It was almost midnight and the air was surprisingly cold for a mid-September night. The lights in the house were out now. The girl was probably sleeping, but he wasn't going to take any chances. Varun lighted his cigarette and took a drag. With fake beard and moustache covering his face, he wore glasses to look as different from the usual as possible. He felt impatience rising in him, but he was in control. It was a queer combination of feelings that were coursing through his veins like drugs. How would it feel to be both extremely impatient and excellently in control of oneself? He thought he knew exactly how it felt.

He sat there in the public park bench from where her house was distantly visible. He closed his eyes as he took in another drag of the addictive poison. He wasn't a heavy smoker, but he allowed himself the luxury every once in a while when he felt beyond himself. Tonight was that time. His mind was heavy with images of girls that he had killed and enjoyed afterwards. Sometimes it was fun when they were alive and fighting, but mostly he liked them dead, their bodies devoted to him, a well-earned prize. He recalled how it felt as they died, life leaving their bodies breath by breath and how it felt afterwards as they served him, unopposing and devout. He closed his eyes as a wave of pleasure passed through his body.

Trying to gain the control back, he quickly stood up,  walked around a bit and lighted another cigarette. It felt like after a very long time he was going on a hunt for the very pleasure of it instead of money. He felt high and he was scared that he might not be able to stop himself once he caught her. But he knew he had to wait.

The caller- that's how Varun has started referring the man to himself- had called earlier this evening. Varun was at first infuriated by the change in the plans because there was no layout done at all- the only agenda on the table for the day was delivering that weird letter to the girl. Varun had expected a bit of scaring and goofing around would be involved, but now he had to kidnap her tonight.

He had outright refused to do so. He was a man of planning, innovation not really his cup of tea. He always planned everything, that's how he had survived so long after all. He couldn't afford to be on a ledge- it was a wrinkle in the clearly laid out map. But the caller was adamant that it must be done today. He said that the plan was already made and everything was settled and that was it. Varun had decided he wanted out of this case money or no money- he couldn't go on like this.

But the caller had other ideas. He recalled the conversation that had taken an unexpected turn...

"If you already have planned everything out, why don't you do it on your own then?" Varun seethed.

"I can't afford to be involved. Not right now, in this part at least. And you can't get out of it at this moment either." The caller was calm and so sure of himself that Varun felt he might combust due to anger if he heard his metallic voice again.

"I can't get out of it? You really wanna try that?"

"Oh, do you want to?" The voice threatened but maintained its composure. "Your first target was your high school teacher, wasn't it? And you killed her because she scolded you for stuttering while you read a poem. Is that true?" He said the last line exactly the way that his high school teacher did- 'is daht trueeee?'

Varun didn't know how the man could have known something like this, but he did. The memories of that awful classroom suddenly came fresh in his mind. The teacher always reminded him of some cartoon character- busty and big butt, red lipstick that was always smearing her teeth, a cheap perfume that made him nauseous as she passed through the class and singing everything in her high-pitched voice as if she were talking to kindergarteners instead highschoolers. The desire to be wanted and alluring was so strong in her that it reeked worst than her perfume, and the sweet persona that she tried to project was painted as bad as her lipstick and Varun thought there couldn't be a more disgusting person than her on the earth.

"Are you back from the little trip in your head? If so, here's a bit more. After that  first crime, you did many small robberies, a few cases of homicide and because of your impeccable intelligence and genius, and laziness of Police department, never got caught." The man said, reminding him that he was on a call and not in that high school classroom which always smelled of wet cement. Varun was shocked and felt scared. It was hard to admit and he didn't want to admit it but he was scared shitless. Who can dig that deep just to ensure that he might not end up ditching them? But someone did, and Varun felt red flags flash in his head. He felt trapped, something that he hadn't felt since his childhood.

Although he knew it was gonna be useless, he asked anyway, "What else do you know? And how?"

"You know I won't tell you that, don't you? So why don't we get down to the business and I'll let you know you what you really should know?"

When Varun didn't say anything, he went on. "I know a lot else about you. And I think you believe me on that. I just need some things from the girl and then you can do whatever you like with her. But you have to bring her to me first, and alive. We only have tonight, because Police will be more and more involved from tomorrow onwards."

