The Renfield Syndrome by Clifford Beck - HTML preview

Chapter 31

In order to carry out his plan, Caspian needed to approach Ava, preferably in an isolated area. Doing what his will commanded would work only if he wasn’t caught doing it, and school was not the proper setting. He would have to find out where she lived and wait for enough time to pass to escape suspicion. Ideally, he wanted to see the broadcast on the news discussing an unknown assailant. His world would rise to perfection if he could accomplish this and come out legally unscathed. He would also have to watch her as she conducted her social life, wanting to spot someone who might be capable of some horrific attack. Ava was known by many and had a reputation for using her beauty as a lure for the games she played on young men who were genuinely interested in her. Any of them could be led to snap out of anger and commit a crime out of revenge. The question was, could Caspian put his plan into motion? Could he find the right person to take the fall for his vindictive intentions? The monster had now broken the lock on its cage and needed to be fed.

Everywhere Ava went, he was, and after several weeks of observation, Caspian found what he had been searching for. His name was Aiden, but because of his odd facial features, he was known as ‘weasel’ and taunted mercilessly. He seemed to hate everyone, and Caspian completely understood why, carrying a similar grudge against humankind as well. But while going to class one day, he noticed Ava and Aiden talking as they stood only inches from each other. Ava had already begun her game by caressing the side of his face with a soft hand. It was obvious that Aiden had been aroused. Anyone would know simply at a glance. Caspian assumed that his opportunity might be right in front of him and waited for the proper time to strike.

That time was soon to arrive, as on one moonless night Aiden was walking her home after yet another concert. Having also been in attendance, Caspian followed them, anticipating that Ava would do to Aiden what she had done to him. The concert had ended at ten o'clock, and the darkness of an autumn night served as perfect cover as Caspian kept a distance while at the same time remaining out of sight. Stopping in front of Ava’s house, the couple turned to each other as Aiden prepared for what should have been his first kiss. But Ava had a different idea as she guided his hand up to her breast and prepared to kiss him on his open mouth. Suddenly she backed up, and pushing him away, cursed at him. “You fucking asshole,” she began. This was followed by a sudden sharp slap.

“You keep your fucking nasty hands off me, you motherfucking weasel.” Aiden backed up, a look of shock appearing on his face.

“But, you started it,” he began. “You were the one who…”

Ava suddenly cut him off. If the game was to be successful, she had to be the victim, and Aiden had to be the one to be flooded with guilt, and it was working. His explanation was met with another hard slap, leaving a hand-shaped welt on the side of his face. “You motherfucker,” she continued. “Fucking touch me like that. I should have you killed, you fucking little weasel. Now get out of my sight. Go home and suck your momma’s titty, asshole.”

Ava was especially rough with Aiden, and for a time Caspian truly felt sorry for him, but his own plan was underway, and if it was not executed now, it might never be.

As Aiden walked away, the faint sound of crying could be heard, followed by the sound of laughter as Ava continued to chastise him. She enjoyed seeing his pain and looked forward to traumatizing her next victim. Now it was time. It had to look as though Aiden had carried out what would be a hideous crime, the act of a monster. As Ava watched Aiden cross the street, Caspian dodged through some nearby brushes and crouched down near the front of her parents's car. Still giggling, Ava turned and walked down the driveway, and passing the front of their car, was startled by a dark presence lunging out at her. It happened faster than she could scream—certainly faster than she could comprehend. A moment later she was unconscious as Caspian picked her up and carried her to a small wooded area nearby. With the trees under the cover of night, he dropped her to the ground. There was nothing kind or gentle in what he was about to do. The sudden shock of hitting the ground rattled Ava to her senses, and looking around, she saw a fuzzy dark shadow standing over her. “Aiden?” she said. “Is that you?” There was no response. This was part of the plan that his presence be mistaken for Aiden’s and that everything he did to her would be blamed on him.

“Aiden,” she continued. Her voice had now taken on a begging tone. “Look, I’m sorry. Please, just let me go home.”

She then made an offer she believed would settle the matter of her abusive treatment.

