Darkness. Not the sun going down and the moonlight casting luminescent streaks across the sky kind of darkness. Void of light, empty of sound and deprived of the existence of life darkness. Alex had realized he might have made a hasty decision as he sat in the saturnine room.He prided himself on his wits. His mind was his strongest quality even though his mother once told him he was dashing when he was a lad and his father praised him for his skills on the baseball field; his brightness was the thing he valued the most. However, now sitting in the room—alone, he mulled over his choice and came to the conclusion that it probably wasn't the most intelligent thing to do.
Who drinks something given to them by a stranger—a stranger known to be dangerous? A foolish person. That's who. Alex recognized his mistake as soon as he woke up five hours ago. Besides the darkness of the small room giving him flashbacks of the time he was at the asylum things weren't that bad. He at least had a chair, the wood seat made his bum numb and his wrist were tender from being handcuffed to the arms but his back was well supported. Bright side.
Then there was the pain. He didn't know the exact chemical compound that was mingled in the liquid he chugged down but he knew it had a side effect. Other than the deep slumber he fell into there was the headache; a brain clobbering against his skull headache.
"Fuuckk." Alex groaned out through clenched teeth and clamped eyes.
"The aftermath is the worst." A monotonous tone sliced through the silence.
"The hell," Alex outburst with a jump of fright. "Who's there?" He jerked his head toward direction from where heavy voice came.
Footsteps swiped across the uncarpeted floor and Alex felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise from the body heat behind him, "That's not important." The person spoke and Alex registered the person's deep baritone coming to the conclusion that it was a man younger than forty but older than eighteen.
The rattling of small dense objects in a bottle sounded through the room prompting Alex to grimace.
"Tylenol." The man stopped shaking the pills, "You probably want something stronger but I wouldn't advice mixing narcotics with the concoction you're coming off of."
Alex sighed painfully, "What concoction am I coming off of per say?"
"What was in the concoction?" The man let out a hearty laugh. "You expect me to tell you that." A loud solo clap of the hands cracked through the four walls. "A magician doesn't give away the secret of his trick. Then the person would try to run the same game on the magician."
Alex shrugged, "I'm not Harry Potter. I don't dabble in magic."
"Be that as it may, we don't give away our ingredients, little lad." The man slapped his wide hand on Alex's shoulders. "So, do you want the pills?"
"Umm." Alex pondered on the question. The man said it was Tylenol but he couldn't see if that was so. "I'll just grin and bear it. The pain can't last forever, right."
"Wow." The man gushed with a snap of his fingers. "The Maker said you were quick but damn." His footsteps begun again and Alex could tell the man was circling him. "You know not to trust what you can't see." He shook the bottle again. "Not Tylenol."
Alex's eyebrows bunched with frustration though the man couldn't see him in the darkness, "What? That could've killed me?"
"Everything is a test with The Maker." The man stopped in front of Alex.
"Are you..." Alex stopped as his heart jumped in his chest. He widened his eyes trying to make out the figure in front of him. He could only make out a figure—body with a head. "Are you The Psychopath Maker?"
"No, silly boy. I'm not." He told and Alex could hear his lips pull apart as a sly smile spread across his face. "I'm The Messenger."
The handcuffs clicked as Alex shifted his arms, "So, you're the one that's been leaving us those messages."
"I see the semester at university has paid off." He laughed lightly, "You got me."
Alex caught a hint of an accent, "You're not American, are you?"
"Shit." He huffed to himself, "That English accent hasn't quite worn off yet after all these—" He stopped then tsked. "You almost got me. You're a sly one, Benjamin Alexander Lemen. Questioning me but this isn't about me. It's about you...and your family."
Through the quaking of his brain, Alex remembered the words he read before drinking the elixir. "How am I related to the Psychopath Maker?"
The Messenger exhaled loudly, "That isn't a tale for me to tell. However..." He slapped his hands together like sandpaper rubbing against sandpaper. "These words of which I'm about to speak come from The Maker's mouth: I, give you two choices Benjamin Alexander Lemen, stay trapped in here within my manor of things unruly for a week and remain clueless or learn my true identity and prepare the world for my homecoming but...choose wisely..." He paused taking a deep breath to slowly exhale it and Alex could fell his heart thud in his throat.
The Collector continued, "Because if...you let my name slip from your mouth or even curve your lips to form the first syllable of my name all who love you will be deep down in the ground away from this domain."
Alex swallowed hard trying to clear his throat of the fear that clogged it, "I...I..."
"Take some time." The Collector kicked the leg of Alex's chair but the sturdy wood didn't budge. "Think about it. This isn't a choice to take lightly." He lowered near Alex's ear and whispered. "You're going to be lying to everyone you hold dear...even that beautiful girlfriend of yours but then again..." He rose and walked away from him, "You're Benny. You tell lies laced in honey and drizzled with sincerity. You are a manipulator."
Light wafted over Alex prompting him to shut his eyes and discovered that the door was behind him.
The Collector stopped in the doorway, "I'll be back in a couple of hours, sit tight." He chuckled to himself. "Oh, wait. That's all you can do." The door slammed behind him.
"Fuck!!!" Alex yelled at the top of his lungs. He breathed furiously as he trained his eyes on the darkness ahead of him, "Stupid, stupid boy. That's me."
What choice should Alex make
YOU ARE READING
The Homecoming: Book Three of The Psychopath Maker Series
Детектив / ТриллерThree played a 'Wicked Game.' Now, it's time for round two. One will fight. One will meet The Maker. And one will try to keep them all safe. The world may be black and white but to win this game, they'll have to play in the gray.