Prologue

Profile #6

Name: Oldridge Peabody (a.k.a. The Collector)

Age: 53

Marital Status: Single

Net Worth: 1.2 Million Euro

Bio:

Kidnapper.

Enjoys creating fantasies which he forces onto his captives.

Unique Identifiers:

Teddy Bear hugging a heart, wrapped in barbed wire tattoo on left chest muscle. Rose tattoo on left wrist.

Enjoys role-playing, being in control, angers easily.

A large chandelier hung overhead, casting just enough light so that the guests gathered around the table could see their meals and one another. Throughout the room, shadows danced along the ancient stone walls, brought to life by the flickering candles lit for this special occasion.

Some might call the ambiance eerie, but Oldridge Peabody liked to think of it as intimate. Perfect for him and his fellow guests.

A large ten-seater dining table sat in the center of the room, covered in freshly pressed white linens made from the finest silks that France had to offer—only the best for his honored guests.

Tonight's menu consisted of duck a l'orange, with creamed spinach and mushrooms and steamed veggies on the side. A simple yet elegant meal. Tonight, they were celebrating. They were welcoming the newest member to their close circle of friends.

"Would you like some more wine?"Oldridge asked the woman sitting to his left.

The woman's eyes went wide as she glanced up at the young man sitting across from her. The young man nodded.

"Umm, yes, please," the woman responded, voice quivering as she spoke.

Oldridge shook his head at the young woman.

"Come now, what sort of woman leaves it up to a man to give her permission to have some more wine? If you would like some more wine, I shall give you some more wine. You just need to open your damn mouth and say so," he spat out.

That was the thing about Oldridge—his temperament could change in the blink of an eye.

"I… I'm sorry," the woman whispered under her breath, eyes focused on the plate in front of her.

In her lap, her fingers played with one another nervously. She stopped when she caught sight of Oldridge watching her with disapproval on his face.

The man hosting this elegant dinner let out a hopeless sigh, then stood up and walked over to a small table that sat against the wall and retrieved a carafe full of wine. He walked over and poured his young friend a glass before looking up at the rest of his guests.

"Would anyone else like some more wine?"

A young man and young woman both raised their hands slightly, being sure not to look their host in the eye.

Oldridge walked around the dining table, pouring wine for those who requested it. They were his friends, after all, and they deserved as much wine as they wished. They weren't going anywhere and didn't have to worry about driving.

Once he was done, he placed the carafe down next to him and resumed eating his dinner at the head of the table.

He really outdid himself this time. This duck was the most succulent and tender piece of meat he had ever whipped up. After all, they were celebrating.

Not enjoying the tension in the room, Oldridge looked up at his guests and smiled.

"So, does anyone have any thoughts as to where we should go for Christmas vacation this year? Last year we went skiing in Switzerland. Did we want to do something different this year?" Oldridge looked around the table at his guests, hopeful and excited to hear their suggestions.

The room remained silent, with no one knowing what to say.

"Well, I was thinking that perhaps we could take my yacht out for a two-week cruise around the Caribbean. Perhaps stop in Brazil and Puerto Vallarta for a few days?" Christian, one of the newer members of their group, suggested.

Oldridge watched as Christian's uncertain eyes traveled around the room, no doubt wondering if what he said was appropriate—if it was in line with the character he had been given.

Christian was new. He was still adjusting to the rules of their little club. While it annoyed Oldridge to no end, he would allow this minor break of character… this one time. Next time, he would suffer the consequences.

"Christian! That's a wonderful idea!" Oldridge cheered, raising his glass and taking a sip. "Two weeks of sun and alcohol sounds like just the ticket!"

Everyone around the table nodded. It was always best to agree with whatever the man at the head of the table said.

The guests continued to eat in silence. They all knew that the cruise would never happen. None of it would ever happen. It was all just a fantasy, a game that Oldridge liked to play—toy with their emotions. Remind them of the world that went on around them while they were trapped here… with him. Indulging in his fantasies. Playing in that dream-like realm where anything was possible. You could be anyone that you wanted to be… so long as Oldridge okayed it, of course. There were certain rules that everyone had to follow, and Oldridge regularly enforced those rules.

"So, did anyone see what Anthony was wearing at the wine tasting the other night? Whoever told him that he could pull off a fedora was not his friend," Oldridge commented before breaking into a fit of laughter.

His laugh was so genuine. So appreciative of the moment.

The room sat silent.

There was no Anthony.

There was no wine tasting.

Both were figments of Oldridge's imagination. A tale told to pass the time and keep the illusion of friendship and companionship alive.

Oldridge slammed his fist down on the table, causing his plate to shake and his glass of wine to teeter.

"Why is no one laughing?" he shouted, eyes blazing.

Startled, the guests began to laugh, forcing themselves to please the man who now controlled their lives. His fantasies were now their realities. Events lived in a smoke-like state—they were not there, but if you imagined them hard enough, they almost seemed to come alive and take shape. And Peabody loved that—the control, the fantasy. Being able to force these people… his so-called friends, to live lives with him—even if not real.

"That's better— Oh! Before I forget, I wanted to introduce Nancy to our little club. She has been with us for almost two weeks now, and I thought she was finally ready to join us for our friends' dinner. Try and make her feel at home," their host announced, extending his hand toward the terrified-looking woman seated at the far end of the table. One of her hands was handcuffed to her chair, while the other was free to use during dinner.

Nancy had been a little resistant to her new situation, so this was Oldridge's way of showing her that he now controlled her life. He decided when she was free to use all of her limbs. He decided when she was worthy enough to sit close to him. He decided when she was ready to join their little group for dinner.

"Welcome, Nancy," an older gentleman by the name of Simone greeted, giving her a quick glance upward and a head nod.

His eyes had dark rims under them, and his skin was pale from lack of sunlight. It had been just over two years since Simone had last been outside.

Oldridge smirked. He wondered if Simone even remembered what sunlight felt like against his skin. It was funny how quickly humans could forget things, like how a child slowly forgets the facial features of a parent who has passed away.

That was the power that Peabody held over his guests… his friends… who would never leave him. Who would never abandon him. Inside, he was smiling.

"Simone is a history professor," Oldridge chimed in. "He tells the most fascinating stories of things that happened long ago. You wouldn't believe how monstrous human beings can be. I mean the wars they fought, the blood they spilled, it's just all so… barbaric." Oldridge's eyes glazed over as he lost himself in some far-off memory.

No one dared to move or make a sound. When he got into this sort of headspace, it was always safer for everyone to just remain invisible.

Everyone held their breath and prayed.