“We can have sex if you want,” she said. “Really, I’ll give you the best head you’ve ever had. Just please don’t do this.”

Caspian assumed she was referring to the possibility of being raped, and such an act had crossed his mind. But again logic prevailed, and knowing that evidence would be left behind, he chose to continue with his original plan. However, there was something he had not factored in. The monster had loosened itself from its chains and tore through the thin veil separating his psyche from the world of logic and consequences. Without a thought, Caspian suddenly ripped open her blouse, and tearing off her bra exposed her breasts. A scream began to make its way up from her terrified soul, but Caspian quickly muffled it with a single strike from a fist-sized rock planted hard against the side of her head. Anyone else might be afraid of the sudden silence, but Caspian welcomed it as the backdrop for what the monster had intended.

All the black and white movies he had watched became mixed into an amalgam of chaos, but one stood out from the rest. Clutching one of Ava’s breasts, he dropped his head down and took it deeply into his mouth. But this was not meant to be a sexual act, and biting through her skin, he felt it break as blood began to fill his mouth. This sensation only served to further the violence of his attack, and clenching his jaw, he felt the underlying tissue pop as more blood poured out from the wound. Caspian, now mimicking what he believed a vampire might do, wriggled his head from side to side until the tissue tore away completely. Sitting up, he found himself with a mouthful of fat, breast tissue, and blood. He had inadvertently swallowed some of the blood, but the taste had triggered something he had not expected—something primal. Only when his mouth was full did Caspian sit up straight, and bending his head down, he mumbled one word. “Mommy!”

He saw Ava as his mother in more ways than one. He saw her as the target of his rage but also as the source of comfort, something he should have received years ago. But somehow, he was able to take aim with his rage and nourish his infantile needs during the course of his attack. As her consciousness faded, Caspian felt a growing arousal. But before he could unzip his pants to commit a final act of revenge, what had been the driving force of sexual excitement turned to a sudden release. Caspian let out a loud groan as the reflex played out. Killing her was an unintentional bonus that led him to reenact the day he murdered his mother with a substance that would never be recovered.

But his scream brought the wrong kind of attention as people close by turned on their lights and left their houses to investigate. In Gloversville, some were armed and worried about the fate of the neighborhood children stepped out with weapons loaded and drawn. The state of New York had given its citizens the right to open carry, and interpreting the new law as a sign they were no longer safe, they did what the new law now allowed.

“Where is he?!” one man yelled. Trying to find the proper direction, a woman, armed with a forty-five-caliber pistol, pointed to a patch of woods nearby.

“Over there!” she yelled. “It had to come from over there!”

Hearing their voices as they began their search, Caspian turned and backtracked his way out, and crossing the dimly lit street, cut through a series of backyards until he got to Lincoln Street. He noticed a pool in the background of a greenhouse, and knowing he had been covered in blood and tissue, resorted to washing it off in the pool. The chlorine would certainly destroy what had collected on his clothes, hair, and skin, but he had to be quiet about it so as not to bring out the residents of the property. It wasn’t soon after that he felt something lurch in his stomach. He had spent so much time feasting on what his mind saw as his mother that he forgot that blood, as well as raw tissue, acts as emetics. Before he could get out of the pool, everything he had consumed had suddenly forced its way up. Covering his mouth, Caspian tried to hold it back as he ran from the pool and into the backyard of a red house on the corner. A water faucet presented itself from the back of the house just above a window to the cellar. There he bent down and let loose the bloody remnants of what he would later realize was his first kill.

After emptying his stomach, Caspian turned on the faucet just enough to get a quiet trickle, and cupping his hands together, was able to gather enough water to wash his face. Gathering more, he drank deeply, trying to wash the disgusting taste of blood and tissue from his mouth and stomach. At the time, he found the taste nourishing, satisfying his dark soul. Now, he found the taste of raw human meat disgusting beyond words and vowed never to do this again. But given his state of mind, Caspian wasn’t sure he would be able to keep his promise. Sometimes the most important promises aren’t those made to a friend or intimate lover. They are the ones you make for yourself.