Distraction #3
I watch her form as it slouches against the back of the metal folding chair.
Gently, I tied both of her ankles to the front legs of the chair with long, thick, black zip ties.
She barely moved when I tightened the heavy plastic strip on each ankle.
Her limp arms made it easy to secure her in place when they fell behind her.
I taped them with the same duct tape I had used to attach Jace’s body to the roll of carpet.
He’s still stored in the supply closet at Thalia’s apartment complex. He will be taken care of soon.
She stirs in her seat, and her lids start to open. Sitting across from her, I scrutinize with my arms folded across my chest.
“There she is,” I say softly. “You hit your head pretty hard. I didn’t think you were going to make it.” Her eyes go wide, and she frantically looks around my storage unit .
“Where the fuck am I?” She asks with tears already spilling down her cheeks. The tears don’t normally come this soon. This one will be easy to break.
“It doesn’t matter. You’re not going to make it out alive anyway.
” I calmly explain. She bites her lower lip and lets out a small cry.
My focus zeros in on her white canine as it pierces her skin.
A small drop of blood falls just past the black lipstick that I smeared across her lips mere hours ago.
My chair creaks when I stand, and I walk closer to her tied-up body.
I run my finger under her bottom lip and lick her blood off my finger.
She doesn't blink as my tongue covers my fingertip.
“Tastes fucking delectable.” I crouch down and whisper just above the tip of her ear.
I can't help the smug look on my face while she shifts her thighs in her chair. Even when she knows she’s going to die, she’s still willing to try to fuck anything that’s in front of her.
I straighten myself up and walk back towards my chair.
The bottom of her chair scrapes the concrete as she tries to move against her restraints.
I sit back down and pay close attention to the terrified woman in front of me, mentally dissecting her every move.
She’s fascinating, really. I study how her small, trembling body reacts to its new surroundings.
I wonder what she’ll do next. She opens her mouth and screams. Of course. Why do they always scream?
“Help! Someone! I’m in here!” Her voice is a big contrast from earlier this evening.
Her smoky, sensual tone has turned into a shrill scream mixed with violent sobbing.
She tries her best to move her seat, scraping the bottom of the legs along the concrete to create the most noise possible.
She stops her annoying screeching when she notices my long sigh .
“Are you done?” I enquire and her screams turn into loud wails. Her whole body vibrates as she silently sobs on the metal seat. Large tears fall on her flushed cheeks.
I rise up out of my chair and turn around to face my shelf–an arrangement of a few basic tools as well as the trophies I’ve collected.
I’ve kept a jar of eyes from the creep at the bar that tried to touch Thalia and his bloody hair tie or whatever women call these fucking things, Jace’s nose ring, and his small bag of cocaine.
Ashley’s wedding ring stands out, shining under the harsh lighting.
My eyes continue to trail over the many different shelves.
“Oh, there it is,” I say in a playful tone and grab my switchblade. I turn around and face her, spinning the tip of the knife on my finger. Peering into her eyes, I walk towards her chair.
She screams at full volume again.
I crouch to meet her at eye level and observe the scared little girl in front of me as her face turns a deeper shade of red, the louder she gets. Her lip trembles, and she stops. I closely line my face up with hers, the tips of our noses nearly touching.
“Scream all you want. I love it,” I admit. “No one can hear you. There is no one around for miles.” She moves her body in hopes of getting further away from me. There is no getting away from me. You’re all mine now.
“Where do you think you’re going to go?”
She turns her head and scans around the room as if she’s trying to conjure up an escape plan. It's pathetic, really. The look of defeat covers her face when she notices the padlock on the closed roll-up door .
“Why did you agree to get into my car?” I question, still spinning the tip of the knife on my index finger. “Didn’t anyone tell you not to get in a car with a stranger?”
“I-I-I…” She stammers.
“Look at you,” I shake my head. “Now at a loss for words.” I run the blade of my knife across my bottom lip.
“You know, you look pretty when you’re like this.
” Her tears and sweat make several of her dark purple strands stick to the side of her cheeks.
I glide the tip of the blade along a few of her thin fibers.
“I don’t want to hurt your pretty face,” I whisper next to her ear. I gently move my blade from the top of her neck to the neckline of her shirt. I watch more tears fall down her cheeks.
