Victim

Prologue

Finally. She was waking up. Took her long enough.

He took a drag on his cigarette and blew the smoke onto her face. A coughing fit ensued, and by the time she calmed down, her green eyes were open and staring at him.

She was scared. This pleased him a lot. He grinned down at the trembling woman. They were always scared, and this always pleased him.

He sat back down in his chair, watching the woman struggling against her bonds. They always did that, too. But they never got free, he tied a very strong knot. It was one of his very best talents.

He waited until she'd given up, until her gaze fixed on his face and recognition set in. "Master," she whispered tightly. "I'm sorry. Forgive me, I won't do it ever again. Please"

"Too late for that." he replied. Getting her home had been a pain in the ass. She took up much more space than he'd expected. She was curvier than most of the woman he brought back. It would be a nice change, easier to kill.

She yanked on her bonds again, a token of effort only. Her lips quivered. "Where are my stuff?"

"Burned." He yawned; he was bored.

"Why?"

He stood up lightly, pulled lazily at his tie, aware that she was following his every move. "Because you won't be needing them anymore."

She shook her head, and he could see tears starting to build up in her eyes. He'd learned long ago to never trust a woman's tears. They were nothing but manipulative, dark and cold. They meant nothing. It only angered him more.

Her eyes flickered all over the room, looking for an escape, looking for help. There would be none. He grabbed her hand from where he's tied it to the headboard. He ran his thumb over her finger. No one ever escaped.

"Betrayal is the worst crime; it deserves a proper punishment. Don't you think, Anna?" He sneered at her, he ran his hand down to her chin, and gently cupped it.

"I...I'm so sorry. I promise I won't ever do it again. I'll stay and do whatever you ask me to." She whimpered; her eyes looked pleadingly at him.

Lies. They were all lies.

"You're lying. I hate liars." He felt a low growl in his throat.

"I swear, I'm not!" She murmured, gazing behind him.

"Ah yes, looking at my fine collection, are you? Do you like it?" He walked a step or 2, allowing her to admire his collection. Her eyes widened in fear at the sight. He walked to his table and traced the rows of fine materials. Axes, knifes, screwdrivers, hammers, razorblades, box cutters, hoe's, spears, nails, peel cutters, and much more. He had everything.

He stared at it proudly. It was his most prized collection.

"Would you like to pick? I don't let most of my victims pick, but you're more than welcome to since you're my oldest visitor." He chuckled to himself and scratched his chin. He shouldn't be so kind to the woman after what she'd done, but what harm could it be to let her pick.

"Please, let me go! I...I don't want to die. Please." She finally broke and sobbed out the words.

God, he hated when they cried. Anna sure was fragile, usually the visitor's egos were more than their will to live. But he always broke them eventually. They always begged, at some point. Always.

Usually, to let them just die already.

"If you wont pick, then I'll pick for you." He lazily streched out his arm and grabbed a knife, testing its weight in his hands. He ran his hand along the sharp edge of the blade, almost giving himself a cut.

Perfect.

"How loud can you scream? I bet pretty loud."

She did. They always did.