Saved by Love
- Genre: Romance
- Age: 18+
- Status: Completed
- Language: English
- Author: Ava Spyce
OBSESSION. That’s a word we are all familiar with.
We all have our obsessions: food, games, or perhaps,
But how far are you willing to take it?
“Shit!” he exclaimed and let out a curse. The loud thud shook him as he shuddered and spilled his coffee all over his trousers.
Getting up from his chair, he let down his brush as the ink spilled from it. The ink also splashed on his glasses just a little bit. He had a keen concentration and he hated being distracted. He stared at his artwork, observing the beauty he had created. She had a curved mouth pointing upward, and her brown hair had a shining edge.
Her brown eyes looked realistic as he observed them closely. The paint on her face was stained with a spot of black ink at the edges of her nose. He wondered what it was that flustered him into making such a mistake.
Making a hissing sound, he decided to check out what it was that slammed against his window pane. He saw that his window had a speck of white fog around it and concluded to clean it later.
He stepped out of his apartment for the first time that afternoon, and the sun blinded him. He wondered what it was that made him have to withdraw from his hobby. He walked over to the black creature he saw moving on the ground and was surprised.
The black pigeon was chirping loudly, which was too loud for him. With a disgusted look on his face, he carried it up. He didn’t feel pity or any other feelings for it. He just wanted the noise to stop.
He looked up and saw a little kid, dressed up in white shorts and a blue top with a teddy bear walking with a woman he considered to be his mom. She looked less than a mom, more like a tired person. He understood her. Kids were troublesome. Annoying too. But he only felt that way because he observed other kids. He didn’t have one of his. Not yet at least.
They both walked toward him as they spotted the black pigeon in his hands, feet tapping loudly, even though he was a few feet apart from them.
“Are you going to take it to the doctor?” the woman said, pointing at his hands holding the pigeon tightly.
“What?” he asked, wondering what she was talking about.
Taking a closer look, he realized what she was talking about. The black pigeon had a damaged wing on its side. No wonder it was so loud, he thought. He was squashing its damaged side, but he had no idea. He got self-conscious about whether they saw him being harsh to it and loosened his grip on it.
“I don’t know any doctor close by, but I will try to fix it up,” he said with a smile on his face.
But he knew he wouldn’t. Why should he help something who made him destroy his beautiful artwork? He wanted to kill it, if not, inflict more pain on it. Birds had freedom, they could fly anywhere, and he couldn’t. Why were humans made to walk with two legs? Who brought on that rule?
“Mommy, look, the pigeon stopped its noise,” the little boy said, his mouth showing a few missing teeth.
That was enough to snap him out of his thoughts. Why did he even have such thoughts? Some humans were beautiful and free. Like her. But he didn’t wish for her to be that free.
He let out a deep sigh, observed the bird, and realized the little boy was right.
“Is it dead?” the woman gasped, putting a hand over her mouth.
Oh, how he wished it was dead because just after she asked that question in a sad tone, the bird chirped louder than before. He needed this woman to leave but he had to act like the nice neighbor he ws. The last thing he wanted was a fight with her telling him it died because he didn’t treat it gently.
“No, still alive, that was close,” he said in a pretense tone that expressed nothing but happiness with a huge beam on his face.
“Oh! That's good. Please take good care of it, okay?” Her face brightened up.
She was his neighbor. He had seen her a couple of times knowing one day, she would stick her nose in something that could get her killed. Hopefully, not by him. She wandered off with a wide smile on her face, dragging the poor little boy along.
Putting his focus back on the wounded pigeon, he entered his small apartment and sat down, dropping the bird like it was a disgusting thing to hold.
“What do I do with you?” he said, pondering how to deal with something that inflicted an injury on itself.
As if the bird could read his lips, it tried to scurry away, flapping its wing pointlessly, even though it knew it was in pain. It tried to escape, but there was no hope for that. There was no chance.
He gave it a pathetic look as he saw it try to scuttle.
“Time to put you out of your misery,” he leered as he took the bird.
The bird had stopped struggling, and he was satisfied as he heard the crack in the bird’s neck. The chirp slowly stopped, and there was peace. It was just so unlucky. If only it had slammed on someone else’s window.
Placing it in a black trash bag, he went out to throw it in the garbage.
“Time to resume my drawings,” he thought, still frustrated he had to start all over again.
