As I drove home I son realised I had somehow got a painful cut on the sole of my right foot, also only then did I remember that, distracted by her bloody wound to her tongue, I had again not got round to feeding her. Struggling to stay awake on the motorway with the heater on full trying to dry off I mused, mesmerised by the windscreen wipers that I needed to get her a replacement sleeping bag next time I came down … I blinked and opened the window a little, nearly dropped off then …
Part 3
Today I had to drive to collect more components and while in the area I picked up a local newspaper to see if there was any report yet about a missing girl cyclist.
It didn’t mention a cyclist but there was her picture staring from halfway down page 4: “Concern Grows Over Missing Writer”. Her name is Michelle Arthurs-Brennan of Cycling Weekly. With trepidation a read on, it said there was concern about her safety since she was last seen in a very distressed state the early hours of Thursday morning last week. I felt a wave of relief that the manner of her disappearance was a complete mystery.
I read on. It appeared she had got paralytically drunk during the Wednesday afternoon and evening and then late that night had given herself to several men in and around a well known nightclub. I read on with a growing feeling that something wasn’t quite right.
They were asking any men who had had sex with her that night come forward both to assist with tracing her and to have a health check … I began to feel a bit sick … because she had been told at the hospital only that morning that she was she was HIV positive, after which her husband reportedly said “she totally lost it and trashed her house before going out to get drunk”.
Shaking I re-read the article hoping I had got it wrong. I couldn’t get out of my mind her bleeding cunt as I had forcibly raped her … three times! I started the van, immediately did a U-turn, and put my foot down heading for the quarry. I was going to kill the filthy slut. I was going to slice open her foul neck. I was going to rip open her contaminated belly. I was going to stab her in both eyes. I was going to…
I tried to calm down and think rationally, but all I could think of was that she had sentenced me to death. Why hadn’t the bitch died straight off in the road?
it was still midafternoon when I arrived at the quarry, this time I drove straight down to the end of the track After I switched off the engine I sat for a few minutes gathering my thoughts. As I gazed at the dark still waters of the flooded quarry I recalled seeing some rusty chain left over from when the boatyard had been there, I had previously been pondering its photographic possibilities.
I fetched the rusty piece of chain to the edge of the deep pond then returned to the van to get my large knife. I shakily walked to where I had hidden the girl and dragged her out blinking into the daylight. This time I removed the sleeping bag from her by slashing it with the large knife, not too worried whether it also caught her flesh as well. She was sobbing weakly as I cursed and abused her repeatedly with every foul word I could think of.
I slashed the bonds from her wrists and ankles and started dragging her by the hair along the rough ground towards the flooded quarry. As she struggled to take away some of the strain by trying to get onto all fours I let go and walked behind her, “move bitch” I shouted and jabbed at her right buttock with the knife, she probably tried her best but I then stabbed the knife deep into her left buttock till it grated on bone and she collapsed to the floor again sobbing into her gag.
I dragged her the rest of the way by her hair then near the edge of the pond I rolled her onto her side and kicked her in the belly as hard as I could so her torso was flung three feet nearer the water before she doubled up in pain. I pulled her up by her filthy long hair onto her knees then wound the rusty chain round her twice before using bits of rope to make it fast to her arms and legs, she certainly wasn’t going to float! I suddenly realised that a lot of her filthy blood was going to be spurting around so I stripped off putting my clothes safely in the van. I returned and pulled her head back so I could look straight into her eyes, I screamed hysterically “die slut, die in agony, you foul god forsaken animal” as I ran the tip of the knife down her belly, from her sternum down into her pubic hair leaving a jagged bloody line. I pulled my arm back for the fatal blow aiming through her belly button towards her spine
Her side of the story
Last Thursday morning I had come to lying on a bench in the stupid local park. With horror I had a vague recollection of fucking people I didn’t know, several times – I can’t fucking remember – the night before. Shit! That was the last fucking thing I should have done. Why me, those fucking friends of mine had injected drugs lots of times, but me- one needle and that’s me screwed – end of! I hate me!
Head still bloody throbbing and racked with guilt at my fucking selfish actions the night before which have probably ruined several other poor bastards’ lives I went back to our shitty little bedsit. I needed to clear my head, so put on my cycling clothes and pedalled madly out of the sodding town.
The frantic pedalling made my feel good, I pedalled harder than I had ever done before delighting in the pain in my muscles. I had screwed up proper! I didn’t want to live! I saw a large petrol tanker coming towards my. I delighted in the thought of me splatting into the front of it and my filthy diseased body being shredded beneath its multiple huge wheels, and prepared to swerve into its path.
Then that twat in that silly tiny van got in my way! But when the fucking idiot managed to knock me into the hedge I thought perhaps I was finished after all. When I came to in the van I had no fucking idea where I was or what was happening. I hoped it was hell with all the pain!
Even when that sadistic bastard tortured and abused me I tried to warn him not to fuck me but I just got two fucking teeth smashed in for my effort. Why did the stupid twat go to such efforts to keep me alive – I wanted to fucking die!
The next night he came I was disappointed to still be alive, especially when the silly sod raped me again. I had started to be glad of all the pain I was in knowing I deserved punishing for being such a selfish stupid cunt that Wednesday night but what disgust I felt when I found myself enjoying the rape this time. The more he hurt me the greater the ecstasy but I still can’t fucking believe that shameful orgasm! I nearly managed to explain to him but the sod gagged me again too quickly!
The next few nights I delighted in dying of thirst. I struggled to get out of the sleeping bag into the freezing autumn air but my bonds were to tight. Still I hoped that dehydration would finish me even if exposure couldn’t.
Then the bastard came back. I thought he was going to do the job properly and execute me by crucifixion but he was only fucking role playing, the stupid sod!