She sat under a large elm tree, looking like all the other people in the park - but inside - everything was going wrong. Her existence had run aground. Nothing with a pulse, just one day painfully, meaninglessly bleeding into the next.
Offensively empty. A life less lived.
Claire was at a crossroads. At twenty-six, she felt there was nothing left for her. Something had to change, sooner rather than later. Not a hairstyle, outfit or fucking hobby - she burned for meaning and purpose. Something special that would spark substance into her miserable being.
She often thought, in her darkest humor, that she’d either have to kill someone - or herself - in order to fulfill that desperate void. It was no longer an idea she took lightly. Claire chose the former. Now was the time to put her plan into action.
It’s all just a roll of the dice anyway.
Claire visits a coffee shop every day to people-watch. Perhaps her new conquest would materialize there. Days pass and no one seems to call out to her. She’s reconsidering her exit strategy when great potential comes through the door.
An older woman, about thirty-five, very nice looking in a dressed-down sort of way: queen of the plain Janes. Dark, near shoulder-length brown hair, fit but curvy, pale but healthy looking, bright clear eyes with an absolutely delicious English accent - the cherry on top!
Oh how she had waited.
She sat with her coffee a few tables away. It wasn’t long before Claire caught her eye - they both smile.
Eager to get her new life underway - Claire initiates.
“I’m sorry to bother you, have we met? You look ever so familiar.” she asks.
“No, I don’t believe we have. And it’s no bother. Why don’t you join me?” the woman kindly offers.
Claire smiles, goes to retrieve her drink and returns to the woman’s table.
“I’ve just moved here from Oxford and don’t know a single soul.” the woman admits.
“Ooo, England, I’ve always wanted to visit there.”
“It’s a wonderful place, the culture and history.”
“My name is Claire.”
“I’m Amelia, very nice to meet you Claire.”
They share a friendly handshake. Claire is immediately spellbound by the woman’s gorgeous sea-green eyes.
The two ladies talk, getting to know one another and decide to go for lunch at a nearby cafe. Afterwards, they proceed to Amelia’s house for further conversation over drinks. Claire’s plan was falling perfectly into place.
Amelia puts on some music, disappears into the kitchen and returns with two glasses and a bottle.
“I hope red wine is okay, it’s all I have presently.”
Claire beams and reaches for one of the glasses.
“That’s fine, I love red.”
They sit for a while, chatting, enjoying one another’s company. Claire is having serious second thoughts. She glances down at her bag on the floor beside her feet - tucked away inside - a syringe full of knockout drugs. Could she go through with this? Amelia was such a lovely lady, a kindred spirit and she was already growing quite fond of her.
Then a flushing wave of discomfort washes over Claire, she felt faint. This couldn’t be the two glasses of wine. The room turned fuzzy and took on a gradual spin. Oh this wasn’t good and she couldn’t hide her concern.
“Are you alright?” Amelia asks.
“I don’t know. I feel, strange. Dizzy.”
The fair-skinned brunette leans forward, placing her almost empty glass down on the large, beautiful oak coffee table and sits back in her billowy recliner - watching Claire struggle with this new set of circumstances.
“You know, when you approached me in the shop, I knew you were the one.” she says.
Claire fought to catch her breath, tears slowly caressing her cheeks.
“Weeks on end, day in - day out, waiting, hoping.”
“What have you done?” Claire barely manages above a whisper.
“But my patience has finally been rewarded. The Universe has brought you to me.”
The woman stands from her chair and moves gracefully towards her guest.
“It’s fine Claire, just let go, let it take you.”
Everything was blurring badly, light dimming, sound fading. Claire slowly spills from the plush luxury of the sofa onto the immediately unforgiving hardwood floor. The woman kneels beside her, cupping Claire’s head in her left hand - brushing her soft auburn hair from those pretty brown eyes.
“Careful what you wish for.” Amelia quietly taunts.
The words that carried her off into the dark and distant.
TWO HOURS LATER
Claire regains consciousness, bare of any clothing, chained to a wall in a dismal concrete room without windows. The furnishings were sparse, the air cool and damp. A long, black table hosts several erotic toys along with enough sharp steel implements to take an elephant apart. Blistering panic hits.
Several feet away, her rich umber mane now in a sophisticated bun atop her head, Amelia stands naked - covered only in what looks like blood.
“I hope you don’t mind, while you were out - I availed myself to a sample of your internal essence.”
Amelia had been a medic in the British Army for three years - a fact she neglected to divulge in previous conversation.
Claire now realized why her arm held the dull bruising pain at the elbow-bend. Not to mention the band-aid.
“You just smelled so scrummy, I had to have a taste, feel you on my skin.”
The woman lifts a serving tray from the table and bounces quickly over to Claire.
“Can’t have you feeling woozy now.”
On the tray were a few shortbread cookies and a small cup of apple juice.
“Seeing as you’re a bit tied up at the mo’, I will oblige.”
She raises one of the cookies to Claire’s quivering lips, Claire reluctantly indulges her. She did feel so very worse for wear. Losing nearly a pint of blood will do that.
“And a little drink.”
Amelia holds the cup to Claire’s mouth and she takes a few sips.
“Now, that should right the ship.”
She returns the tray to the table, spinning on a dime to face her new acquaintance.
“You know how to really tell if a melon is ripe?”
She leans in close to Claire’s left ear.
“You lick it!” she hisses, flicking her tongue underneath the fleshy lobe.
Claire spots the syringe she had hidden in her purse on the table amongst the toys and tools. Amelia catches her gaze, offering a devious grin in return.
“I wasn’t going to do it, I swear!” Claire cries.
“You lack follow-through.” the woman scolds callously as she rearranges the collection of blades, saws and gouging objects.
“You’ll play the part of innocence. I’ll be both your ruin and redeemer.” she says facing away from Claire.
The young lady has truly wandered into the lion’s cage.
“Let me go and I won’t say anything to anyone, I promise!”
Amelia turns, her dead eyes glare at the frightened creature in chain-cuffs.
“I’m going to fuck you, torture you, kill you and eat you.”
She walks seductively towards her new plaything, stopping very close, their noses touching.
“Thoughts?” she queries in a whisper.
“Please, please.” Claire begs, her breathy rasp barely audible.
The unhinged woman pulls away with a jerk, taking a few steps.
“But I am completely eco-friendly. Not one solitary inch of you shall go to waste.”
Claire’s chest is heaving, a few gentle sobs escape.
“Your hair, your skin, your eyes. I will use it all.”
Claire shatters into frantic, ghastly howling.
Amelia attaches a large rubber phallus to a cordless drill.
“Now my flower, let’s see what you’re made of.”
She had her fun with the girl, long into the hours of the night. The following day - things became much more serious. The lessons of bloodshed were excruciating. Claire’s wailing would never be heard beyond the concrete walls of that subterranean butcher’s lair.
She lasted all of seven hours.
