Secrets of a ***er

[Dante’s Point of View]

The way her body etched upward against the ropes as her flesh seared away under the hot iron was like candy to my eyes, and the ringing of blissful agony that reached my ears was a beautiful song.

She was – I suppose in a way my mystery. Laced of course with an annoyance that brought aggravation to its peak and fed my satisfaction with the blood I always needed. I yearned for it – harvested it like a precious diamond…but I knew hardly anything but her name. Perhaps fun could wait. After all…there was still plenty of time for blood.

Dropping the brander where it was I took to walking across the room, my footsteps steady as I drug a chair across the room to sit in front of the woman that both fascinated and infuriated me.

“Harvey.” I tested her name on my lips like I tasted her blood. It was strong – stronger than the other girls, sweet – yet, bitter. With her, I saw a challenge, and a feeling of a challenge always delighted me, even if she managed to grate my nerves. I enjoyed it, played with it…ravaged it.

Her eyes went to mine, glued on the intenseness, but she said nothing further, just sat there, her muscles straining against the ropes. In anger? In fear? – Doubtful.

“I’ll make you a deal. You cooperate with me and I won’t kill you - at least not yet. We’re going to play a game. Since you must know my standpoint with my victims, seeing as how you went snooping about in the crime scene photos, you’ll know that I take precise time and detail to get to know them. It does no good to torture, manipulate and kill your victims for the sheer joy of it if you don't truly know them. No, their memory – the very essence of their soul, how they were…who they were. That’s the thrill. Now it’s your turn.”

I waited for her to say something, anything. Nothing but a blank defiant stare met my expectation. She had closed her emotion off to me, she refused to give me anything but frustration, and it’s a time like this one the urge to kill her grows.

“Tell me, Harvey – you go after individuals with…a colorful profile, you go after us because you think it’s wrong. But tell me – is what you do any worse than what I do? If you really think about it sweetheart, we’re cracked from the same batch of nuts. Two peas in a pod, you and I.” I told her, keeping my voice calm – methodical if you will. That was exactly what I needed to use to get a reaction.

“I’m nothing like you, you’re a monster! I go after people like you because you’re sick!” Harvey spat, attempting to lunge at me through the ropes, but gasped as my hand went to her freshly burned skin, running my thumb around the edges of the wound before pushing into the cooked meat, smiling as I heard her scream again. That beautiful voice – the way it etched with pain. The kind of pain you only know on a personal level with someone you’re going to kill.

“We are much alike, whether you want to admit that or not. You go after people you deem crazy – but really, what makes us any different from our neighbor next door? Or that elderly lady that walks her dog at 2 a.m. because she can’t sleep.” I reasoned with a smirk, seeing the look of fear, pain and hostility fall upon her features.

“You’d murder the old lady and eat the dog, then go to the next door neighbor’s house and cut his heart open with a knife before stabbing it through. Now let me the fuck go!” She screamed as I chuckled at her scenario.

“That’s not quite begging. That sounds like a command, and you know how I feel about commands miss Harvey. I’d watch that tone or the next body part I inflict might be your tongue. I don’t want to do that because you scream so well, and I love the echo of your voice as you get all demanding. It’s really a turn on. Too bad your hands are tied – you could feel just how much of a turn on it is.”

“You’re sick, you – you, asshole! Your mom would be so proud, huh? You disgusting, monster!” Her words echoed loud in my head, and just for that moment, her voice deepened to an angry growl, replaced with a violent hostility my mother once carried.

Out of reflex and rage I brought my and up, striking Harvey across the face, my rage intensifying as the blows kept coming. Her head snapped to the side with each hit, like a punching bag about to come unhinged. That was when reality snapped back, realizing I had knocked her almost unconscious. The only thing indicating she was still alive was the low muffled groans that escaped her mouth.

“Do not talk about my mother!” I screamed, grabbing a fist full of her hair while bringing her eyes up to look into mine. “Do you understand?”

She nodded slightly, making me smile again. “Good. Now what about your parents? What were they like? Surely, they had to be better than mine, right? Because you think you’re better than me. I mean, after all - you have to be, right? Because you’re so damn fucking perfect.” My voice deepening to a growl as I leaned close, capturing her eyes with mine. How I loved to intimidate, but she made me mad, infuriated. How dare she assume that she was better than me?

“I never said I was.” Harvey whispered, the tears slowly sliding down her cheek, her voice cracking. “Please stop.” She begged, finally something I could work with.

“Now that’s what I wanted to hear from you. To beg – but it won’t do you any good because I won’t stop until I get from you what I want.”

“What do you want from me?” She asked, keeping her eyes away from mine.

“Right now? Just to talk, get more information out of you. Later? Well, what’s the point of giving everything away? Leave some suspense, then when I’m ready I may tell you – or I may show you. Either or both.” I chuckled, my good mood coming back.

She remained quiet, the stiffness of silence returning to the dead aired room. Boring really, especially a woman of her stature. Of course ignoring the obvious, I sat down with a smug look, crossing my leg over the other.

“I thought you wouldn’t beg.” Her eyes hardened again, though they still held the fear.

“I didn’t. I asked you nicely. Seeing as fuck-off-asshole wasn’t working. I wouldn’t look so cocky, when you get cocky, you get caught.” She gritted her teeth as her body withered in pain, perhaps even anger.

“Well then, I see the case is not always so, considering I’m not the one tied up.” I smiled, seeing her muscles flexing against the ropes, the blood pooling around them, glistening like a silver lining in the dark, my silver lining. How I love this woman. Well, the challenge of it anyhow.

“No matter.” I dismissed, leaning back against the chair comfortably, glancing at the woman, thinking what I could possibly want to know. “Let’s start with your age. How old are you?”

She seemed indignant, scoffing. “Younger than your mother, older than your sister. Rude question, asshole. What about you, since we’re getting so fucking personal and all.” She snapped.

Growing slightly annoyed I leaned forward, bringing my hand to her chin to force her eyes into mine.
“I’m trying to be civil here, cut you a break. This is a break period, for us both, and it would be a shame to end it so abruptly. Now, please – answer the goddamn question. How old?”

“Twenty-nine.” She growled, jerking her face from my hand.

“Beautiful age, young. Of course I am thirty-four, so not too much of a difference.” I noted, thinking aloud as she scoffed.

“Perfect age to kill huh? Perfect to abuse, torture, maim.” She continued as I smiled, leaning forward and bringing my face to hers, my lips lingering to her in a subtle soft kiss, feeling the bloodied, scarred tissue underneath, sucking the blood from the soft puckered flesh, licking my lips as I pulled away to taste her life.

It made my mouth water, something that hadn’t happened in a long time. She was different. From her personality to her taste…I wondered though, how she was sexually. The thought of it made my body twitch in anticipation, feeling my member harden against my jeans. I had to know.

“No. Not that way at all my darling. You’re not seeing the big picture. The bigger picture is much...brighter.” The cool whisper in my voice was silk and smooth; I let it tickle against her ear as my head lingered before pulling back and observing her reaction. It was masked, but the panic was still there, and was it tempting, more than any desert could be.

The desire to take her into my arms was great, to hear her plea, to make her scream out in pain – perhaps pleasure. To feel me inside her, for her to resist – wanting to refuse…to die, I wanted all of that and more. She was the very essence I breathed and I would not let that go.

“Go to hell.” The resistance was weak, but I wanted to bide my time – to make the wait and suspense worth it, to finally build that ecstasy and release it. Striking where it mattered, the only place it mattered. I would break down her walls…I would make her wish to die. I would destroy her.

After all – that was who I was, what I was about…at least that was what I believed.