Three

Somebody had told truth, perhaps his step mother (who was called Kimberly Woods Hansen, as far as he could remember) that it hurts when something is gone. The chunks of glasses were now gone from his body and now he thought it would have been a lot better if he hadn't been plucking them out for the whole night.

He was sweating in unusual way and what else can hurt a fresh injury than his own salty sweat. Downstairs, everything was cleaned up. In the morning he had figured out his flower vase, glass table, China clay vase and a porcelain nude woman was missing. All had been broken and now lay somewhere in trash can waiting for governmental sanitary van to approach and pick the pieces of them. While cleaning, he had found a tooth. Small one. He had knocked her frontal tooth out.

He couldn't remember how much time did it take for him to clean the mess, including stains of blood he had been scrubbing most of the time, whishing nobody comes to visit him next morning.

In sleepless night, his mind al had almost turned inside out. As an Aquarius man he was imagining things he hadn't thought he could ever imagine. He visited the fireplace for about a dozen of time within some hours before the hour hand turned six, in hope no child would come from there bellowing, "You fucking kidnapped me!"

Benjamin felt as if he had heard sound of a car's engine shut down in front of his house. The car shocked him and the person in it was nothing less than a nightmare. What he saw next from the window made him feel miserable. In a second he put his hand under the pillow and pulled out his unused Glock 26 Pistol which he had bought because it was cheaper than others. He had wished he wouldn't have to use it when he had purchased it about a year ago.

I don't know this person. He thought as he heard heavy knocks on the door. It sounded like the man outside was intending to break the door. It sounded like he was kicking on the door with heavy soled leather boot.

"Hansen! Unlock the door!" the man yelled from outside.

"What do you want?" Hansen said instead of pretending he wasn't in the house. He had his Glock fixed on the door. If anything went wrong from the man outside, he had made up his mind, he wouldn't even think twice to shoot the bastard through the door.

"I said open it!" sound came louder and so did knocks. The outsider was kicking the door for real now.

"You keep kicking my door and I'll kick your damn balls out, you faggot." was rep

from Hansen.

"Okay…open the door or I'll shoot you scumbag!" the roaring voice said.

I can do it before you even think about it.

"I'm Tim Deighan. I'm from law and enforcement side, a cop." Mr. Deighan calmly responded, "Now don't panic and open the door."

But this made him panic even more. A cop had arrived to his house and he had made dim-witted mistake. Instead of behaving like nothing wrong had happened, he behaved like nothing right had happened to him from his birth.

He couldn't shoot a cop. He didn't know if Tim Deighan had come alone or with some other men too (but he couldn't hear anybody else outside). Shooting a cop could get him lynched or get him shot right away if discovered red handed. Either way, he would have to mess with his life. On the other hand, even though he was innocent, charge of abduction cost way lesser than life imprisonment or death sentence.

Hansen put his gun inside the drawer and headed towards the door. He felt sorry for having his gun left inside the drawer then after.

Before Hansen could completely unlock the door, the door flung open inside, its wooden part got in contact with his forehead and what came next was a 280 pounds man with a Glock Pistol gripped in his hand, aimed straight at him.

The Glock's nozzle was pressed against his skinny vampire like cheek and he kept squinting down to its nozzle hoping nothing would come out of there as a result of his foolishness. He couldn't dare to look up at Deighan's face.

"What did you just put in here?" the middle aged cop with heavy arms and fancy Stalin like mustache said. For few seconds, Hansen presumed Stalin – one of the most hated historical figures, had come from straight from his grave just in order to scare the daylights out of him.

"N – N – N Nothing Mr –" he managed to mutter.

"I heard you shut the damn drawer you skinny." he snapped and he scanned the entire room which looked normal from every perspective. "Room's clean but your clothes stink." Then Deighan pushed him hard, "Something is unusual here Benjamin Hansen, isn't it?"

Hansen could spot his TPD Police Badge other than his pistol. For some seconds Deighan (who looked like he was wearing a fishing hat instead of sergeant hat) look all around and then abruptly started smelling the air, making a squeamish sound.

"Where's Marcello?" he snapped like he was inside a dark interrogation room and like Hansen was suspect of a misanthropist act.

"Who – who - Marcello?" Hansen breathed out like he was doing nothing more but whispering in thin air in front of a man who was double of his weight.

Both men then heard a heavy sound of something hit on the floor upstairs by something. In act of defense, Hansen did not even move his lips for he doubted what was source of sound upstairs, right above them. It seemed like somebody was stomping upstairs.

He doubted someone was doing it.

"Marcello," Deighan said, ignoring the sound right above them, "a man who walks in cloak, hood and has a rucksack on his shoulder and, most importantly, almost every night since few days he's been spotted here. Every night…every night he gets inside your house, each time with the sack on his shoulder…" Deighan whispered.

Hansen knew nothing what he was talking about. He had no idea about anyone entering in his house except a girl who had come from nowhere.

Upstairs, the girl could see a police car parked outside the house she was trapped in, through the glass window. The van would never have come in her sight if she hadn't heard sound of engine stop. She had to squint to her left, almost rolling her pupils back inside her eye sockets. It was somewhat like she used to pretend like a ghost by rolling her eyes upside when she wasn't confined. She could hear the cop was shouting, "Open the door." She could be saved if the cop heard her. She couldn't shout but could still stomp her tied feet. Anxiously, she yelled but she also knew no matter how loud she attempted to shout, her voice wasn't even going to reach in next room. She stomped the wooden floor.

She did it twice.

Then she didn't count and thought she had gone insane.