As she read on, his writings were becoming increasingly more focused on the one time ‘person of interest’ Scarlett Greenwood. He would find excuses to keep going back and questioning her even though there was nothing to link her definitively to any of the cases. He was obviously attracted to her.
Two more murders popped up during the course of his writings, one who was linked again, to Scarlett through six degrees of separation. No one found it odd because Virginia Beach is a fairly small community and most individuals could be linked through less than six degrees of separation.
Scarlett – a lovely name for a woman whose name matches the color of her lips. I have taken a particular interest in her. More than work related. We have discussed many things, our pasts, what we want for our futures, etc. I find my thoughts becoming clouded when I’m in her presence. Perhaps it’s the cheap musky perfume she wears. She is struggling financially. She hasn’t admitted as much, but I can see it in the way she dresses, the car she drives, and the less than desirable neighborhood she lives in. Although my pay grade is still on the low-end, I want to help her.
The last words leapt off the page. He had always had the kind of personality where he wanted to help people. Like herself. She even sensed he may have been a romantic at heart. It was a lovely thought…
The snap of the leather brought her back to reality. The icy coldness in her heart did nothing to quench the fire on her back, and she hunched over as her fingers gripped the journal. She shrieked and hid her face as hot tears streamed down her face. Her throat tightened painfully and her body began to sweat profusely as the warmth of her back spread over her body.
She wanted the old Victor. The one whose writings she was reading. Where was he? Was he gone forever? Her physical pain was acute, but didn’t compare to the misery she was feeling in her heart.
“I want the real Victor,” she howled when he lashed her across her shoulder blades once more.
“Read,” he ground out between gritted teeth.
Terrible regrets assailed her. Had she been wrong about Victor? She refused to believe that… “Victor, please…” she begged.
“Ten… nine…”
The snap of leather again.
Her anguish almost overcame her control, but she forced herself to straighten up and go into auto-mode as she sobbed out the dreadful words written on the stark white pages.
Another murder. Scarlett… he was falling for her. He had fallen for her. He was in love. She loved him. She understood him. He understood her. She rushed the words, wanting the torment to be over with.
Elsa’s tears gradually diminished and her words slowed when she read that he wanted to scream from the rooftops of his love for Scarlett. Victor had light in his life then and it was beautiful to read.
But no one could know of their love.
One more body was found, but it was the first of the five; the first murder, not the fifth. It had been hidden better than the others, but the murderer was sloppy then and inexperienced.
Her words came out hurried again as she could feel the climax to the horrible story building.
Scarlett Greenwood was arrested when not only the red fiber is linked to a scarf she purchased, but a partial print on the tape that was used to bind the first victim’s mouth is identified as hers.
Elsa realized why the name had seemed familiar. She remembered hearing in the news when she was arrested. It was a big deal. She was Virginia’s first convicted female serial killer. Scarlett, the love of Victor’s life, was a serial killer.
Elsa kept reading in dumbfounded shock when his world fell apart. He denied his affair with her, but there were always suspicions. His work was scrutinized and second-guessed, and he was ridiculed for not having seen what was staring him right in the face. Scarlett had used him to find out about the details of the investigation and he was so blinded by love that he gave her exactly what she wanted.
Trying to push Scarlett out of his mind, he filled his life with night-after-night of meaningless sex. He tried new business ventures and invested in real estate to build up his wealth to keep his mind busy. He attempted anything and everything to forget about the biggest mistake of his life, but nothing worked. With his writings becoming darker with each following passage, Elsa could see his light diminishing until there was seemingly none left.
He chastised himself endlessly. He blamed himself for the last two victim’s deaths. Everyone had considered him an intelligent and brilliant man, but why then hadn’t he seen the lies and deceit in her eyes? He tore himself down time-after-time, never giving himself an ounce of forgiveness. He was a failure like his mother had said all along. It went on and on and Elsa began to sob uncontrollably when she remembered the harsh words she had spoken to him.
The last chapter rocked her to her core.
I am a man who has lived a life of lies. I not only involuntarily assisted a serial killer, but I am the son of one. My fucked-up circle of life is complete. Why did I seek him out? I could’ve moved on from Scarlett. I could’ve learned to forgive myself, but now this changes everything. I understood her because I am her. The same insanity that runs through her veins, courses through mine. I am black inside, but I now have a new purpose. To study the human psyche on a deeper, darker level by using any means I deem necessary, ethical or otherwise. Fuck the rules. Fuck love. There is no going back to the man I once was. I am Mr. Black.
There were no more words on the pages, but the belt struck her raw flesh again with the same ferocity and Elsa screamed until her voice cracked. She curled up into a ball and rocked herself until her body and brain went numb.
“Why?” she wailed.
“Because I want you to understand who I am, like Scarlett understood. I want you to see that there is no light, Elsa, only darkness. Do you see now that being with me will only hurt you?” his voice trembled.
He spoke her name and not her number. When she looked up, it was Victor looking down at her and there was light, hidden far, far back behind his beautifully tortured and tear-filled eyes.
“I refuse to believe that,” she gasped out.
He brought the cow-hide up again and stepped back to allow himself room to wield the ghastly tool of torture. Elsa straightened up, her body now shaking uncontrollably from the pain and adrenaline surging through her veins, but she pushed her chin out to accept his will.
“Do it, Victor. Do it if it makes you feel better. Keep lying to yourself about who you think you are and do it.”
Victor winced. “Stop fucking calling me that!” The belt fell to the floor with a thud and he fisted his hair as he fell to his knees. “Why are you so God damned stubborn?” he whispered as he pulled her close.
His voice was foreign, sad and tormented, but when he touched her skin, the searing pain overwhelmed her and she let out a blood-curdling scream. She wanted to stay lucid and to hold him, but the burning heat traveled from her spine to her brain, and dizziness overcame her. Spots suddenly filled her vision and then, darkness.
22: Resilience
Heat... Unbelievable hotness and pain, scorching, searing, agonizing pain… Green sparkling eyes, soft lips, large hands caressing her face… whispered words… I’m wrong for you, Peach.
It was all a haze. Or was it a nightmare?
Elsa woke in a sweat, crying. She was in the master suite, alone and lying on her stomach. The soothing and somber sounds of Oblivion by Bastille were playing on her cell phone that lay next to her. Cool, wet washcloths were draped across her back and a ceiling fan above her was set to high, but the pain was still present. When she tried to sit up, a wave of nausea crashed against her body like waves against the ocean floor. She stilled her body until it passed.