Hand of the Devil

Cold. The only thing she felt was the cold. Nothing else.

The wind blew her hair around her. The snow seeped its way into her shoes. She wasn't expecting the need to wear anything other than her basic canvas shoes today. It was supposed to just be a normal Thursday. Classes at 9AM. Lunch with friends at 1PM. Dinner with her sister at 7PM at her sisters favorite restaurant. It was an easy day, a simple one. Yet here she was, stuck out in the cold, hiding behind a tree, listening for the soft crunch of snow under his footsteps.

The wind was loud in her ears, yet he was heavy footed. His large boots caused the snow to crunch with every step he took. Closing in on her. She was able to smell the stench of a brewery with each heavy step. The small grunts he released as he tried to find his footing in the dark sent shivers down her spine. With each crack of a twig under his boots her heart would leap, her breath would simply cease. The crunching snow became deafening in her ears. It came to a point where she was unable to hear her own thoughts. Which was a huge problem that needed to be fixed right away. The only way she would be able to get out of this was with her wits. If she didn't have those, she truly had nothing.

- - -

He stumbled over his footing in the dark. He could smell the sugary sweet poison she called perfume. It was one of the things that called to him when he saw her not so many weeks ago. He knew the moment he saw her dark brown hair, baby blue eyes, and bright smile that he just had to have her. She was the one he had seen in his dreams. The one that he had been told to grab. He wasn't sure what exactly he was going to do with her once he got his hands on her. All he knew was it would be messy.

The wind carried her short breaths right into his ears. The sound was like a drug to him. He could listen to her cries for the rest of his days. Knowing he was going to her pleas for mercy was truly what had him silently wandering in the dark woods in the dead of winter. He knew she was a fighter, in fact that's one of the reasons he was so drawn to grabbing her. The fight was one of the sweetest parts of the interaction. This was never as fun when the prey was compliant. It made it almost boring to have an animal that was just ready to see its end. No, the best part of this was going to be capturing his prize. Capturing his prized trophy, then being able to display her in all the diabolical ways he could think of. Showing to world how truly beautiful the art of death could be.

- - -

She closed her eyes for just a moment. It couldn't have been more than a single heart beat. That's when she felt it. His harsh grab on the back of her throat. She tried to scream, she really did. Yet nothing came from her lips. His arm wrapped itself around her waist, his free hand wrapped around her throat. Crushing her larynx, snatching the air from her lungs. She struggled in his grasp as he took in a deep inhale. Smelling the perfume that sat on top of her skin.

"I knew you would be a fun one to play with. He told me getting you would be a pleasure that I have yet to experience."

His words were daggers into her ears. The low growl from his throat was primal. She could feel the fear of death rising with each thrash of her legs trying to escape his grip. His hand left her throat for just a moment. Just long enough for her to let out a scream. A scream so loud it could have caused the ears of any normal human to bleed. Not him though.

She heard a low chuckle from behind her. A cold metal pressed to her neck. The cold of the metal burned against the red marks he had left with his hand.

"Your screams are only gasoline to my fire. I do this to hear those screams. To hear the pain coming from you.' He sighed deeply. 'Or else this would just be another bloody mess for me to clean up."

It was in that moment she knew her fight was truly over. This was the night to truly end all other nights. It's almost as if there was a shred of peace to be found in the knowledge that death was coming to her soon. There was comfort in the idea that soon there would be nothing left for her to worry about. Graduation would no longer plague her every waking moment. Fights with her mother would no longer keep her awake at night. Worries about settling down with someone after college would no longer cause her panic. Maybe this was better? Maybe giving into this brutes psychopathic nature would bring relief. Is it actually possible that letting this giant man's silver blade sink into her flesh be the outcome that she pictured?

In the midst of her thoughts she felt it. She felt that searing pain that no man, woman or child should ever have to feel. She cried at the drag on her flesh. She screamed at the warm liquid running down her chest. The pain lit her ablaze. This couldn't be the way she left this world. This was too much pain, too much brutality. There were over a hundred other ways she could think of dying that would be better than this god forsaken destiny. Giving this truly dastardly, disgusting soul the gratification of giving in just wasn't in her agenda. It just wasn't in her nature to give anyone anything they were not deserving of. Especially her body, her pain, or her fear. No, that just wasn't going to be happening tonight.

- - -

He felt her body still. She was still breathing, just not fighting back as much. Most likely from the large gash he left on her chest. It was deep enough to cause immense pain, but not deep enough to kill. Not yet anyways. He still wanted to have fun with his new toy. There was a reason for her death. Something bigger than the both of them. Something even he didn't fully understand. All he truly knew is that something, someone was calling him to carry this gruesome death out.

Night after night he had the dreams. To others they would be considered nightmares. No one of sound mind would wish to have the dreams he had nightly. To him though, they were messages. Someone, something was calling him in the dead of night. Calling for him to do his bidding. All he needed was her, his hand around her throat while his other attempted to cut out her still beating heart. He relished in the thought of what he could gain from carrying out this dastardly deed. Knowing whatever punishment befell him it wouldn't matter because of the eternal glory that stood awaiting him.

His hand became sticky with the crimson that soaked it. He ran his thumb along the base of the knife, inhaling the sweet scent of iron mixed with her perfume. He was enamored by the wimpers of pain escaping her lips. The sound brought a genuine feeling of warmth into his cold heart. He knew she was feeling pain. He knew she was hurting. All he wanted was her being torn apart thread by thread. Nothing could ever to compare to the bittersweet adoration a man has with his sacrifice.

---

She had lost. Her top had now become a torn rag soaked in blood. Her legs had stopped kicking. She had lost her wits, as now the only thought on her mind was the pain she was feeling in her chest. As much as craved the fight. As much as she felt the need to live. The thought of just simply giving into his grasp, his blade, was becoming better and better by the second. All she ever did her whole life was fight. Fight with her mom, fight for her voice, fight for her career. She was tired, so tired.

The more blood she lost, the hazier her thoughts became. The hand that was once holding her windpipe hostage had now made its way to her mouth. Keeping every sound she was trying to muster silenced. She wanted to bite him, hit him, kick him, anything. Just anything. But she couldn't, she was done. She was ready to give into the devil that held her down. Her fate was sealed with one final gash.

The tip of the large knife began at one ear. She felt the point under her ear, right on her throat. It was at that moment she silently whispered her goodbye to the world that treated her so badly. She sent out her final words of hope that maybe someone would at least find her body in this vast length of woods, or whereever this brute dragged her too.

In a moments notice her thoughts were gone. Her screams were cut short. Her neck was sliced open.