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The night was cool, clear, and still. I took my time walking home, savoring the fresh air and the sound of crickets. I was dressed simply. On a night like this, all I needed was a short sleeved shirt and jeans.
I was humming to myself when I heard a car coming up from behind. It was a black sedan with windows tinted just dark enough that I could see the vague shape of the driver, but nothing more. I felt a twinge of fear twist in my stomach, and began walking faster. My apartment was only two blocks away.
The car sidled up next to me, too close to the curb for comfort. The hair on the back of my neck rose, and I couldn’t decide if I should start running. But I was too slow in my deliberation. The driver opened the door and came around the front of the hood.
I broke into a sprint now, and I heard the driver’s boots pounding the sidewalk behind me. I had to be faster. My apartment was a block and a half away now, and I could make it if I didn’t slow down.
Too soon, though, the driver caught up to me and knocked me to the ground. I scrambled to get up, but a hand clamped down on the collar of my shirt pulled me back.
“Come with me or die here. The choice is yours.”
I whipped my head around to see my attacker. She was a striking woman, with platinum blonde hair and dark eyes. I had never seen eyes like hers– not human ones, at least. They were dark and glittered like a snake’s. Her teeth were sharp and shiny, and from the way she studied me, she looked like she wanted to take a bite.
“Don’t make me repeat myself. Choose now, or I’ll do it myself.”
My voice was sharp with panic. “If I go with you, do I get to live?”
“You’ll have a chance.”
“And I don’t have one now?”
She laughed. “No, sweetheart. You don’t. But if you come with me, I’ll give you a fair shot.”
I could barely think. “I… I’ll go.”
“Good choice.” She hauled me to my feet and dragged me to the trunk. She opened it and shoved me inside. With a slam, I was cast into darkness. I laid there in stunned silence until the car started moving again.
I kicked and screamed and pounded, hoping someone, anyone, could hear my struggle. After what I judged to be about ten minutes, I gave up, devolving into tears. I had no idea where she was taking me, and I had no reason to believe she’d actually let me live.
Why did I go with her? Why didn’t I try to run? She had caught me easily, but it would have been smarter to try again than to comply. I lectured myself as I cried, unable to believe my own foolishness.
When my tears ran dry, I wracked my brain to think of a way out. I recalled learning that kicking the tail lights could knock them out of the car. Yes, that was it. At least I’d be doing something. Since I didn’t know how much longer she’d keep driving, I tried to make quick work of it. It was more difficult than I thought. I kicked the bump over and over, but all I succeeded in doing was hurting my toes. I let out a strangled, frustrated scream. There had to be a way out.
Too little, too late. The car came to a stop and I heard the muffled sound of the driver’s door slamming shut. The woman popped the trunk and flashed a smile full of pointed teeth.
“Hey, sweetheart. How was the ride?”
I glared at her, but said nothing.
“Now comes the fun part. I’m going to let you out. And because I’m so generous, I’ll even give you a head start. You get five minutes to run as far as you can, and then I’ll come for you.”
“What happens if you catch me?”
Her face broke into a wicked grin. “I’ll have my way with you.”
Then she offered me her hand and helped me out of the trunk. As soon as I was on my feet, she hissed a harsh “go.” I didn’t need to be told twice– I took off running, hoping against all odds that I could beat her.
The forest was dark and the ground was uneven, but I didn't dare slow down. The forest clawed at me– thin, crooked branches stung my face and arms. Roots twisted like tripwires. It was as though nature itself didn’t want me to escape. The only things I could see were the silhouettes of trees and my own breath pluming in front of me.
After only a few minutes, I was fading. My legs burned from the exertion and there were stitches in my sides. Still, I couldn’t afford to rest. The woman was surely pursuing me by now, and she was in much better condition to run.
I managed to make it another few minutes, but only barely. Blood rose in the back of my throat and my breath rattled in my chest. I stumbled to a stop in a clearing, bracing myself against the nearest tree. I allowed myself thirty seconds to rest, taking in my surroundings all the while.
My eyes had adjusted to the dark, but I still couldn’t make much out. As of now, my best chance was probably to hide and wait her out. And then I saw my salvation.
It was a tall and broad pine, with its lowest branches brushing the ground like a skirt. I couldn’t see the trunk through the needles, giving me hope that I could remain undiscovered there. I darted across the clearing, ducking down under the canopy.
I leaned my back against the trunk. It was warmer here than out in the open, and I couldn’t see my breath anymore. I forced my lungs to inflate and deflate slowly. Rhythmically. The taste of blood was almost gone now, but my throat felt raw. I gathered my arms around me for warmth, and for the first time tonight, I had hope that I might survive.
And then I heard the unmistakable sound of heavy boots over pine needles. I stayed completely still and breathed as quietly as I could. The footsteps continued, getting closer and closer. I bit my lip to stop myself from whimpering.
Then, finally, the steps got quieter as the woman walked away. I counted to one hundred, then allowed myself one heavy, sobbing exhale. I realized my mistake in no time at all.
