Beauty of Fear-Trailer

Wednesday, March 28, 2012

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 unforgiving.  
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.

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