Never Talk To Strangers

"Dear God...." That's what she heard him mutter over and over again. "Dear god ...Dear, dear god" When he tore her clothes off her there was a "Sweet Jesus" there as well. She fought him. She pushed against his greedy hands. She riled against his spicy breath. "No, oh no, please. No stop!" But that didn't work, and so she tried to scream, "Someone HELP ME!" only to get a mouth full of blood, her blood, as it bled out the gash her teeth had made when he punched her with his fist. She was too shocked to cry, but she took her nails and raked them down his cheek, drawing more than a little blood there.

"You little BITCH!" and it was his fist again, in the ribs, over and over again. He covered her mouth with his while she screamed. She couldn't STOP herself from screaming, and it all went black.

When the sky blazed white again she wished it hadn't. She was still with him, only not where they had been. This was a bedroom, upstairs, apart from the people, where they could no longer hear her. She must have moaned, but she couldn't move from her fetal position. Her knees were drawn up to her chest, trying anything to stop the red, hot, searing pain that tore through her at each breath. She found out that there were tears, seeping beneath her eyelashes, dripping onto the pillow, "Help" she whispered hoarsely, desperately.

He was there again, stroking her hair, her face, "Awwwww . . . baby, are you okay? I didn't mean to hurt you, I thought you were as excited as I was." It was such an obvious lie, stated from cruel hard glittering eyes, icy tone, and steeled shoulders.

She was desperate to get away from him, "Let me go back downstairs, to the party, and I won't mention it" she said lightly, while praying "Please let me go, oh please!"

He laughed so coldly it caused her to be covered by goose bumps all over her naked body. "The party?" He sat down next to her and ran his large blunt fingers down her back, caressing her intimately, "Sweetie, we left the party. You're now with me, at my house, and my parents are out of town this weekend, and I thought we might . . ." He shrugged, "You know...."  And she did know.

"Please. Oh please no! I need to get home, please . . ." He stood up in a rage, towering over her, his eyes black as they burned into her. She watched his tongue slip out and slide over his lips as they curved into a sneer.

"Wrong answer, darling. You aren't going anywhere tonight, baby, but where I take you. And we are definitely going places." His laugh was shrill in his excitement, oddly boyish from his overpoweringly masculine shadow. She didn't even have time to plead before he left the room.

"God. Help oh God!" She tried to move, but it hurt, it hurt oh so bad. Still she tried standing, only to fall down onto the cold wood floor on her knees. She crawled, she inched towards the door and made it, just in time for his return. He silently scooped her up and threw her on the bed, after he deposited a bundle in the chair next to the bed. With her eyes watching his every move, in fear, she saw him lock the door. He locked the doorknob, the key lock below the doorknob, the dead bolt, the chain lock. He then took the key and put it in the lamp cover, on the ceiling, which she couldn't have reached when she could stand up straight, let alone while in this pain.

Then knowing her eyes were on him, he stripped, preening for her. She turned her head away but it was jerked so strongly to stare directly at him, nearly touching his body with her nose. His is voice sounding harsh and deep echoing in her ears, "Tell me I'm magnificent . . . Tell me how much you want me . . .How much you want me to do things to you. Tell me I'm magnificent." Her tongue was dry but swollen in her mouth and she couldn't. She was shaking too hard to even speak. She could feel the anger, the intense hatred before he reached out and grabbed her by the hair. "Open your mouth," he hissed before shoving into her. She wanted to gag. She was gagging, choking on him. She found that she could move. It was only enough to lift her hands to push at his stomach, to push him away from her. But it was useless, he was stronger and he held her face firmly against him.

"Sweet Jesus!" he cried as he exploded. As his hand went lax, she jerked free and vomited upon the floor, her entire body in convulsions. When she looked up he was gazing at her in disgust. Walking over to the chair, he grabbed a bottle of water. "Here, rinse your mouth out," he ordered, showing the first sign of humanity since he had lead her from the dance floor and pinned her to the wall. She rinsed her sour mouth while he cleaned up her mess.

Maybe that was all he wanted, she wished, just that. But after he returned the sponge to the joint bathroom he was back, standing over her. "You shouldn't have done that, it displeased me. Now you must be punished."

"No!" she pleaded now, more than desperate, "I'm sorry, I couldn't help it. I don't feel well, you see. Please, I'm so sorry, I really am. Please no . . ."

But he ignored her as if she wasn't there and went to the chair. In the darkness she couldn't see what he was doing, yet she saw the knife the second he turned around. She went rigid with terror but he didn't strike her. No, he simply ran it down her back, not to cut - to intimidate - to warn - to give himself a thrill. He set the knife down on the bedside table and lightly took a hold of her shoulders to turn her to face him.

