The Masked Murderer

A shallow wisp of smoke from his cigarette trekked slowly off into the air. He sat in the same spot every single time, a rusty steel chair. His eyes aiming for a perfect view of us. He smirked as he lurked behind his mask. We were nothing more than a heinous fetish fulfilled, as we hung from the ceiling like laundry out to dry. He examined us. Looking intensely at our bodies, gazing into our eyes. His voice disturbingly etched into my head. He looked at me, I looked away. I sobbed, in dire pain. My hands felt detached from my arms, as if they had magically disappeared, I couldn't feel them. The unbearable pain in my wrists trickled down into my arms. He stood up and walked over to Wendy. He took his butcher knife and slowly slid it down the side of her dark brown hair. "Please, no! I beg of you! Please, please, please!!" She pleaded, crying profusely as he stood in front of her wearing his distinctive mask, black gloves covered his hands. He was immaculately dressed in a black business suit, the kind you'd find on the cover of a GQ magazine. One had to wonder if it was just his psychotic obsession to dress up when he killed or if he was some kind of professional by day and murderer by night. A devilish laugh erupted from his mouth as he pointed the butcher knife to her abdomen, just like he did with the last two women he killed. We were strangers. He kidnapped each one of us. Throwing us into his grungy, dirty basement, one by one. Piling us up, collecting us like baseball cards, then killing us off like a five year old stomping on ants, with no emotion and no empathy. He relished in a gruesome, sadistic joy. I watched her cry out in agony as we hung there, our wrists tied to a chain that trailed from one end of the wall to the other. My heart skipping beats and rapidly pulsating to the point I thought my neck and chest were going to burst open at any second, at least then I'd be dead before he could kill me. The dim lights buzzed as if they were dying out, flashes of light flickered against the concrete walls, they were the only lights glimmering in the dark. We never knew if it was day or night. He took his butcher knife, swiftly entering it deep into her abdomen. "No!" She screamed out in pain, "Stop! Stop! Nooo!" "Ahh!" I screamed as tears rushed down my face. He twisted it while it was still inside her abdomen, she cried louder. I heard the swishing and squishing of her insides. I bowed my head, crying. Tears rapidly escaping my eyes and flowing relentlessly down my cheeks. He jerked the knife up, securing it into her body. Oh my God! Help us, please! Slowly he pulled the knife out. Blood, guts and pieces of flesh were stuck to the knife as he removed it from her abdomen. She hung there, dying a slow death. Her eyes rolling to the back of her head as she struggled to take one last breath. I turned my face the opposite way. I could not witness another death by the hands of that monster. He stood in front of me. I looked away. Pieces of my auburn colored hair fell in front of my face. I screamed, "No!" I hung there, helpless, awaiting my turn. I cried uncontrollably, my vision blurry, I couldn't see. My mouth tasted like I had gargled with salt water. I wish I could tell my parents, siblings and fiancé that I loved them, but I couldn't. I kept faith that they had already known. He was coming for me, I was next. We were all we had. We communicated with each other, but slowly one by one, he killed them off. All three of them and left me for last. I was going to die. He held the knife up. Reality began to set in. This was it. It's over. I kicked and shouted, I shook my chained wrists, in hopes that they would loosen, but the pain was too excruciating, so I stopped. My hands were numb, I couldn't feel a thing. I felt half dead, but I wasn't going to give up. "Ahh! No!" I screamed while steadily crying and kicking my legs in the air as I hung from the basement ceiling. Then I suddenly heard ruckus coming from the other side of the door. "Police! Come out with your hands up!" A loud and boisterious voice shouted from behind the door. Loud banging ensued. The masked man ran up the stairs. I'm not sure where he went, I didn't care. I just wanted to be free. "Help!!" I screamed. The door flew open and more cops than I could count came rushing through the door, like an aggressive waterfall rapidly flowing down a mountain. A few tripping over each other determined to find him and free me. "Where did he go?!" A short, heavy set police officer asked me. Through bouts of tears, I said, "To the left, up the stairs,"I used my head to direct him. "I know you're in a lot of pain, we're gonna get you down as quickly as possible," a young officer with spikey brown hair and a muscular build said to me. I was beyond happy to be found. All I wanted was Charles, my fiancé and my family. That's all I wanted after spending two weeks in hell. ***** I laid in the hospital bed, with IV lines running through my veins. My wrists were cut up pretty badly, but Dr. Spence said they would heal nicely. I also had permanent nerve damage in both of my hands. He said it shouldn't significantly affect my job as a waitress, but once he told me that I shouldn't carry too many plates or trays, I knew that meant I would have to look for another job. My face and neck had a few cuts and bruises, but I felt a whole lot better overall. The police never caught him, so they'd often visit me in the hospital, hoping I could recollect any of his facial features or his voice, but I couldn't. It was all disguised. He disguised his face, hands, body and even his voice. My parents and Charles all came to visit me in the hospital regularly. I suffered from PTSD and had constant flashbacks. I'd wake up in my hospital bed screaming from the nightmares that invaded my subconscious, but the nurses always tended to me right away. Charles felt bad about what happened, he kept blaming himself, saying that he was responsible because I had driven out to Houston to visit him. "Charles, it's nobody's fault, but the sick bastard who did this to me! Stop blaming yourself!" I said. He held his head down,"I'll try, Oliva. I really will." He sat next to me on a chair as I laid in bed. I stared at his head of thick brown hair and into his deep chestnut brown eyes, those were the two things that immediately attracted me to him when we first met, along with his 6'2 muscular frame. My eyes gazed into his, he still gave me butterflies. "Hug me,"I said to him. He bent over, putting his arms over my shoulders. The fabric of his black coat brushed up against my chin, the smell of his signature cologne crept into my nostrils, it was like taking a dose of Valium, his smell relaxed me, it calmed me. I felt safe as he rested his head on my shoulder. Our hug was akward because I was laying down, but it felt like the best hug he's ever given me. He then leaned in to kiss me. "I love you, Olivia," he whispered in my ear. His voice so mellow, it soothed me. "I love you too, Charles." *****Did you enjoy this chapter? If so, please let me know in the comments what you think! I would to hear your feedback!! Please don't forget to vote. Feed the empty star on the bottom of this page :-D