Varun took in another drag and watched the smoke as it flew skywards. The rest of the call was about how he would bring the girl to a place, which again, was told to him. He had quietly listened to the instructions and agreed to do what was required. The man promised extra money, but Varun wasn't doing it for money anymore.

He felt cornered and unsafe. There was someone out there who knew more about him than he could afford anyone to know and that had left him in a wild and mad state of mind. His insides were raging with the anger he had long forgotten. He was suddenly pushed in the same state of mind as his early days when he was an uncontrolled beast. He felt as if he needed this, it was his nature that called to him. He wanted the control back. And tonight would bring him the satisfaction, the assurance that he needed. 

For one night, he was going to let go of the care. He was gonna enjoy it. This was beyond money now. He was not on an assignment tonight, he was on a hunt. He took in the smell of the night air and allowed himself to smile.

***

It was 2 in the morning. Now was the time. 

He made his way towards her house on the empty road- he had parked his car nearby for easy and quick access. With every step that he took, he felt himself growing more and more focused. He knew the guy was in there too tonight. He might be a problem if he isn't a heavy sleeper.  Actually, it might also be a problem if they are both awake. And then there's the camera. He just had to rely on his disguise and the face mask and gloves that he was wearing. Body built and height was still an issue, but he'll have to go with it. Well, fuck it. I have to do it anyway. There's no way out of it. 

He reached in front of her house and but instead of going for the door, he turned towards the right side of the house. He came almost a half-circle of the house when he finally saw the small balcony that should lead to Riya's room. He took out one of several different pins in his pocket and got to work. The locks of the house were changed and these were difficult to pick but he finally unlocked the door after the hard work of almost 20 minutes. Genius requires fucking patience to work, he thought and then pushed the door open and entered the house through the darkroom. 

Before moving forward, he reminded himself that he needed to get the girl alive. His first instinct every time a girl created some problem was to quiet them forever. He had experience in carrying dead bodies around, not alive ones. He needed to be extra careful this time, so he stopped and listened for a while for any noise in the room. Once he was sure of it, he entered the dark hall and looked around. He could see the guy sleeping in the living room beside the sofa. 

Varun was confused at the moment about his next step. He didn't want to get involved with the guy, not being completely aware of his possible strength. But what if Amyra caused noise in case he went for her first? He considered his options. The best way was to avoid any commotion at the moment, he decided.

Taking out the bottle of chloroform, he headed towards the place where the guy was sleeping. He took a few minutes to observe the man who seemed to be sleeping soundly. Hmm... No need for any trouble. He sprinkled a few drops of the liquid on the pillowcase and mattress near the head of the guy. This wouldn't last too long, but give him some crucial minutes to deal with Amyra. He hoped the dosage would be enough. He waited for a few minutes, still observing the guy and then quietly stood up and went towards another room, which he suspected to be Amyra's.

He knocked at the door lightly once and then knocked again a bit louder. He was waiting patiently, there was no need to screw things up. He kept knocking, again and again, each time a bit louder than earlier, and grateful that there was a considerable distance between her room and the place where the guy was sleeping. 

And finally, the door opened and a very sleepy Amyra appeared who didn't seem to be able to grasp that there was a stranger standing in front of her. Varun acted fast. Before she could understand or make sense of anything at all, he grabbed her by her throat and pressed against her arteries until she fell unconscious. He quickly injected the needle in her arms that would make sure she stayed out for a while. He then lifted her on his shoulders and started walking out of the house. His car was already waiting outside, about a minute walk away in the back alley- no one would notice them, he was sure.

Within the next 30 minutes, he had successfully driven out of the locality, carefully following the directions given to him by the caller. He smoked cigarette after cigarettes hoping nothing would go wrong now. He had taken care of most of the things, everything should be fine. The most difficult part was done now. Taking out his cellphone, he called the man who picked up at the first ring. "I've got her."

***

Amyra woke up with a severe headache but even though she was conscious, she was having a problem opening her eyes that wanted to remain close. She felt overwhelmed with pain and a growing discomfort that she realised after a minute was the result of being bound and gagged.