He whispered "I want to see you, all of you. NOW." But she couldn?t put her legs down, her ribs hurt. She could see the black and green bruises even in the dim light. He yanked her legs down when she did not comply and she cried out. He then took the time to softly run his hands over her body, staring intently at his hands that were touching her "You're so beautiful, so very beautiful."

Slowly, he lowered his large body down atop of hers, covering her completely. He was so big and heavy. She gasped; sucking in any air she could, pushing against him, taking her hands and trying to squirm away from him, despite the pain each movement brought. "Please stop, oh please," she begged him.

"Christ," he exclaimed and got off her roughly. "If you are not going to be good, I'll have to bind you, simple as that." He took no time in getting  his tools, just grabbed them and used one of his gigantic monster hands to hold her down, while he used duct tape, with his other one, to bind her hands to the brass headboard. Hurriedly winding it tightly around each of her wrists and a pole on the bed, most certainly cutting off circulation. The silver duct tape squeezing her wrists painfully. He then spread her legs to lay himself between them.

"Now," he began, "I am going to," he paused as if thinking what to say, "play with you." His eyes were so black, so very cold and black, his smile even more sinister. "And I want you to lick me- everywhere. If you don't, you won't like what I'll do to you, understand?" He didn't wait for a reply, just took the knife off the nightstand and set it next to her foot, where she couldn't reach it. Then he began licking her, covering her body with spit, and drool, a sticky slime that made her want to throw up again. But even when she was in a position when she could lick him, she didn't. She couldn't. The tension in him kept building, she could feel his body winding up, coiling, waiting to spring. Grabbing her hair again, he yanked her head up so that he looked straight into her eyes "I warned you, bitch"

She noticed that his scratches weren't bleeding anymore. She felt the cold metal of the long knife slide across her stomach, not cutting, just sliding, and she froze. "You like this, sweetie?" He ran it across her outer left thigh. "And here?" Then across her throat before slicing into her shoulder, a thin red line of blood forming. She didn't scream. She squeaked, she thrashed, jerked away from the blade. "Now unless you want that to go a bit deeper into . . . a different part of you," his hand squeezed painfully against her breast, giving her a fairly good idea where he meant. "You will lick me, everywhere, now"

She did, there was nothing else for her to do. Following his instruction, she licked him everywhere. He moved and she kept running her tongue over him, everywhere, even though she wanted to puke, to throw up, to wash the taste out of her mouth. And as she traced him with her tongue he was touching her, painfully, pinching her arms and stomach, bruising her, scratching her back with his nails, then pressing inside her with his fingers. She felt herself start to bleed, he had cut her with one of his claws. She paused, wanting to scream . . . it hurt . . . she hurt, dear god . . . it hurt. He punched her when she stopped. His breath harsh and restless he panted, "Keep going!"

He was violent; poking and prodding with his fingers, biting her with his teeth, licking the wound on her shoulder. As she licked his face he sank his teeth into the hollow of her throat and she screamed. He was so angry that he exploded. What little restraint he had had was gone and he grabbed her hips to lift her as he pounded into her. He was ripping through her and she SCREAMED! He was wild, thrashing, thrusting and the knife in his hands now and it was in her now . . .SCREAMING . . . through her breasts as he gnawed on her lip, bit into her shoulders, bit through her breast. Knife tearing through her stomach, pinning her to the bed, wild in her...SCREAMING!  Blind now, eyes blind with pain. Teeth chewing her . . . Ripping deep inside her, slicing through her thigh with the knife, then stabbing her. His face lifted back watching her eyes . . . "Open your eyes! LOOK AT ME!" He ordered, mad  - DEMANDED - and she opened them, to see his face, intent on hers, then on the knife as it hit the bed, through her back; ripping the mattress before he brought it out again to repeat his stroke. And himself, moving fast inside her and she couldn't  look. She couldn't breathe. The blood was everywhere, his hair sticking to his head, sticky with her redness. And her eyes rolled back into her head, and everything EXPLODED!

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When they found her body two weeks later, partially decomposed under a leaf pile no one knew what to do. The entire county was in an uproar. Who was the monster? The police searched, looked, inquired, and the last person to see her alive, was her best friend, Ian. He knew nothing. He'd seen her dancing. Everyone had seen her dancing, but no one knew whom with. They followed every lead, looked for any clue as to who the monster was. And as her body was lowered into the grave, the only words spoken were by Ian, whispered into the air at the graveyard "Dear God, dear God . . . dear, dear God . . . "