The Best Game

The murderer slowly walked up to my chair, crouching in front of me his elbows resting on his knees. “Well, well, well,” he started with a small smile, “Look who’s awake.” Sandy hair fell into his face covering his emerald eyes as excitement danced in his gaze.

Oh no. What did I do to deserve this?

I tried scooting away managing an astounding three inches before he grabbed a chair leg and propped the chair back up. I whimpered, tears slipping out from my eyes as he gently cupped my cheek wiping my tears away. Noticing me cringe he took his hand away murmuring. “You know, we are in the middle of no where,” He reached behind my head and started untying my gag. “So even if you scream no one will be able to hear you.”

The black rag fell into my lap as I glared into his face. My face blanched as I thought of the other women he has killed. I closed my eyes tightly trying to get their images out of my head. It was terrible to see on the news I didn’t need to see them every time I closed my eyes.

I tried to be strong and not show my fear, but I couldn’t hid the quake of my voice. “What do you want? Why me? There are many people out there but why me?”

He turned and dragged a chair over, straddling it, his arms resting on the back as he faced me. “What do I want? Fun of course! I’m winning the game so far. No one has caught me yet!” he said with a booming laugh echoing off the grime covered walls. A steady drip…drip of water was heard as he continued. “This is the best game, a game of wits, a game of fear,” He reached out and grabbed a lock of hair, letting it slide through his fingers as I turned my head away from him. “A game of skill.” He stood carrying the chair to where it was before. “Now for ‘why you’. There is no reason. I chose an apartment and then who lives in it..”

He walked across the room, his boots making no sound against the concrete. The water still dripped from the ceiling landing in the growing puddle on the floor. Once again I worked on freeing myself trying to squeeze my hands through the ropes tied around my slender wrists. It felt like I was making progress, and I stopped as he turned walking back towards me with a small black bundle under his left arm, brushing his wild hair out of his eyes with his free hand.

“Do you want to know one of the best parts of this game?” He asked with a glimmer of excitement flashing through his eyes. I shook my head quickly but he continued anyway. “Besides the fun, hearing the person scream is always my favorite part. There’s just so many ways.” He pulled an old rotting wood table closer to me, the wood flaking on the ground and groaning in protest at being dragged across the uneven surface. He set the black bundle on it and unrolled it slowly. “I have heard people say there are seven types of…well material isn’t a good word, blade? No, well anyway, as I was saying seven tools I guess that make torture so much fun.” He moved so I could see what was in the bundle. An assortment of knives, needles, and various objects I didn’t want to even guess what they were for. They all shone brightly in the dim light.

“Stone, metal, fire, ice, water, glass, and wood.” He picked up a few objects made of the material he was saying examining them before setting them back down. “Seven most used but I have to say, my favorite is glass. The way the blood just drips of its’ surface, how it’s so easily seen, I just love it.” He smiled wickedly.

“Now then. In order to make this easier on me, you will be held down. I like a good fight, but I don’t feel like it today.” He dragged the chair I sat in over to a metal gurney loudly and keeping my hands tied strapped me to the cold surface. My arms held down at my sides, my feet strapped on each side of the gurney. "There, Now this shouldn’t be too long. But what to do with you.” He sat in the chair I had previously been in and thought.

Slowly he stood and walked over to the table running his fingers over his precious tools. Quiet murmuring reached my ears and I failed in trying to understand what he said. After a few minutes he turned with something clenched in his hand as he slowly walked towards me. He stopped beside me and I could clearly see what was in his grasp. In his hand were a needle and a sharpened knife, with the blade made of glass. Setting the knife down beside me silently he grabbed my forearm and shoved the needle in the vein inside my elbow injecting a clear liquid inside my body. He looked at his watch and after a few seconds untied my hands and legs.

I tried sitting up, but my body wouldn’t respond, I couldn’t even lift my hand. He must have noticed the distress on my face. “Ah, yeah sorry about that, the restraints will get annoying, so I gave you a drug that will paralyze you. You’ll still be able to feel everything though, so don’t worry about that small detail.” My eyes widened as he started undressing me, and soon I was laying nude on the gurney, unable to stop what he was about to do. He grasped his knife and slowly cut around my left ankle.

Blood started dripping onto the cool metal mixing with the sound of dripping water, and I could feel its warmth gathering under my heel. I clamped my eyes shut as he made another cut up to my knee. My blood was now pooling under both my legs and the pain was terrible his cuts were deep and slow, never speeding up. He cut around my right ankle and up my leg to my thigh, and I screamed, you wouldn’t think it would hurt so much. But as he kept slicing at my flesh the pain became more than unbearable and black dots appeared in my vision. I was losing too much blood and my tears feel onto the gurney joining the substance pooling under my still body as I let out another scream.

Seconds felt like minutes, minutes turned to hours. I was now laying in a puddle of blood some drops spilling over the edge falling onto the concrete below as he worked.

I don’t know how long it was before my body became numb, my vision faded, the pain disappeared, and I faded into the black.