'Black and White' - The White Bridge Crime Series 2 - LGBT, manXman

9

The darkness around him was profound.

He groaned softly, not knowing what had awoken him, and not appreciating it at all.

Well, since he was awake, he might as well go and get a drink of water.

He reached across and switched on his bedside lamp, and froze.

It was sat on the carpet beside his bed, starting at him.

He stared back.

Swallowing hard, he snatched his hand back from the bedside table, unable to tear his eyes from it.

It crawled forwards slowly, and he bit back a yelp of fear.

He automatically brought his knees up to his chest, shaking with fear, when he felt something brush his toes.

Quaking with terror, he slowly grasped the quilt he was laying underneath and, with a deep breath, threw it back.

He screamed as he saw another one sat in the middle of his mattress, its eight black eyes staring at him unblinkingly.

Instinct took over, and he grabbed his book and flicked the spider deftly from the bed onto the floor in less than a second.

It landed with a soft thud and scuttled under the dresser.

Unfortunately, he lost sight of it amongst the masses of other tarantulas that had appeared on his carpet.

Shivering, he almost screamed again as they surged forwards as one mass, starting to crawl up his bedposts.

Leaping from his bed, he landed on the chair beside the door, and yanked it open.

Preparing to leap from the room, he caught himself just in time.

The walls of his hallway were alive; they were everywhere; swarming over walls, floors and furniture. The pictures hanging on the wall were obscured by thick, hairy black bodies.

He felt something brush his foot lightly, almost a caress that he could barely feel, and screamed again when he saw they were clambering up the legs of the chair, coming for him.

Another touched his foot again, and yet another had started scuttling up inside his pyjama leg.

He opened his mouth to scream-

And found himself on his bed.

His heart would pounding in his chest, painfully.

He was sweating, and shivering with terror.

It was a dream. He told himself thankfully. Just a nightmare, Bill.

He tried to roll onto his back, to turn on the bedroom lights, and found he couldn't move.

His hands were secured with what he recognised as two of his own belts. His feet were strapped painfully to the bedposts.

A finger lightly stroked down his spine.

He almost screamed again, remembering his dream, when he heard a soft chuckle.

"Who the hell are you?" Bill Garrison fought to free himself from his bonds.

"You don't know me." The voice said. "And after tonight, no-one will ever know you again, either."

Bill whimpered softly.

"You're him, aren't you?" He whispered. "The guy from the news. The White Bridge..."

"Rapist." The voice said. "Can't you say that?"

Bill shivered at the menace in the voice.

He'd finally realised he was naked, his pyjamas lying in shreds on the floor beside the bed.

Bill watched as a black-gloved hand reached down and placed a blossoming red rose on his pillow, at the same time as a heavy weight settled across his hips.

Bill forced himself to remain still, fighting his fear, his revulsion, at what he knew was about to happen.

"Aren't you going to fight me?" The voice said harshly.

"Why make it pleasurable for you?" Bill said bitterly. "You get off on guys struggling."

"True." The voice laughed. "But you'll struggle in a moment. I guarantee it."

Bill yelped in pain as the man pushed into his body.

He started struggling against the belts holding him as the man violated him; despite his best efforts to stay silence, Bill was soon screaming and thrashing.

A fist thudded against his ribs, knocking the air from his lungs.

Gasping in a painful lungful air, Bill Garrison was able to scream one final time, before a sliver blade flashed in his periphery vision, and silenced him forever.