The light of the moon and the stars were the only thing that illuminated the darkened, deserted street that night. Nothing could be heard but the sound of stilettos on pavement that was wet with fresh rain that had ceased its decent to the Earth a mere ten minutes before the young woman found herself passing through that way as she headed home from a party.
She thought she was alone. She thought she was safe. She thought that a mobile phone, clutched in her left hand was enough to keep her safe. How wrong she was on all accounts.
He kept to the shadows with his back to the exterior walls of the buildings he passed. He followed her closely, never letting her out of his sight. His tread was deliberate and careful. His shoes made no sound as moved. He knew what he was doing. He knew the routine so well it was like an elaborate dance. Each movement well thought out and planned. He had done this before. He knew the risks and he knew the what the aftermath would be. What it always was. But he also knew how to survive. To get past the crushing guilt he would always feel. To remember that what he was doing was what he truly wanted. What truly was right. He knew how to make it through unsuspected. Yes. He knew what to do.
Suddenly, the young woman stumbled, her stilettos giving out underneath her, causing her to tumble to the ground, letting out a hiss from the pain that seared through her ankle from the fall. He smiled from the shadows. This was his moment. He crept up silently behind her, taking a gun from the waistband of his jeans. She tried to get to her feet, but never got the chance. The gun collided with the back of her head and her world faded to blackness in only a moment. He hadn’t killed her. No. That would come later. Now, he needed to move.
Putting the gun back where he had been storing it before the attack, he picked up the unconscious body, cradling it to his chest. He walked carefully but quickly. The place he needed to get to was not far away by foot, but he didn’t want to risk her regaining consciousness. He also didn’t want to risk being seen. As he walked, the night wind blew cold against him, but the girl’s body heat provided him with warmth. He couldn’t help but smile to himself at the perfect contrast.
It was not long before he reached his destination. Once there, he placed her on a metal table that was fitted with strong leather restraints. He removed the stilettos that had caused her such trouble, placing them neatly beside him. Her phone, which he had slipped into the back pocket of his jeans, was placed on the chair that sat beside the table. Her jewelry was removed and soon joined the phone. He took a knife from the box stored beneath the table and slid the sharp metal over the thin material of the dark red strapless dress. After he had removed it, leaving her with nothing but her bra and underwear, he draped the article of clothing over the chair and proceeded to restrain her hands and feet. After that, all he could do was wait.777Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡvoBXkbZLct
*****777Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡVx6BBfK09y
The first thing she noticed when she slowly began to regain consciousness was the feeling of cold. She gave an uncontrolled shiver as the air drifted over her bare skin. That was the point when she realised that her dress was missing. Dread and terror filled her clearing mind. Fear made it hard for her to breathe. Cold metal pressed against her back and restraints dug painfully into her wrists and ankles. She was so afraid. She didn’t know what was going on.
Her eyes flickered open and she saw her dress lying on the chair. A terrified tear slipped from her eye as she wondered what was going on and who could do that to her. Her wonderings were answered a moment later as the man stepped closer. His eyes were emotionless and his lips were curved into a smirk.
Her heart beat faster. Who was he?
“It was people like you that killed my brother,” he said calmly, almost conversationally, as he examined the knife he held in his right hand.
“W-what do you mean?” she asked, voice shaking as she struggled to speak through her fear.
“The club last week,” he explained, his voice maintaining that dangerous, deceptively calm tone, “The lovely young lesbian couple just minding their own business. Do you remember what you said? Do you remember calling out ‘Freaks’ or ‘Faggots’ or ‘Fags aren’t welcome here’?”
As he spoke, he circled her slowly. She said nothing.
“What?” he snapped, “Can you not remember? Can you not find your voice? Did it desert you after you decided to be such an intolerant little bitch?” By the end, his temper had flared and shouted the question, slamming his empty fist against the table and startling her into giving out a small shriek. At the sound, he gave a small smile once more.
He leaned down so that his lips were right by her ear and whispered, “I like to hear you scream.”
The intensity of her fear grew so much that she felt like she couldn’t breathe. She flinched away from him as much as the restraints would allow, terrified sobs wracking her frame.
He stood back and straightened, and poised the knife over her arm. He only made a shallow cut. It ran from her elbow to her wrist. She screamed as the pain seared through the line he had created. If he felt any guilt at what he was doing, he didn’t show it. He just kept talking. Almost as though he were simply striking up a conversation.
“My brother was killed by a bunch of drunk, homophobic idiots.” Another cut, breaking the delicate skin of her stomach. Another scream, breaking through the night. “He was just minding his own business really. A nice night with his boyfriend. Great guys. Both of them.” The knife slide over her thigh, leaving behind a letter T. “Apparently not to the idiots who felt that he should die.” A series cuts to her cheek to form the letter J. “They cornered him in an alleyway after he and his boyfriend had parted ways. They took a knife, just like this one, and they stabbed him in the heart. Then they left him to rot alone in the dark with no guilt and no remorse. To them, it was right. And now, to make up for it, you are going to pay.”
“Please,” she begged, words harsh through her sobs, “I’m not them. I didn’t kill your brother.”
His smile was sad as he looked at her and poised the knife above her heart. “Sorry. But you’re close enough.”
He plunged the knife into her chest and stood back to admire his work. “Close enough.”
ns 18.68.41.139da2
