Uncommon Curiosity

(Continued from Awake)

“Hello again.”

It was that guy from the bar, the creepy guy who had stood in the back and stared at her the night before.  Susan tried to sit up, but her arms wouldn’t move and her legs felt like lead.  As her eyes slowly cleared, she could see that they were in a forest, and he was holding something that glinted in the sun.

“You sure did sleep a long time,” he said, the laughter in his voice making Susan shudder.  He put his hand on her shoulder and slid his fingertips along her bare arm and Susan gasped.  “You were out like a light…nope, nothin’ woke you up.”  He laughed again and Susan stared at him in horror, afraid to ask what he meant.

The man lifted his other hand and she could see he was holding a big, black knife with a polished silver blade, the kind you’d expect to see in a Stallone movie…sharp and cruel.  He smiled down at her and then placed the blade against her shoulder and Susan screamed.  With terrifying precision, he slid it under her spaghetti strap and pulled up, easily slicing through.  Susan caught her breath and thought she was going to throw up.  She pulled at her arms – why weren’t they moving? – and realized that she was bound, wrists to her sides, legs spread apart, tethered to the ground somehow.  She couldn’t raise her arms, but she could twist her hips to move her shoulders, and so she struggled to pull her hands through, cursing him loudly and screaming for help.

“Now, darlin’, I don’t mind you makin’ all that noise, but if you’re gonna wiggle around like that, someone’s gonna get hurt.”  The way he smiled as he pressed the blade to her cheek made Susan stop cold, barely a whimper escaping her lips.  He placed a heavy, rough hand on her throat and held her down as he sliced through the other strap.  Then he looked into her eyes and purred, “I’ve been waitin’ for you to wake up cuz I didn’t want you to miss this,” as he placed the flat of the blade against her collarbone.  Susan gasped and instinctively arched her back, holding her breath and squeezing her eyes shut, wondering fearfully what death would feel like.  But, instead of the cold, cruel cut she was expecting, he ran the knife down her chest and across one breast.  Her nipple was hard from a mixture of cold and fear and he traced circles around it.  Then, as she started to relax and exhale, she felt the knife stop and turn up on edge, and then bite down.

“Be very still, darlin’, and this won’t hurt.  Much,” he said, the laughter in his voice replaced by something hard and hungry.  Susan could feel her heart beating in her head, throbbing faster as he pressed down against the fabric of her shirt and then slid sickeningly around the side of her nipple.  She was sure he had cut into her skin and waited to feel the sharp pain and warm trickle of blood…but it didn’t come.

He pulled at the fabric of her shirt with his other hand and slid the knife through the slit he had made, pulling it around smoothly until he had cut out a circle.  He let the fabric fall back as Susan opened her eyes to see her uncut nipple poking out through the hole.  Susan’s first thought after “Thank god I’m not dead!” was “and that fucking bastard cut a hole in my favorite shirt!  Goddammit!”, which made her laugh out loud at herself.  She was pretty sure god would understand the pressure she was under and forgive her praising and cursing him in the same breath, but worrying about clothing at a time like this?  That seemed ridiculous, even by her own, rather loose, standards.  As she relaxed onto the ground, heady from her reprieve, her thankful exhale was cut short as he suddenly pierced the top of her nipple with the tip of his knife.  He held it there as he leaned over her, his strong hand holding her mouth and pressing her head roughly to the ground.

“Now, darlin’, are you gonna promise to be a good girl?”

Susan fought the impulse to scream as pain and fear flooded her head, managing to nod at him, eyes wide and pleading.

He lifted the blade and put it against her throat.

“I can be nice, and I can be mean…”  He pressed the knife to her skin, sliding it sideways and drawing a faint line in red just below her jaw line.

“And you wouldn’t like me mean.”