nerve on edge. I could hear the faint, deep murmur of a voice—Kyle's voice. He must've been talking on the phone, wearing those earbuds of his.

As I reached the doorway, I caught part of what he was saying. "—asleep." The rest was in Russian, and I couldn't make it out. He was cooking, his back to me, wearing his usual dark clothes. His movements were sharp, efficient, like everything else he did. But his phone wasn't in his hand. Where was it? Was he even on a call?
I cleared my throat loudly, making my presence known.