Cliff kept me in his room after that day. Despite everything that happened, he wasn't harsh to me, but somehow it was a worse fate than my previous imprisonment in the stuffy basement. Every night when he returned from wherever he had been, he would pat the bed as a invitation to come sleep on the soft cushion instead of the hard floor, but I couldn't bring myself to look at him, let alone sleep next to him. Sometimes, when he was home, he would come and talk to me while he did work, but I refused to speak to him; I had nothing to say.

I spent most of the time in the corner farthest from where he usually sat at his desk. I hardly ate anything, this time out a true lack or appetite. He prompted me, but even when I was starving, I would just shake my head and turn away. Though I have to admit, he tried. He would leave it with me until whatever it was he made was cold or going bad. Sometimes the only time he would take it away was when I would finally kick it clear across the room and make a mess. Part of me hoped that would make him angry, angry enough to kill me and end my misery, but he never did. 

Unfortunately, I would probably be dead if I never ate, so whenever he wasn't looking, I would sneak a bite that was unnoticeable just by looking. Most of the time, I got away with it, but not always. He was shuffling some papers one day, after he had left me with a bowl of hot soup when I slowly reached forward and picked up the spoon. Scooping up a small bite, I brought the liquid to my lips. I didn't notice he had turned back around and was watching me with a hopeful smile until I had swallowed my first bite. "You can eat more than that," he said.

I stiffened and raised my eyes to his, my expression going hard.

He came and sat in front of me, nudging the bowl forward. "Go on," he said.

I did not "go on". Instead, I dropped the spoon back in the bowl with a clatter and pulled my legs away from him.

He sighed. "Even after getting caught in the act you still refuse..." He chuckled, but it was an exhausted sound. "You really are stubborn."

"Only with assholes like you," I said coldly.

He frowned. "I could be a real asshole and beat you when you don't do what I want," he said.

His threat couldn't possibly have scared me. After all but wishing for death, his threats of pain were of little intimidation. "Go right ahead. It won't change anything..." I told him, turning away.

Cliff was quiet for a second or two, looking as through there was something he wanted to say but couldn't quite find the words. Finally, he blurted, "I want you to trust me."

If that was what he had been struggling to say, he definitely didn't word it right. However, upon seeing how serious he was, I couldn't help myself; I burst out laughing. "Oh, God! You must be joking!" I wheezed. "What makes you think I will ever trust you after what you've done? I thought I was kidnapped by a murdered not a comedian!"

I cackled at my own joke like it was pure gold, but Cliff didn't laugh. "What have I done to make you not trust me?" he asked, genuinely concerned.

I did my best to swallow back the rest of my laughter, but I couldn't help snickering through my words. "Well, let me list them off then. You murdered my family, kiddnaped me, raped me." I inhaled deeply as I did my best not to grin too much. "Do I need to go on, because I really can."

He was frowning at me. "I could've killed you too, you know?"

My last laugh sounded like a slap to the face. "No. That's the worse part!" I knocked the bowl of soup over, making a mess of the floor, as I stood up to glare at him, my humor completely evaporating. "You brought me here to torture me with the knowledge that my parents and brother were killed by the man holding me hostage. I wish you had killed me."

For a killer, his expression was very easily read: regret. However, he stood his ground and got to his feet too, looming over me by about a half a foot. "I can still do that," he threatened.

I didn't reply. As he stooped to pick up the bowl that had now been emptied all over the floor, I grabbed up the heavy chain and marched away to sit in a different corner; anything to get away from him. If he wanted to kill me then he could go right ahead, but I wasn't going to let him have the satisfaction of hearing my beg for it.

After leaving and returning with a cloth to clean up the mess, Cliff took a deep breath. "I'm going to be late tonight. If you get bored, the remote to the TV is on the nightstand," he said as he walked to the door. "Don't stay up too late."

I gave him a sour look that he appeared disappointed to see. However, when the door shut, I dropped my chin to my knees, a knot forming in my throat. I hated it when he was nice to me, pretending like everything was alright and that he was okay with the way I treated him. It made me feel like the enemy; it made hating him so much more more difficult.

*******

Sam leaned on the wall across from James. He was sorting through some files that the two had retrieved concerning the past few murders. Most of what they had found was the same as before; they were identical kills with no connection between the families. James was convinced there had to be a link, but Sam wasn't so sure. These families all lived completely separate lives with different religions, pastimes; even their financial lives were drastically different. No, Sam didn't think the past murders were going to help. He was thinking about that guy they had investigated. Clifford Dine.

Unable to get him out of his head, Sam walked to the computer and searched him up. An article, buried deep in the system of records caught his eyes as he scrolled. "James?" he said.

"What is it?" James asked.

Sam turned the screen so that his partner could see it. "How did we miss this?" he asked.

James stood up and walked closer to read the article aloud:

"A horrific accident involving a semi devastates family of four. Mr. and Mrs. Dine, a couple of professors at a nearby community college were crushed in their seats by the semi-truck that flipped over onto their car as they drove their two sons, Clifford Dine (15) and Tyler Dine (11), to school. While the oldest boy, Clifford, was thrown from his seat and came out of the accident with only a broken arm, Tyler suffered a more serious wound to the neck, inflicted by a piece of debris from the car. He died on route to the hospital. Custody of Clifford, the only survivor of the accident, is still being discussed, but sources have indicated that without any living relatives to take him in, he may end up being the newest victim to the legal system."

