The Psychopath Chronicles

Marley woke up in a strange bedroom. Her mind fuzzy as she looked around the beautifully appointed bedroom. There were no windows, though the room seemed bright and airy. Yellow canopy bed, with while lace fringe. Her eyes turning to the dark wood chest with antique handles, standing next to a glider rocker. “What is going on?” she thought, as she tries to shake the webs of confusion from her head. “Where am I?” memories of what happened filling her head. The car; the man in the back seat at the gym; driving down some street. Shaking her head, trying to clear her thoughts.

“This has to be a dream.” Almost to herself as fear starts to creep through her body. Quickly flipping the silken covers off and dashing for the door. Grabbing the knob with her hand and twisting. She feels a sudden steady jolt, her arm starting at ache, she screams and fights to let go of the knob. Frantic she starts to scream, “HELP” “HELP.” Screaming over and over pounding on the door.

He could not have been happier with how things turned out. He had freed Marley from her miserable life and had her back at their love nest. “This is indeed a good day,” he thought, taking a deep sniff of her panties before tossing them and the rest of her clothes into the incinerator. “She will thank me, “nodding to himself as he searched through her purse. “Getting rid of all of these horrible memories; these ugly fake people.” Tossing pictures of Marley’s husband and children into the fire, watching them melt in the heat. “She will forget all about these people, once she realizes her love for me.”

Closing the door to the incinerator and walking out of the building into the morning light. “Just one thing left,” said to no one. Opening the door of her car, he gets in and turns the key, driving through the gate. The car crusher was in the far corner of his salvage yard. It was Saturday, so the yard was empty, driving beneath the huge magnet he would use to lift the car. He grew up in this yard and he knew all this machinery intimately. Stepping up into the seat of the crane magnet, lifting the car up and over the crusher and watching it drop in. Thinking about all the times he had done this, but none as special as this, smiling to himself as her entered the control room for the crusher. “Goodbye Marley’s old life.” Never had he felt so complete and satisfied as he heard the metal and glass break and bend from the pressure of the crusher always so calming to him.

It took her a moment to realize she was naked, too involved in trying to get out, beating the door until she was breathless, sobbing, tears falling down her face as the horror struck. “What has he done?” realizing she was at his mercy, unconscious for who knows how long, she pulled a sheet from the bed and crumpled up on the floor in a ball of tears still now sure what was going on.

“Good Morning,” she heard a strange yet vaguely familiar voice. I was only then she realized the camera in the corner of the room. “WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO ME!” she screamed through tears. “LET ME OUT OF HERE!” Head rising to stare directly at the camera. “I assure you; nothing has been done to you, my love. “Who are you? “Why are you doing this to me?” her voice choked with tears and emotion, wiping them in the sheet. “There are tissues on the nightstand,” the voice from the camera said. “I have freed you from your horrible life so that we may begin ours.” “Ours what?” confused voice. “JUST LET ME GO! I DON’T LOVE YOU! “she screamed at the camera then hiding her face in the sheet sobbing. “You may not love me now, but you will when you see, we are meant to be,” the voice said. “I will never love you, you sick motherfucker “she sobbed. “LET ME OUT!” her voice going hoarse. “I know you think you feel that way,” the voice said calmly. “But soon, you will see this is all for the best.”

The voice went silent as Marley lay there sobbing. Picking her head up she looked about the room. “Escape, there has got to be a way to escape,” she thought to herself. Trying to calm herself and think as she takes in her surroundings. One door opened to what seems to be a bathroom, the other louvered for what must be a closet. Vents in the ceiling, bringing in cool air. The carpeting on the floor tickling her naked buttocks. “Think Marley, there has got to be a way,” rising off the floor the sheet wrapped about her. Curiosity getting the best of her, she slides the closet door open. Eyes widen when she sees the collection of lingerie, bodices, corsets. Sheer stockings, white lacey socks, high heels, black pattern leather shoes. A sick feeling came over her as she realized, “He’s not letting me go.”

The sound of the latches on the outside awoke her to a new horror as she spun around. There he was. Frozen in panic she stared, unconsciously taking a step back into the closet as her eyes moved to his face. “Don’t be afraid,” he said. He voice was deep but had a softness that flowed like warm caramel. Deep black eyes, dark hair, a days’ worth of shadow lined his face. “I won’t hurt you.” The sweetness in his voice caught her off guard. “Please,” she whispered, tears starting to flow from her eyes, her back against the closet wall, almost hidden by the clothes. He smiled as she spoke and took a further step in. “I’ve brought you lunch,” he said. “You must be hungry.” He put the tray of food down on the bed.

“Please,” she said again, “I have children and a family to get to.” Taking a small step forward. His faced changed; a bit, darker. “The sooner you accept that your other life is over,” voice still calm but a rising edge. “The sooner we can get on with our life.” He turned from the tray to look at her. Those black eyes sending a shiver right through her. Still she took another tiny step forward, her only thoughts are how to get out alive and back to her children. “If it’s sex you want.” He cut her off in mid-sentence, his voice a colder undertone. “If all I wanted was sex from you, Marley, you would be dead and buried already, like the others.”

“The other’s,” whispered under her breath, words that made her freeze. He noted her obvious fear and his soft smile appeared again. “Marley my love, I have told you,” taking a step toward her as he speaks. “I freed you from that life. Freed from the loser man and the pathetic, ugly children that you had to endure with him.” Marley steps back into the closet again as he steps closer. Her hands, behind her back, desperately searching for, something, anything to grab. “Tonight,” his face lighting up. “Tonight, we celebrate our honeymoon.”

“Honeymoon?” trying to keep her voice calm, forcing a smile as best she can. “But we have not been married yet and I don’t even know your name.” She steps forward again, even with the closet door. He smiled as she took interest in him, wanting to know his name and talking about marriage. “You can call me Sebastian. “She noticed the immediate change in is demeanor. “As far as marriage,” his black eyes softened more. “I love you Marley, I would never make you a whore. There will be a wedding first.” He stepped right up to her, a tall opposing man, and put his hands out to take hers in a loving gesture.

Sacred to the point of sick, but it was now or never. “On his next step closer.” she thought. Hands at their waists and his face wide open, she clenched her and with all her might she swung and hit him in the face as hard as she could, screaming, I AM ALREADY MARRIED YOU SICK FUCK.!” ducked around him and headed in full running stride to the door. Sebastian immediately grabbed his eye, surprised at her strength for such a small thing. She was almost at the door. Frantic, scared, reaching for the doorknob within inches when she came crashing to the floor. Her feet tangled in the sheet she was wrapped in. His boot covered foot standing firmly on the end.

“THAT,” he said first time raising his voice, “was a really nice punch Marley,” said with a sneer. She turned over, as he walked toward her stepping on the sheet still tending to his eye. She tried to scurry backwards like a crab on her hands and feet. “LEAVE ME ALONE, YOU SICK MOTHERFUCKER, LEAVE ME ALONE! She screamed. “HELP!” ”HELP!” He leaned down and picked her up, by her hair. “You are lucky,” he said, a cold like ice meanness in his tone. “Lucky I want you beautiful for a wedding pictures, or I would beat the piss out of you for this.” He easily tossed her small frame on the bed. “There is a wedding dress on the chair over there.” Still touching over his eye with his hand. “Make sure you have it on and ready when I come back,” hand on the door turning back to her one last time. “Oh, and I regret to inform you,” eyes looking directly at hers. “You’re a widow.” Not a hint of emotion in his voice, opens the door out, steps through and it closes behind him. The latching of the door; the sound of her fate.