And then crush her.
Girls like his Sara had never appealed to him in the past, but a single look at her photo had changed all of that. He had never been the type to imagine anything, but with her, it had been the opposite. All at once he had been able to picture her big Bambi eyes filled with fear as his fingers gripped her long, cinnamon-colored hair. He didn't even have to close his eyes to see himself fucking the innocence out of her mouth, and that had been it for him: his cock had jumped from soft and rested to twelve inches of rock-hard arousal, and as soon as he had taken his erection out of his pants, a couple of fast, hard strokes was all that was needed, and he had spent himself in moments, his semen shooting out to splatter against her photo on his wide-screen monitor.
Girls like her were meant for the light, and his Sara's only mistake was to unwittingly catch the eye of a monster like him. Girls like her were lines that monsters like him should never cross, and for the longest time, he had struggled (and barely managed) to keep his distance. He had wanted her to have a normal life and never know that monsters like him existed.
It would have stayed like that, too, except—-
Sara turned out to have secrets of her own.
Secrets that, once uncovered, could not be unseen.
THERE WAS A WORLD HE used to live in.
And in that world, every woman was believed to have a hidden appetency to be subjugated and abused...and that men like him were born with the key to unlocking those darkly precious desires.
He had done his best to forget the years he had spent in that world.
But Sara's secrets made them all come back, and try as it might, the monster in him could no longer resist her.
Sara was the very definition of the perfect woman in that world, and once her secrets had him crossing the line, there was no turning back.
It was the beginning of the end.
Her end.
The Captive
Mr. Sinister in Table 4 has been watching me all night.
I'd be a liar if I say I didn't notice it, and an even bigger liar if I say his attention doesn't make me feel hot and bothered.
The newcomer bears a strong resemblance to Paul Newman at his scruffily sexiest, and if I weren't so insecure, I'd love to take a closer look just to see if his eyes are also as blue. I hope it is, and I think it would break my heart if it's not.
I've seen the way Mr. Sinister made heads literally turn and stay turned the moment he came in. I've seen how Kelly, who's last year's prom queen, has been desperately trying to catch his eye for the past half hour. But strangely, it's as if he doesn't see anyone or anything else. The only one he has eyes for is me...and that's why I find him so, well...
Sinisterly.
Our small town is just ninety minutes away from NYC. More often than not, the proximity means that city-dwelling serial killers would occasionally find their way to Ivy Creek, and tomorrow's local headlines would include a neighbor's name, now deceased and suspected to be the latest victim of Killer X, Y, or Z.
I'm not saying I'm convinced Mr. Sinister is likely to be the next Ted Bundy or Son of Sam, but neither am I closing the door on the possibility that he's just as murderous. If I were drop-dead gorgeous, I'd have taken his interest in me in stride. But I'm not, and there lies in the problem...among other niggly red flags that I can't make myself ignore.
Tap N Tap is worse than your run-of-the-mill bar, and I have a hard time imagining why Mr. Sinister would even know this place exists. Like everything else in Ivy Creek, my workplace is old and ugly, and when our decades-old A/C throws a tantrum, the entire bar also ends up smelling like poop, thanks to Old Joe's chicken farm next door. It's just how things are in this town, and the only thing that's "Fancy" here is the fairly kind but foul-mouthed lady who runs the local pharmacy a few blocks down.
Our bar mostly has locals as regulars, plus the occasional trucker who's made a pit stop at Ivy Creek's lonesome motel. If we're unlucky, we'd also have New Yorkers coming in to slum it, and it's those nights that I hate the most. In my admittedly not-so-vast experience, the richer they are, the nastier they get, and they tip quite horribly, too.
Even though I've just turned eighteen, I've been working at Tap N Tap for over a year, and the time I've spent here has made me rather good at figuring out who's who.