He heard a loud clonk coming from the basement. Oh, he forgot. Sighing, he knew he might not be able to complete his drawing because he was already losing interest. He located the keys and headed toward the sound.
Stopping midway, he groaned heading to the kitchen. He hated this. Why was he even keeping him alive? He took a few chunks of bread with a cup of water and headed down to the basement.
The basement was a small space, not painted, and a bit cold. He looked at the pile of trash he had in a corner, always forgetting to throw it out. Spotting the man sitting on the chair, he had no idea who he was.
All he knew was that his lips touched hers. He couldn’t bear that happening again. He checked if the rope around the man was tight. When he made sure, he removed the gag around his mouth and heard him gasp for air.
His clothes were shredded, and he realized there was a stench coming out of him. He knew it was from the hand he set on fire and the dried blood all around his body. He didn’t even know why he brought him food. He was going to kill him off. But he still had to make the man realize what he had done by placing his hands and lips on his rare treasure.
Setting down the tray he was holding, he smirked at the man.
“We meet again,” he said, dragging out a chair to sit in front of the man.
The man had already lost a few teeth but still managed to speak up.
“Please, why are you doing this to me? I don’t even know you.”
He walked over to his tools arranged on the table – tweezers, pliers, clamps, screws, and the rest, all set on gray clothes stained with blood. He went to his gloves, putting them on.
Attempting to scream because he never had the chance previously, the man let out a shout, but it was stifled and cut off by a cloth shoved in his mouth.
“Don’t try it. Or I’ll kill you right now,” he said. “And to answer your question, I don’t know you either.”
He walked back to his tools and looked at the man. “But you touched something you shouldn’t have two weeks ago.”
“Two weeks?” he said with a low voice. “That was why you suddenly d****** me yesterday and tormented me? You didn’t even give me a chance to talk. I’m sorry. I don’t know what I did, but I won’t do it again. You have the wrong guy.” Tears were coming out of his swollen eyes.
He was bald, at least not before. She had touched his hair. And even if he found the hair to be disgusting, he still kept it. She had touched it.
“I’ll tell you what you did,” he said to him, dropping his pliers. “But first, are you hungry?”
The man was surprised at the question but let out a sigh of relief. He couldn’t argue because he was already weak. All he could do was nod. Even though he had some of his teeth removed, he could still eat, and his stomach was growling.
He walked over to him and gave him a look of pity as he cut out a piece of bread and shoved it in his mouth slowly. The man sucked and chewed slowly with his few teeth.
“I’m sorry,” he said, finally speaking up. “It’s just that I hated it when you touched and kissed her. She looked like she was enjoying her time with someone else. I couldn’t wait to get youб and once I finally did, I had to let out my anger immediately.”
He put his legs up on the chair, putting his hand over his head, the tray lying peacefully on his legs. He gave it a second thought and set the tray down, taking the cup of water from it. He stood up and moved closer to him, pouring the water slowly into the man’s mouth.
The thirst had finally left the man and he was relieved.
“Who- what are you talking about?” His voice was raspy when he spoke. But he was thinking one thing. This person was crazy.
“Allison,” he replied, tilting his head a little to the side.
“What? All this is happening because of her?”
The man snapped as if he had finally found the cause of his problems. And why all this was happening.
“She never told me she was dating someone. She never even told me she was seeing anyone. That was our first date. She only told me she had a daughter, I swear.” The man started coughing and was about to continue talking, but he stopped when he saw his expression change.
“Oh, she’s not dating or seeing anyone, not under my watch. She isn’t dating me either. Not yet at least, but soon, we will date and get married. Have so many children. Oh, I can’t wait for that day to come,” he said, laughing crazily and murmuring to himself.
The man realized he was in big trouble and frowned. This man had gone loco. Allison was in danger, and so was he.
He didn’t want to get tortured any longer. He had his hands shaking from being put on fire.
“Please, I’ll do anything. Let me go, please. I could even get her for you,” he pleaded.
He looked so feeble and ugly. His hair was shaved, and scars were on his head from the knife cuts that he had to heal. He didn’t want him bleeding out through the night. He had peed on himself, and it had dried up.
Almost all of the man’s fingernails and toenails had been removed. Some of his teeth had been removed, and his hands were red from being burnt. He didn’t mean to do all this. It wasn’t his fault, but this man deserved it.
“You said you would do anything?”
