Beauty of Fear (working title)-Prologue

            Her name was Marie and
she didn’t know where she was or even when it was, as she felt the tears
rolling down her face mix with grime and sweat.  All she knew with
certainty was that for now at least, she was alone.  She could still smell him on her.  The smell of his sweet cologne and stale body odor had made
her gag as she struggled against him. 
God knows she had fought him, but physically and mentally she was
exhausted.  She knew at one point she had even managed to kick him where
she knew it should have hurt him. 
He didn’t let her go, even then and as far as she could tell, he
wouldn’t let her go and his response to 
her kick had been vicious and
The first blow had
knocked her head into the ground stunning her.  The kick to her side had
enveloped her in a wave of pain that crashed again and again on the breakers of
her ribs as he continued to strike at her.  As her consciousness had begun
to fade, the beating had become almost bearable, until there had been nothing
but the invitation of darkness.  Now,
waking, with her legs and hands duct-taped together, she could barely move and
her breath came in shallow gasps as the damage to her ribs threatened to rob
what little breath she had left.  The gag in her mouth was suffocating and
uncomfortable but seemed to have been placed as an afterthought, her tongue
easily pushing it out.  Marie knew
in her heart she wouldn’t be suffering for very much longer…she had lost all
track of time and didn’t know anymore, how long she had lain there since she
first woke.  A bone deep pain emanated from her shoulders, from the
unnatural position of her hands taped behind her.  Her body’s refusal to respond as she asked it to told her
she must have lain this way for hours at least.
Struggling against the tape
and the pain that radiated through her body, she tensed as she heard him
approaching again, his footfalls heavy and final.  Marie could feel him
when he entered unlit room, the only light filtering in from the hallway he
entered from.  The sound of her
short gasping breaths as she struggled for air, was the only sound heard, even
the sound of his footfalls had vanished, but she knew he was close, she could
smell him.  Her body reacted with shock when he placed his hands on her
once again, oblivious of how close he actually was to her.  The suddenness
of his hands on her and the absolute fear it provoked made her heart
practically pound out of her chest.  
She prayed that she could just die, now, but still she drew breath.  As he forcibly rolled her onto her
back, her eyes opened wide at the sight of the blade in his left hand. 
Bucking and fighting violently against the restraints, she fought to live with
renewed strength trying desperately to avoid the blade that she knew was meant
to end her life.  Marie felt the first slice against her right arm and a
white fire spread to her shoulder.  She screamed and screamed as she
fought to get away from him but no one could hear, no one came.  Her mind filled with thoughts of her
parents and little sister and how she wished she could have said goodbye.
 Instead her last memory of them was of a brief dinner before she went out
to a party, a party she never made it to.  A party she wished she had
never left home to go to. With each slice of the blade, she felt herself
slowing.  Her breath came in
shallow gasping breaths, and with a whispered “why?” she felt her limbs grow heavy until at last there was no
pain, no feeling, only deep peace and darkness.
Grunting in the darkness
and wiping the sweat beading on his forehead with a sleeve, he cut the tape
from around her wrists and adjusted her arms. “Stupid bitch had put up a
fight.”  Pulling a rosary out
of his pocket, he put it in her right hand, and gazed lovingly down at her.
 She was a beautiful girl, even now.  He wiped the blade of the knife
on his pants leg and licked it clean before putting it away in the special
holster he had made for it.  He took care of what belonged to him, always.
 Sadly, he looked at the swelling on her face and the bruises on her naked
body, wishing she hadn’t fought him so hard.  It would have been easier, for both of them.  He
finished positioning her and reached for his final accessory, an invitation of
sorts, which he put in her left hand.
Stepping back to admire his work, he
couldn’t help but smile, what he had started here could have only one end.
 It was up to him to make it happen, no one else, and until he could make
her his, he would find his release in other ways, as he had with the beautiful
Marie.  The pose he had placed her in was reminiscent of a scene he had
acted out once before with his love, an act he wanted to repeat.  Looking
at the rosary, he wondered if she would remember the meaning it had for them or
why he had used this particular color rosary.  It had been a long time
however maybe she had forgotten him. “No!” the anger that welled up
inside of him at the thought overwhelmed his calm at what he had accomplished. Taking
a deep breath he was determined that she would remember.  She would
remember him, as he had never forgotten her.  The years, the distance, the
love, they were all real and it was up to him to insure that love, his love won
out over everything else.  
Smiling at the card he had placed in
Marie’s other hand, he knew the fear that finding it would invoke as well as
the curiosity it would create, and relished the power he was feeling right now
as he was able to walk away from such a wonderful encounter.  The card
said it all, it was an invitation that she was sure to accept.  Being who
she was, she could do nothing less.
He brushed himself off
and nonchalantly walked away from his work.  Whistling to himself, he
figured Marie would be found within a day or two and then she would be told of
the “invitation of sorts” he had left for her.  Chuckling to himself
he could feel his core warming at the thought of possessing her.  She
would be his, one way or another.