These twisted things

The jet ride ended peacefully at least. It was a relief to know that Leon held no hatred or anger towards me. It was definitely a tough situation though. To have no memory of the night that occurred, no memory at all of that strange man.

However I was happy to return to my home. I was very different from Leon and his family in their fortunes of property owning and renting. With their collected rich income they owned a fancy mansion themselves among other rich and famous down by the coast. My family however liked Their privacy after hours and instead owned a giant home out in the country with twenty acres; my home alone was about an hour from the airport where as Leon likely would be home in a quick twenty eight minutes.

The mansion itself was a massive wooden build, carefully constructed around a natural growth of trees, and the entire property was boxed in by mossy bricks and gates. But the outskirts of town did not mean less security was needed. If anything there was a higher need of security here, there was one guard on the outside of the gates. He was always armed with a bulletproof vest and armed with a pistol. Most people wouldn't see a pistol as much of a danger compared to most guns but the man at the gates was a bought out assassin and definitely new how to use the arsinal provided to the highest and most threatening extent.

"Hello Miss Ardensen." he greeted as he peeked at me through the window of my private driver. I simply nodded my head to greet him in return as he walked to a small bulletproof cubicle and hit a button to open the slide gates. The gates Recieved constant maintenance and opened quietly with minor clunks of metal as they welcomed me home.

It almost felt like entering a portal of safety as the car pulled up the smooth road and stopped infront of the house. Unlike alot of mansions it wasn't a two story. It was a one story that stretched out across the property with most of the bedrooms to the right side of the building, the offices and kitchen and dining room were central and to the very left was a small library, and a secret room I myself wasn't allowed into and knew nothing about its contents.

I let out a relieving sigh as I popped open the car door and stepped out. I stared up above at my home and took in the smell of intolerable lilacs that bloomed across the front near the gate, and also the gentle wiff of pine that came from the forest behind the house.

Overall the property contained ten security guards, four of which were actually hidden as household workers and the rest were armed well. Aside from the dangers of well trained humans,my father liked to keep three cane corsos that were allowed to roam the property. There was a light brown one called Zarah who was the only female, an all black one named Herc and the third one was a brown and black brindled male named Balloo.

My personal favourite of the three was Balloo, he was the youngest of the three being only four years of age. But he would also spend his time guarding me while the others patrolled the rest of the property. My father Arnold had often thought about getting another but me and mom often times said it wouldn't be a good idea.

The dogs were raised to be quite dutiful with hardcore training, minimalistic moments of bonding and attention and to top it off; to complement their size the dogs were given a handmade fresh blend of protein diet food, to focus on their muscle growth, strength, and size.

As I entered the two pine double doors of my home I took a moment of silence as I looked around the open space. It was silent and everything in the house was clean and still.

The dark hardwood floors were polished, clean and beautiful, the walls were wooden and very clean. The home itself was customized with your average Lodge aesthetic, lots of my father's and brothers prized kills were stuffed and mounted throughout the home. I never quite understood the fascination of keeping ones kills. As much as I adored a good fur coat. My father always grilled the lesson and understanding of knowing how to fetch one's own food into my brain. A valuable life lesson nonetheless.

I listened carefully as I took in my space of safety. It always smelt faintly of smoke in here, I had my father to blame for that. He worked often and travelled enough to match,but for the most part he would come home and stare at all his kills while he smoked a disgusting cigar back to back until the smoke and smell would absorb into the walls.

Noone was home. I could tell as I passed through the halls and out to the patio. There was far too much silence for anyone to be home.

Father's giveaway was his cigars, mother's give away was her loud phone calls with her friends, my brothers give away was having a ton of women here to show off the property. And for myself, I like to think myself as a quiet type.

We didn't really have a living room. Any quality time we spent was always to dine as a family or outside on the patio. We had a large sectional couch beneath an arching gazebo that would look out over a rounded moss stone fireplace that also would act as a grill or a smoker. A flat grate on the bottom to grill food, and a long metal rod much higher to dry and smoke food. Overall it was about five feet all the way around.

There was a custom made coffee table near the sectional, it was made of treated and polished oak, with antlers carefully carved and attached for legs. This is where I like to be. My laptop rested comfortably on it just where I had left it.

I took in the scenery of the long backyard, a large stretch of greenery and massive towering trees. In the distance Herc was chasing a squirrel through the brush. And my precious Balloo rested by our pool. It was an all natural pool, with water hyacinth as filters, and several fish inside.

My home was exotic and well bonded with nature and offered a sense of relief and freedom from the choas of society and my bad choices.

I took a seat on the sectional and opened my laptop. I had so many emails, most of which were nothing. But the one that caught my eye was from an unknown sender and had photo files attached.

What the fuck is this shit!

My dress, the dress I wore to the bar. It was handing up and torn with a message that read.

-Peekaboo gorgeous. Thanks for the gift I'll make sure to take good care of it. Until next time my mewling little kitten.

I had no words. Who was this idiot.