“Just sit back, beautiful. It’ll all be over soon.”
The sharp blade presses down hard on her shirt, starting at the neckline. It cuts smoothly through the silk threads. I pay close attention to the goosebumps and the beads of sweat that form in the middle of her chest.
Her body shivers and her chest heaves as I move the blade along her skin beneath the opened flaps of the silk fabric. The way she tenses from the sharp blade entering the skin allows the knife to glide down, just above her tits, with ease.
What’s left of her shirt hangs loosely off her body. My eyes stare at the trail of blood I left between her tits, ending just below her rib cage. I lick my lower lip at the sight of my mark contrasting against her pale skin.
“Tonight, you’re mine, and baby, we’re going to play.” Roughly, I grab her chin and kiss her swollen lips.
“Why me?” She probes through quiet sobs .
“Because you’re the next best thing.” I close my switchblade and slide it into the pocket of my black jeans. Her sad eyes look up at me as I rise to my feet, and I walk back towards the shelf. Her eyes trail me as I grab the tripod I had set up for Jace and set it next to the empty metal chair.
“What are you going to do to me?”
“Whatever the hell I want.” I grab her small, black purse. I sat it next to the metal shelf when I first brought her here.
“What are you doing with my stuff?” She questions angrily and I let out a small laugh while hunting for her phone. Even when she’s about to die, she’s still worried about material things. Just like Ashley. Fucking typical.
“Here it is.” I grab her phone from the tiny bag and she shifts in her seat the closer I get to her body. “Smile for me, baby.” Her chin is small in my hand as I hold her head up to her phone. “Good, girl.” I praise and watch how the phone opens up.
The device fits securely into the tripod that sits in front of her. In what seems like minutes of silence, I search through her many apps until I can find her camera. I hit the record button and step out of the way.
“Why are you recording me?”
“Because when you’re dead, I want to replay the sounds you make right before you meet your end,” I answer. Standing behind the tripod, I adjust the height, making sure my face will be out of view.
“Someone will come for me. They’ll notice I’m no longer at the club. There were witnesses. People saw me walk out with you to your car!” She cries. Her voice bouncing off the wall s
“If someone noticed or even cared that you were gone, they would have said something by now. No one is coming.” I look at her from behind the tripod and revel in her trembling body. The long red line that goes down her chest continues to entice my mind.
“You wear my mark so fucking well.” I move closer to her chair and take the switchblade from my pocket.
The clicking sound of the knife opening echoes in the small storage space.
Keeping my eyes on her, I lean in close and run the tip along her pale skin.
“I think it would look so much better with a few more.”
Before I begin running the sharp edge of the cold blade along her ivory skin, I look up at her terrified face.
Keep it that way. I love the way you look right now.
I study her reactions as the blade pushes deep into her flesh.
Her body jumps at the feeling of the serrated edge carving into her sternum.
She bites her lower lip again, and her tears fall out of her heavy lids.
Thick clots of red stream out in tandem with my knife as it cuts into her chest in slow motion.
I stop once the end of my new mark lines up with the first one. “Oh, pretty girl, you look like a fucking work of art.”
I stand back with my hand stroking my chin and admire the new canvas in front of me. She lets out small whimpers while I walk back to my chair and sit down on the cold metal surface. My stare is permanently on the blood streaming down her snow white chest as I pinch the blade between my fingers.
“What else are you going to do to me?"
“Terrible, awful things.” I look down at her exposed breasts and notice how her many tears have mixed with her blood.
“P-please. Just let me go,” she begs, and I ponder the thought. We could make this so much more enjoyable .
“Oh, I like that idea.” I stand up behind the tripod, stop the recording.
“You’re going to let me go?” It’s almost adorable the way the pitch raises in her voice at the question.
“I’m going to give you a head start.” Slowly, I make my way towards her chair.
“I’ll let you run. If you can get out before I catch you, you’re a free woman.
” I crouch down behind her and cut her wrists free from the silver duct tape binding them together.
Next, I sit on my knees and cut the zip ties around her ankles.
“What happens if you catch me?”
“You better hope that doesn’t fucking happen.”