The Search
By Suzanne Hamblin
- 990 reads
He looked down at her pale face, her eyes staring up at him, wide and frightened. He loved that look, lived for it.
He bent down and touched her skin, her cheek was soft and damp with tears. Those tears won’t do you any good now he thought.
His heart began to race as he stroked down her cheek to her jaw line and then to her neck. He loved that neck. Her skin was so soft and transparent; he could see the faint blue veins, watching her swallow as she gulped back a scream. He caressed her gently, feeling her breathing become more rapid and panicked as he ran his thumb across her jugular. She didn’t make a sound, but he could feel her fear and the excitement accelerated through his body.
He closed his eyes, savouring the feeling of power and then, his eyes still closed, he clamped his hands around her throat and pushed down hard on the mattress with a strength he only knew when killing.
‘Oi! Time to stop day dreaming and get moving. You need to be in the visiting room in twenty minutes.’ The guard threw the metal door open, slamming it into the foot of his bed, jolting him out of his fantasy. How rude.
‘Yes Sir.’ His response was clam, but he was seething inside for his thoughts being interrupted. He was dreaming about number seven. She was exquisite.
She was strong and feisty which he loved and surprisingly a virgin, which he loved even more. She had whispered that to him as if it would encourage his conscience. It didn’t. She didn’t make a sound after that for the three days he had her. This infuriated him, yet thrilled him at the same time. She was trying her best to prove he couldn’t control her, but control her he did. He smiled at the thought of her.
But today he had more pressing concerns. Today was the day he would come face to face with the sister of number one.
He’d denied her visiting requests for weeks, he knew what she wanted and didn’t want to give it, but she was persistent and he liked that.
He absentmindedly thought of number one as he was shaving. He thought about how he’d met her in that busy bar, she had chosen him. He hadn’t been planning what happened. He wanted sex yes, but what guy his age didn’t, but he hadn’t planned for her to unleash that part of him. The part he’d always worked so hard to keep secret. Her bad luck he mused silently, laughing to himself.
He was waiting when the guard came to collect him, sitting on the edge of his tidy bed, staring at his hands which were neatly folded into his lap. He looked up to study the guard. He was young, early twenties probably and well built. He looked strong, but had a very uneasy expression on his face as he cuffed him and led him out of the cell.
He loved that he made people feel so uncomfortable, even in this prison, locked away from the world he was powerful.
It wasn’t just the guards that felt uneasy. He often heard the other inmates talking about him at meal times. They’d say, “There he is!” or “Six months he was going for” or “I hear he’s killed at least twenty, maybe fifty!”
He enjoyed this. When he was caught four weeks ago he thought it was over. He was scared of prison, he would never admit that to anyone but it was true, but the men here feared him. That seemed strange to him, but he didn’t question it. One sign of weakness and it could all be over.
The guard eventually led him into a white room with just a table and two chairs. He was pushed down into the chair furthest from the door.
‘You try anything and it’s over. Understand?’
He nodded politely and he guard walked to the corner of the room. He wasn’t going to do anything to stop this meeting. The girls’ letters, begging him to meet her, interested him and he had a slight admiration for her guts. He wondered if she would be anything like number one. He pictured her blonde hair. It was the brightest blonde he’d ever seen. It was what drew him to her in the first place. But she was stupid, then again without that stupidity he would never have been able to have her. Stupidity was a trait he searched for in all his victims.
His thoughts were cut short when the door opened and Detective Gates walked in. He had demanded that if he was to meet this girl that Detective Gates should not be in the room.
She leaned over the table towards him and he could smell stale cigarettes and perfume. He screwed up his nose in disgust.
‘If you are wasting her time on this I swear to God I will make your life a living hell, do you understand me?’
‘I do not wish to discuss this meeting with you Detective. Bring the girl in; I’m dying to meet her.’
Detective Gates immediately left and a few minutes later was followed by a girl, probably late teens, with thick dark hair which was pulled from her face, but he could tell it was long by the thin tendrils that had come loose and hung naturally past her slender shoulders. She had a small frame, but perfect curves, just like her sister. But her face was different, harder. Her eyes were black and piercing with too much makeup around them, her skin was not delicate, but severely pale. She pulled the chair out clumsily to slump down and it screeched unbearably on the tile floor.
She was nothing like her and he couldn’t hide the disappointment from his face.
‘Not what you thought eh? Expecting another blonde?’ Her voice was soft and confident and she looked straight into his eyes. This caught his attention.
‘You’re not what I expected I suppose, but I could make do.’ He flashed her a smile, but she pretended not to notice. She was silent for a while as if waiting for him to speak. He would usually stay silent to prove a point but there wasn’t much time and he hadn’t had a real conversation in a while.
‘You’re the younger sister.’ It was a statement, but she answered anyway.
‘Two years younger.’
‘Ah, to be eighteen.’ He mused
‘It wasn’t that long ago for you. Ten years?’
‘I see you’ve done your homework. No I suppose it wasn’t, but my eighteen was very different from the norm, as it seems is yours.’
‘Well I suppose most eighteen year olds dream of their future, I dream of finding my sister’s dead body and you dream of raping and murdering young, innocent women.’ Her tone was flat and her eyes darkened as she spoke, something stirred inside him that he hadn’t felt in the time he’d been here. She seemed so much older than eighteen, but when he looked down at her hands she was clenching her fists so tightly her fingers were white. He smiled privately at the thought of this fiery girl trying to hide her nerves.
He imagined her lunging at him in anger, scratching and biting him fiercely. He would overpower her eventually, he always did, and her body would end up under his. She would thrash heatedly for a while, but she would finally succumb to him...
‘I need to know where you buried my sister.’ Her harsh tone brought him back to the room.
‘What makes you think I buried her? I didn’t bury any of the others.’
‘Because all the others have been found! My sister is the only one left and they found pictures of her body in your flat. If she was above ground they would have found her by now.’ He watched her eyes as they welled with tears, not one of them dropped.
He suddenly had the urge to tell her. This confused him, he had never wanted to confide in anyone. He unexpectedly wanted this girls’ approval, her thanks, but he knew he would never get it. He knew that if he told her where number one was he would never see her again. He needed to keep his control. It was all he had left.
‘I’m not quite sure I’m feeling up to this you know. I think we should maybe re-schedule. Next week perhaps?’ He spoke as if he was booking a dentist appointment.
‘No! I need to know.’
‘Patience patience. It’s hard to remember which one is which.’ She stood up, reached into her pocket and slammed down a picture of number one. Her wide eyes stared up at him.
‘Oh that one.’ He stroked the picture with his thumb, ‘It’s going to take some time to think, can I keep this?’ She snatched it away savagely. Her fingers brushed his and he felt a stir in his groin at the contact.
‘I think that’s all for today. Guard I’m tired, I’d like to go back to my cell.’
The guard walked over and escorted him to the door. He looked back at the girl, her head in her hands. He needed to see her again and there was only one thing that would guarantee that. The truth.
‘I didn’t kill your sister. I took her, but I was having way too much fun to kill her. I suppose she’s in a bit of a pickle now that I’m in here.’ He walked out of the room before he could see her expression, but her screams followed him through the corridors.
He had thought his games were over when he was brought here, his lips formed a smile as he realised they may have just begun.
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This is very good - a real
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