The woman’s footsteps returned, heavy and brisk. She approached faster and more purposefully than before. I froze in fear. If I ran, I would be caught. If I didn’t, I would be caught sooner.
The choice, however, was made for me. The woman parted the needled branches and grinned at the sight of me trembling.
“Hey there, sweetheart. Did you miss me?”
I shrieked and scrambled back, but she pounced before I could get even a yard away. She straddled my hips and reached for the blade at her hip. It was a hunting knife, 8 inches at least, with a wickedly curved edge. She pressed the point into my stomach.
I whimpered. “Please don’t.”
“It’s alright, we’ll take this nice and slow.”
She lifted the hem of my shirt and ran the knife up the middle, splitting every fiber. After severing the neckline, she pulled my shirt open and exposed my bra. This, too, she cut in half.
My exposed chest left me freezing. I shivered, and goosebumps dotted my skin. The woman’s eyes drifted lower.
She hooked two fingers under the waistband of my jeans. “I could cut these, too, but it would be easier if you took them off yourself.”
My voice quivered. “If I do, will you make it quick?”
She smirked. “Quick? No. But I might carve you up a little less.”
“Might?”
“Sweetheart, the choice is yours. But if you make me cut them off you, I can’t guarantee my knife won’t… slip.”
She let the point rest between my legs.
I took a shaky breath. “I’ll take them off.”
She used her knife to gesture at the remains of my shirt. “Take those scraps off, too.”
Once I lay bare before her, she straddled my hips. Dry pine needles dug into my back, but my comfort was of no importance anymore. She traced the knife slowly along my collarbones– hard enough to feel its potential, but not enough to break my skin. She studied my body, considering where to make the first cut.
Her eyes settled on my arms. The woman took my right hand in her left, and twisted it to expose the soft skin of my forearm. She made the first cut, a thin line horizontal to my wrist. I hissed from the pain and blood beaded at the incision. She made four more, uniform and evenly spaced. Then she turned her attention to my other arm and made another five cuts.
Tears stung the corners of my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction– or so I thought. My resolve crumbled when she grabbed one of my breasts. She teased my nipple with the tip of her knife, and it was already painfully hard from the chill of the night. And then, the worst pain I had ever felt.
The woman cut a diagonal line across my nipple, splitting it in half. I made no attempt to hold back my screams. Hot blood spilled across my chest, expedited by a second cut, leaving my areola cut into quarters. She made her work symmetrical, carving into my other breast, and I felt my consciousness flicker for a moment. The pain was like liquid fire, pumping out of my veins and running down my skin.
I whimpered “Please, let me go! I won’t tell anyone if you let me go!”
“You won’t tell anyone if I kill you, either. Sorry sweetheart, you’re out of luck.”
The woman turned her attention to my legs. She spread them open and started in on my inner thighs. The thin, delicate skin was easy to carve. Her knife sliced through my flesh as easily as butter. I lost count of the cuts. I was in such agony that one more cut made no difference to me.
The blood loss was getting to me, leaving me lightheaded and dizzy. Trying to concentrate on that feeling instead of the pain made it a little easier to bear. It was almost euphoric, a high unlike any I’d experienced before.
The woman set her knife aside and groped my mutilated breasts, gathering the blood that welled up from the crosses. Then, she brought her attention lower and dipped her bloodied fingers inside me.
“You’re soaking wet. I didn’t know you were such a whore when I picked you up.”
We both knew the wetness between my legs wasn’t arousal– it was hot, sticky blood. But there was no point in using what little energy I had left to talk back.
Her blood-slicked fingers slid in and out of me easily. “I think you’re ready for more now.”
My mind was too hazy to put together what she meant until her zipper was already down and her tip was pressed against my entrance. She pushed in slowly, savoring every inch she slipped inside. She let out a long, contented sigh.
“This was worth the wait. Thank you.”
I could do nothing more than whimper, too fatigued to even shake my head. She pumped slowly and steadily, never fully pulling out of me. But with every pained whimper I made, she quickened her pace. Soon every snap of her hips knocked the wind out of me. I silently begged for it to end, even if it meant death. With a final thrust, I felt her spill inside me.
She froze for a moment, basking in my plight. She soon returned to her senses, pulled out and picked the knife back up, holding it against my throat. I tried to raise a feeble hand to stop her, but could barely lift it an inch off the ground. I closed my eyes and waited for the end, but it didn’t come yet. She made a shallow cut across my throat, just enough to bleed, and lapped at the wound. She kissed and licked my neck, reveling in the taste of my blood. Her hair was soft and it tickled me. Under different circumstances, I might have enjoyed the feeling.
“You taste incredible.”
My eyelids fluttered open to see her mouth stained red. She met my eyes and grinned.
“Do you have any last words?”
Before giving me the chance to reply, she sliced into my neck again– deep. Blood filled my throat, liquefying any words before they could leave my mouth. I had only seconds left to live, and I spent them trying to choke out a “please…”
The woman seemed to understand, and laughed. “If you insist.” She slashed the knife across my throat for the third and final time, and my body went as still and quiet as the night.