Chapter One
Although absolutely terrified,
more terrified than she’d ever been in her entire twenty years of life, Maria
also felt extremely tired, exhausted. So
exhausted she thought she could probably close her eyes and even fall asleep
but for the cold hard cellar floor and the viciously tight cable ties that had
been used to bind her arms and legs. She
thought of Timmy her ginger tom cat at home all alone waiting for her to give
him his teatime feed. It was a painful thought she wanted to be there with him
so much it hurt terribly. A sob escaped her and the tears began to fall
once more. She knew she was certain to
die in that cold dank place, she knew without a doubt she’d seen daylight for
the very last time and she knew she would never hear Timmy purring loudly and
contentedly on her lap as she sat in front of the TV in her homely little
flat. Never again would she stroke his
head whilst he dribbled. She cried, for the
loss of her little Timmy and for herself all alone bound and naked on the
filthy floor in the basement of a psychopath.
The door opened suddenly above
her startling her, sending harsh light slicing through the pitch darkness,
throwing his silhouette across the floor and up the wall opposite where she
huddled. She recoiled pulling herself in
tighter trying to make herself small, invisible. But he knew she was there of course. She could not hide from him. She could do nothing. Not even scream properly. He’d gagged her. He could do to her whatever he pleased and she
could do nothing to stop him and she knew only too well that he was there to do
something to her, something nasty and painful, maybe even kill her. She was crying hard now, it felt as if the
fear of what was about to happen to her would crush her heart, she struggled to
breath, gagging and choking as she cried and he slowly descended the steps one
at a time down to her with a thump and a creak on every step, as if each of the
old half rotten wooden steps was counting down the dying moments of her life.
Thump! Creak!
Thump! Creak!
Eventually, when the footfalls on
the steps finally stopped and all she could hear was her own heart hammering in
her chest she dared to take a look at him, this monster that would take
everything from her, this bogeyman, this fucking cowardly bastard! Her anger grew quickly and with some venom,
replacing the fear instantly and it felt good.
She screamed at him with total mute hatred but it came out muffled and
pathetic.
There wasn’t much to see, nothing
more than the silhouette of an average sized man standing stock still facing
her, watching her. She sensed he was drinking
in her fear and terror like a fine red wine, savouring every last drop. She also noticed he held something in his right
hand - it hung by his leg - something that looked like scissors but much
bulkier. Something a metal worker would
use.
She screamed at him again and
writhed and shook her head, but he just laughed at her, raised the tin snips
and snipped at the air. Snip snip! He
laughed again, louder this time.
She screamed again but this time
in horror and fear, the anger instantly snuffed out. Hyperventilating with the terrible fear and
panic flooding her every fibre, she wet herself and prayed she would blackout
before he killed her. Please God no!
Please please please! Oh pleeeease! Her mind screamed. He grinned menacingly and walked towards
her. He was happy with this one, she was
a goodun! Very emotional. He squatted down before her and without any
warning smashed her hard in the face with his fist, then whilst she was
semi-conscious with one swift movement cut off the big toe on her right foot with
the tin snips. She screeched like a
banshee and her blood jetted about like a garden sprinkler as she writhed in
terrible pain. He stood and admired his
work briefly then turned and left her, ascending the steps quicker than he’d
descended. He left her groaning and
convulsing on the floor in the cold pitch darkness, immense unbearable pain
consuming her.
He felt in control and very happy
with his work. It had all gone so well,
like clockwork. He’d taken her easily
and without sloppy mishap. Military
precession you might say. He’d planned
it all down to the very last detail.
Taken his time, studied her every move for months, now she was his. She belonged to him. He was very good at this. The best!
He was made for this. Nothing
could stop him now. It would take some
kind of superhero or super cop to out manoeuvre him - with all his skills and
‘special powers’ - and as neither existed he could see a long and fruitful stress-free
future ahead of him. He was going to
have so much fun. There will be lots of
pain, so much pain for him to enjoy.
Over time he returned to her
again and again, slowly trudging down those steps of the cellar - merely for
effect, to heighten her terror – to stand over her. His victim.
His prize. His prey. Before taking her parts one at a time. Bit by bit he dismantled her. He took all her toes, her fingers and thumbs,
even her ears. Her death did not even end
his visits. He continued to take from
her for days after her suffering had ended, until there was nothing left to
take. Why shouldn’t he? He could do whatever he wanted!