The man felt a ray of hope as he said those words. He could finally escape from this hell hole.
“Give me your hands then,” he said.
“Your hands. Give them to me.”
“Why?” His face twisted.
“Because you used them to touch her.”
Seconds passed, and the man realized he wasn’t joking.
“No! Fuck no!” he cursed as he struggled to escape, even though he had been tied tightly. “This is messed up! You’re messed up!”
He sighed and shook his head. “We could have ended this once and for all. Your hands, and you’ll have your freedom.”
“Are you crazy? I’ll die!”
“Yes, I’m crazy!”
He held the man by the jaw, pulling his face closer. “I’m crazy for her!”
“She doesn’t even know you. You said that!”
“But she will soon. That’s for sure.” He tilted his head as if he had just thought of something.
“I was just going to take your hands. But now that I think about it, you kissed her, didn’t you?”
His heart dropped as he knew what was going to happen next.
His lips? No…his tongue? What? He was going to... No, he couldn’t. His body trembled at the thoughts of it.
He dropped the man’s jaw and smirked.
Walking away to get the knife, the man’s lip quivered, and his eyes widened as he thought of what was going to happen. He was going to cut off his hands. He walked back to him and removed the cloth hanging around his neck. He replaced it with new pieces of cloth he had found, shoving them down his mouth and taping his mouth to hold it tightly.
“Try not to pass out from the pain,” he said as he held one of the man’s hands.
The man tried struggling, but it was pointless. All he could do was shut his eyes tightly and pee himself. The knife sliced through his skin like it was a piece of cake. He tried letting out a scream, but all that came out were stifles and moans. He could feel the knife already touching the bones.
The man opened his eyes with tears in them and saw his torturer trying to pierce through the bone. He saw his hand dangling like a cow’s meat had been cut off. He could feel himself passing out and slowly drifting away. The adrenaline set in and numbed the pain. He could feel his other hand being cut off too.
There were so many things he knew. The man knew he had no family. Or no one that would remember him. Or that Allison said it was nice but a mistake, and she couldn’t enter a relationship. Oh, she said that. If he had told this guy, would he have died?
He knew he still wouldn’t survive. This was still going to happen. But he had no idea he would die like this.
“Oh,” was all he could say when the man’s face had drained, no longer breathing. He never noticed because he was too bent on breaking the wrists to get the hands.
He was frustrated as he removed the pieces of cloth from his mouth and realized the man had bitten his tongue multiple times. He couldn’t take it anymore. It looked disgusting.
Looking at the two hands lying beside the body and the blood everywhere, he made up his mind to dispose of the body. He was disappointed this man didn’t last that long. This was the first time he had ever killed anyone. He wiped the blood off his glasses and face. It was splattered everywhere. He had to clean up a lot.
But it wasn’t his fault. What was she thinking? She hadn’t wanted a man for years, and suddenly she was kissing someone. If only she would notice him once. He tried talking to her, but she didn’t even see him there. He was going to protect her from afar. All these guys just wanted to use her. He was sure.
And he was going to make sure no one would come near her. She belonged to him.
He wrapped up the body in a white cloth and stuffed it into a black bag.
How would he dispose of this? And immediately he remembered the lake on the city side. He was going to wait until it was 10 p.m. No one would see him.
Seeing the hands he cut off, he was wondering what to do with them.
He thought of using it as a gift for her, but that would scare her, so he decided to throw them out too. They were useless.
[A few days after]
Walking a few houses down the coffee shop, he circled before he could find a secluded spot for himself.
“This area is pretty good,” he thought to himself as he examined the black car that looked like it had been parked there for days.
Hopefully, no one would interfere. Setting up his camera, he zoomed in on her.
“Pretty,” he murmured as the camera shuttered.
He looked at the photo he had just taken and observed as she sipped her favorite coffee. He knew it was her favorite because he had gotten the information from watching her. He knew what her best food was. He knew her favorite flower was a lily. He knew her height.
He even knew when she got her car. Everything a person could know about someone. Her brown hair was majestic, and her black jeans complimented her yellow top. Her smile made everything brighter. The letters of the coffee shop were bold, showing clearly behind her. It was like she posed perfectly for him.
If only this could last longer, but it didn’t.
Taking the last picture as she headed to her company, he smiled as he sat down, resting on the car, eyes on the picture as if he was drunk in love with what he saw.