Her senses were disoriented and her whole body was screaming at her with intense pain. She couldn't move her neck which was sprained because of being in one single position for too long. With great effort, she opened her eyes for a split second which quickly closed back on its own accord. The world was a warm black when her eyes were closed and it was blazing fire when she opened them, yet her instincts told her to try and she did. 

After several attempts, she finally managed to open her eyes and take a proper look at her surroundings, which wasn't much to look at- at least not from her position. She was lying on the hard ground on the left side of her body- which was painfully sore and aching- and her vision of the place was obstructed. She tried to shift, to somehow make herself comfortable in this highly uncomfortable situation and the skin on her bare left arm got scratched due to the unfurnished, broken cement floor. Yet she tried, feeling the sting of the scratch more and more as she shifted, trying to lift her head up to look around.

She cried as her head hit back on the floor again in her attempt to sit up. It wasn't merely a headache which was giving her such pain, there must be a bad wound on the back of her head for it to cause such monstrous pain. At that moment, Amyra could have been thinking about many things, but all she cared about was sitting straight somehow- it seemed vital to her. And finally, she did manage to pull herself up in a sitting position- at the cost of several more bruises and scratches on her body.

It was then that she finally paid attention to her surroundings and spared thoughts to what brought her here. And then her eyes landed at the far corner of the filthy and dim-lit room where she could see a man sitting in a chair, observing her. At least it seemed like he was observing her because he was looking in her direction only. But Amyra realised he wasn't exactly looking at her, he seemed to be thinking about something, anger etched on his face which scared her to her bones. 

Amyra stayed quiet, she couldn't speak at all out of fear and rested her head against the wall behind her. Her hands and legs were sore due to the hard ropes and her mouth bruised because of the unforgiving gag- her whole body was an epitome of misery and pain. She felt thirsty and scared, and somehow, she realised at that moment that thirst and fear were never good together- they were worst partners and always caused more than fair amount of grief to their host. Maybe she could have managed hunger, but thirst was misery incarnated and her resolve not to speak crumbled around her.

She meekly spoke through the gag, a combination of illegible words escaped her lips, begging for water. After five minutes, she hoped she had stayed thirsty all night.

The man moved, carrying a water bottle in his hands and casually stood in front of her. She could see he was pissed at something- or someone, maybe her. He quietly bent down and pulled the rag out of her mouth, letting water flow over her face. Amyra opened her mouth and drank whatever amount of the life-saving liquid could go in her mouth. She drank as some water went in her mouth and rest soaked her t-shirt. She felt humiliated drinking this way, but she also felt the relief and healing that water brought.

Soon, when the bottle was empty, the man threw it away and stayed where he was, still angrily gazing at Amyra. She was still thirsty, a very, very small part of her mind worrying about the water that had been wasted and could have been used to drink if the man held the bottle properly. But all those thoughts went silent when a huge blow landed across her cheeks. 

The searing pain blinded her for a moment and she was shocked into silence. But he didn't stop there. There were more slaps- one after the other until he was breathing hard and tired. But Amyra didn't notice that he was tired. The pain had engulfed every part of her being- her eyes, her skin, her body- it was all pain and burn. She felt like she knew what the fire of hell must feel like- but that was the beginning of the hell.

Her unconscious form briefly came back to senses when she heard the man screaming loudly, anger radiating out of him so dark and blinding that she could feel it even through the thick blanket of physical affliction. She crawled backwards out of fear, but she wasn't crying yet. She wasn't crying because the pain was too much to cry. Her existence became a twisted amalgamation of agony and fear. She whimpered and regretted whimpering as another tight slap landed across her cheeks. Her head thudded against the wall and she spat out blood and a tooth- was it a molar or one of her wisdom teeth? She couldn't tell because she felt the giant mouth of unconsciousness swallow her.

Before she passed out, one thing that she remembered apart from the pain was a scream of frustration and a hand holding her face, eyes boring into hers. She remembered the face of the man was twisted with anger- to her, it was the face of the devil himself. And then the devil asked, seething with anger, "What have you got me involved in?" She saw that for some funny, unknown reason, the devil was as scared as she was. And then she slept and a very, very small part of her smiled within the spreading blanket of darkness as she realised that the fear was mutual.