Embrace

This killer obviously had no need for subtlety. The trail of blood was like a trail of breadcrumbs, left here as a pathway, which led to only God could imagine what. The anonymous tip had been reliable, and I had no troubles tracking the clues, as though this murderer wanted me to find the crime scene. My pace quickened slightly as I rounded each corner, going deeper into the labyrinthine hospital, an ancient building that hadn't been touched in decades. The hall he was in had been scrubbed clean, having a pristine shine it probably hadn't possessed since it was new, and the only hint at it's age since he had entered was the decayed look that every side-path held.1

I stopped for a moment, my hand instantly coming up to stroke the small goatee that adorned my chin. The trail of blood had split. This certainly made things more interesting; like a game of hide and go seek, and the killer was calling out for the hiding spot to be found. Of course, no matter which path he took, he would eventually meet the end of the path, and find the next victim.2

After a moment of thought, I decided on the left. It was my preferred direction when met with an obstacle. There were only a few twists and turns before I reached what could be considered the dead end. Only one room, at the end of the hall, and the blood trail lead right to it. An almost disturbing excitement overtook me; would the killer still be here? What had he done do this next person. With an almost dramatic pause, my hand stopped just short of pushing the door open. Did I really want to see this, and was it right that I was alone? Maybe I should radio in where I was. But no, I had come to far, and I needed to know. So with that, I had made my way into the room.3

The first thing that I was able to notice was how bright the room was. Glaring fluorescent lamps hung from the ceiling, casting a harsh glow on the entire room, making it almost hard to look at. The trail of blood traced along the white-tiled floor to the back wall of the room, where the victim had been "set up". In what I would consider a disturbing attempt at art, the victim had several slash marks across the body, evidence that they had been bled out. Chains hung from the ceiling, holding the corpse in a twisted and gruesomely poetic pose, as if frozen in the moment in some dance. Of course, this dancer was missing his partner. Their blood had been used, of course, to decorate the wall around them. Ornate curves and enchanting geometric designs adorned the walls, the red "paint" spread thin. Hidden within this horrid art was a message, almost imperceptible in how it blended in. 4

"Eternally, his beauty is preserved. His grace shall forever live on." I read allowed. I scratched my head, disgusted. It was one thing to feel the need to kill, but this murderer had the compulsion to use his victims in his "masterpieces". It was puzzling how somebody could even stand to do this, but of course who was I to question the motives of a psychopath?5

In an instant, though, the room changed. An almost ominous chill overtook the air, and seemed to draw the breath from me. I shivered a little. I thought to look around, but that thought was cut short. A small pinch...to my neck. Then a burning sensation. After that, lightheadedness followed, and I could feel hands clasp my shoulders, and the breathing of whoever had approached me on my neck. 6

"Hello, detective." A female began. "I was wondering if you'd ever arrive."7

Panic set in, but only lasted for a second. I was out cold.8

* * * * *9

It was so cold in this place. So cold and dark, almost abysmal. I glanced around slowly, groggily, almost not comprehending what happened. But there was no question; whoever that woman was had kidnapped me. I could see her silhouette against the moonlight that poured in through the open window of this building. I tried to move, but I found myself immobilized. Not only that, but I found myself without a shirt....just like every other victim. How stupid I've been.10

"I see you're awake, Detective Richardson. I've been watching you for quite some time. Your struggles to find me, your attempts to comprehend the meaning behind what you conceive of as criminal acts. I must admit, I had thought maybe you would find me, that perhaps I had left evidence that would give me away sooner, or that maybe I wouldn't give myself enough time and you would arrive as I was finishing my pieces of art. This game has been fun. Very fun indeed."11

She walked towards me, a scalpel in hand. There was no question in my mind now, that she was planning on doing to me what she had done to all the others. I winced my eyes shut as she reached me, and felt a chill reach the side of my neck. I shivered for a moment, an ill feeling creeping into my stomach. Then, unexpectedly, she pulled the weapon away, leaning in and licking the wound. She pulled away, giving a slight smile.12

"You are far more fun than the rest. They just pleaded, and you would accept death more readily. Perhaps you're just worth saving after all."13

My eyes grew wide. So what did she have planned for me, then?14

"Yes," she said, "perhaps there is redemption in the future for you. I won't lie, you may hate me forever, but perhaps there is also the chance you'll thank me."15

I opened my lips to question her meaning, but before I could she leaned in. I felt her tongue first on my wound, and then her teeth biting. I gasped for breath, but after a moment I calmed a little. I was imprisoned, after all. With a sigh, I resigned myself to whatever should happen, and allowed myself to hang there, this twisted woman sucking on my neck as though I were her lover.16

I guess this means I'm not going to die...at least not yet.