Sam watched James expression turn from curious to grave as he read. "This didn't come up in my preliminary search on Dine. I thought I looked through everything."

Sam shook his head. "Apparently not," he said. "But this sounds too similar to be a coincidence. Zane is the older son, and as far as we know, he's still alive. But his brother was killed by a cut to the throat, just like Dine's younger brother. I don't think that's an accident."

"How do we explain the other murders?" James asked. "None of the other kids were taken."

Sam couldn't give him an answer that either of them thought was adequate, but they agreed that there was definitely more to be looked into when it came to Dine's background. "We need to go back and check the whole property," Sam said. "This time with a warrant."

*******

Cliff sighed as he stopped the car to sit idling in the driveway. He was worried about Zane. He could be so stubborn sometimes; so stubborn, Cliff was anxious about leaving him alone for extended periods of time. He didn't really expect the kid to do something drastic like gnaw his own foot off like an animal just to get away, but Cliff honestly wouldn't put it past him. Though nothing had happened yet, Cliff always dreaded entering the bedroom after a long day at work for fear of what he may find, or in some scenarios, not find.

Cliff sighed a second time, this time as he turned the car off and got out. It was way past midnight, so he was sure Zane was asleep. After setting his things down on the table, Cliff took the garbage out and washed the dishes. All the while, he glance at the quiet door of his bedroom.

When he finished doing the evening chores, he washed his hands and made his way to the bedroom. Cliff was relieved to see Zane was in the same corner he was always in. His eyes were closed, and his mouth was open just slightly as he slept, arms crossed in front of his chest.

Cliff smiled softly as he entered the room. Quietly, he lowered his bulky form to the floor in front of Zane and settled in to watch him for a while. He was stubborn and rude, but he was also scared and lost. Part of the reason Cliff never got truly angry with him was because he knew the pain he was experiencing. Cliff just wanted to hold him tight and promise to keep him safe, the way no one had ever done for him.

*******

"Clifford, please," an elderly lady said as she tried to stop Cliff from leaving the room.

"Don't say my name! I don't know you, and I don't want to," Cliff snapped at her. He had just been informed for not the first time that a stranger, this woman he had never met before, had agreed to foster him. He wanted nothing to do with her.

"I know this isn't easy," she said. "But I'll take good care of you. Why don't we start by decorating a room? You can choose any room you want when we get to my house."

"I don't want a room in your house," Cliff said. "You only want me for the money you'll get out of pretending to care. I want to go home."

This angered the old woman and she looked like she might blow. However, after taking two deep breaths, she settled herself. "That's not true at all, Clifford. I simply want to take care of you," she said, putting on a fake smile. "Now, let's go home. We can make some popcorn and watch a movie."

She stepped towards the boy, but he jerked his arm away when she tried to grab him. "No!" he said. He backed away from her like an animal from a predator, reaching behind him in search of the door handle. "I won't go anywhere with you."

Before she or anyone else in the room could speak, Cliff found the door and threw it open. He ran down the hall towards the elevator, pressing frantically at the buttons as the woman and many others raced out of the room to stop him. He was able to get on the elevator before anyone caught up to him, and as soon as he made it to the first floor, he bolted from the building to lose himself in the crowds of afternoon foot traffic.

*******

Irritated at the memory he had spent so long trying to keep bottled inside, Cliff got to his feet and entered the bathroom. As he passed the mirror, he glared at his reflection. It's not like he had ever expected much except pity, but it still stung when they would try to pertend to comfort him. He had only been a teenager, but he knew how the legal system worked. The only thing those foster families cared about was money. They had no right to pretend like they knew what he had gone through or make up lies about the day when it would all suddenly get better. It would never get better. Even after nine years of unwanted memories, it hadn't gotten better.

Rowen would say that just being able to look back on everything and address his hardships was progress all by itself, but Cliff had stopped taking his advice years ago. After recent events, thinking of Rowen turned Cliff's stomach, so he shoved the thought away and turned the shower on. After forty-five minutes under the scalding heat to sear away any lasting nerves, he stepped out and got dressed. He walked back into the bedroom, a towl around his neck, to throw an affectionate glance at Zane, who was still sleeping in the corner. 

Cliff was toying with the thought of attempting to carry him to the bed so that he might sleep more comfortably when there was a knock on the front door. Cliff tossed his towel down on the bed with a frown. Who could that be at this hour of the night? The knocks didn't cease, so after a moment's hesitation, Cliff ventured out to answer the door.

*******

Subscribe to my YouTube at: Melanie Eberheart

Donate to my Patreon at: patreon.com/MelanieEberheart

Buy me a coffee on my Ko-fi at: Ko-fi.com/melanie_eberheart

Tweet me on Twitter at: twitter.com/MelanieEberhea1

Check out my Facebook at: www.facebook.com/melanie.eberheart.1

Or follow me on Tumblr at: nekosaysmeow333

-Nekoco