The predator scanned the dark parking lot of the campus library, taking in the glow of the street lights and the sparse number of cars. Few cars was a good sign, the predator knew. It meant that few people were likely to be around see. If someone had happened to see, they would call the police. It would complicate matters, but in the end it would not really matter. The predator smiled. The police could investigate all they wanted, in the end the predator knew it had nothing to fear. Tonight the thirst was in control, and there was nothing anyone could do to stop it.
She walked swiftly through the parking lot clutching her purse, her white Nikes squeaking with every other step. She had accidentally popped air pocket on the left shoe a week ago. It bothered her at first, but now she didn't even register the noise. Her attention was instead focused on the green Honda parked at the other end of the lot. It had been a productive evening in the library, and she was feeling very satisfied with herself. Her single mindedness was so complete that she didn't turn to look when she heard the sliding door of the van she was nearing. She did turn when she felt the hand grab the wrist which held her purse. She gasped when she felt the knife being pressed to her throat.
"Get in the car slut," the gruff voice of the man ordered. Curiously, it was surprise that registered at the front of the girl's mind first. How could she have been taken like this, without any idea that someone was coming after her? Barely a heartbeat later, she made the decision to run. She twisted her wrist out of his grip, and turned away from the knife to run. She made it several paces when it occurred to her a knee in the crotch before she ran would have made for a better escape. In the next instant the man impacted with her back and they sprawled onto the pavement.
He hadn't been ready for the girl to run. Sometimes they ran before he got close to them, but not once he had his knife out. When girls saw the knife they usually begged and cried. He liked it when they cried, when they begged. But it was so much better when they resisted. This one was tough, she had surprised him almost enough to escape. But he was smarter than any woman could ever hope to be. She never really had a chance of beating him.
The man straddled her on the pavement and ground his crotch into her hip. "You almost got away," he whispered into her ear, "can you feel how excited that made me?" She did feel it when he ground himself on her body, the hard length of him through his jeans left no doubt in her mind what his intentions were. He was not after her purse, the man on top of her had something far more intimate he wanted to steal. He raised his fist with a smile that hinted at dark things to come, then her vision was quickly consumed by his fist.
She tried to open her eyes, but the blindfold was too tight against her face. She was still wearing the black yoga pants and tank top she had come out of the library in, but her jacket had been taken from her. She could feel the cold metal of the handcuffs which spread her arms out across the mattress. Her feet were similarly spread to either side tied to the posts at the foot of the bed with rope instead of handcuffs. She barely had time to recognize the feel of the sheet before her blindfold was removed.
The man who had abducted her was standing over her with her blindfold in his hand. He looked mid thirties, average height, average weight, average Joe. Jeans and a simple black T-shirt hung on his body. His arms were slightly muscled, and the outline of his chest could be seen through his shirt. The man wasn't toned like an athlete, but he had clearly kept himself in shape. He was not unattractive in his own way, except for his eyes, in his eyes there was a strange hunger when he looked down on her.
She had expected to be raped in his van, instead he had brought her here, to this strange room. He clearly thought she had been unconscious on the trip from the library to what she assumed must be his house. She had played the part and kept her eyes shut and her body relaxed until the blindfold had been removed. Now she got her first glance of the room she was tied up in. It was clearly an unfinished basement of some kind. From the age and look of the man who held her she wouldn't be surprised to have been in the suburbs of the city. The bed she was sprawled out upon was the only furniture in the room. Several video cameras were placed strategically around it, like the production studio of an X-rated film. She saw the walls of the basement last, and it wasn't until then that she realized where she truly was.
Snapshots of over a dozen different girls were taped to the walls. All were taken in the middle of varying sexual acts. Most of the girls were crying, sobbing at what was being done to them. Some had a dead and defeated stare, as though they were not really there but someplace far better. The woman knew exactly where she was. High school and college age girls had been disappearing across the city for over a year now. The police and FBI had no leads on any of them. She had been taken by a serial killer the papers had begun comparing to Ted Bundy.
As this realization sunk in the man began removing her shoes. First the right, then the left, which squeaked feebly when he dropped it on the cement floor of the basement. Then he removed her socks, before reaching in his pants and getting out his knife again. When she saw the knife her eyes grew wipe and a whimper escaped her lips. She closed her eyes and felt the first tears leak out and run down the side of her face.
"Are you afraid?" she suddenly realized his face was right next to hers, his breath in her ear, and something else: the knife was pressed against her throat again.
