Something filthy about Mr.Haynes

60 minutes priority

Mr. Haynes was having these horrible, twisted and sick thoughts, vicious and murderous images in his head that was driven by one thing only. Blood lust.

"I'm bored, Megan!"-he suddenly hissed and cleared the collars of his black suit, that clung to his trained body as a second skin. "Poor human, that's who you are, that's who you ever would be."

His longing eyes roamed the horizon in front and pale skin enjoyed the ice-cold wind in the air, that resembled dark night skies above, lined with bouquets of blinking lights.

The ripper and the prey kept starring at each other. They knew it was the last night at the open. The frosty atmosphere in the fields and dangerous silence covered in a thick fog, flew from the old creaking forests and curled around the silent figure in the night, making Mr.Haynes impatient and restless.

"Megan",-he moaned dreamily, as his eyes closed in annoyance,-"Megan, Megan, Megan. It's funny how pathetic you are, thinking you could actually run away from me."

Megan was sitting on the dirty ground, rocking her body back and forth for she knew exactly, that every second, every breath could be her last. "You don't have to do this!"-she begged the man. "I did everything! Everything you wanted me to!"

"It was not enough,"-he said laughing and watching her attempts to make him change his mind. "You didn't please me the way I was expecting you to."

"Then tell me! Make me understand! You tortured me for months! I didn't let a sound out, just because you forbid me!"

"I think it's a bit too late for that. Here is where it started, months ago. Here is where it has to end. But I see we're still fighting. How convenient!"

"My parents has money!"-Megan insisted. "Lots of money. Name your price!"

"It's not because of money",-he smiled again,-"you're just not good enough for me! I'd much rather watch you die!"-Mr.Haynes sighed while standing frozen on the solid ground.

With his perfectly waxed shoes in the dirt he was waiting for a run. Muscles tensed under the black designer's tuxedo, slow beating of his stoned heart. His jaw line was hard, while motionless eyes gazed in front, counting last minutes in his head.

"60 minutes is enough for you to hide? Go!"-he insisted, watching blood soaking figure stumble forth. "I'll rip your throat, Megan! So you better start hiding!"

But moments passed slowly. Too slow for him. Every second in his head was lengthen to hours, making this distance among them almost unreachable.

Deadly silence was in the air, except far echoes of the silent whimpers could be heard miles and miles away. Hopeful prayers, screams for help.

He left the abandoned building behind his back and listened carefully. The time was set. She had 60 minutes to run, to hide, to do whatever she needed to do.

"Why do I get a feeling i'm gonna need lots of bourbon to survive this little, miserable mental intervention of yours?"-he snapped ironically, as silent footsteps trailed behind his back.

"You do this again,"- another man said, walking short steps towards his brother, sounding more as a statement, rather than the question. His sad voice disturbed the air, ruining the moment for a man in a perfect black tuxedo.

"To what do I owe the honor, brother?"

"You can't control the blood lust any longer,"-he accused.

"In contrary! I'm taking my move."

"Call it as you want. It's repulsive. As much as always."

But Mr. Haynes said nothing else, just smiled to himself looking at the emptiness in front of him. She was somewhere out there, her silhouette disappeared far away among dark trees, waiting for him, hiding. Among those horizons, where the heavy darkness meets the cold grounds, shivering with purple flowers she was all alone. Megan's destiny was set. Tonight. The last night at the open she was meant to die.