The door opened and the light spilled through the darkness, touching the foot of a young girl in a white dress. She sat on a bed, and looked up to see him in the doorway. Her heart raced, afraid of what was going to happen. He stepped closer and reached out with his hand and she took it, letting him help her rise to her feet. His smile was not filled with happiness, but something devious, something that was meant for what was going to happen.
"Come, my dear," he spoke, leading her out of the room. The walls were dark, narrow, and as they entered a bright room with a backdrop of a field. He placed her in the center and smiled. "You're going to be my art for this evening."
What did he mean? She was afraid, because he had taken her from her home, from her family, off the street with a knife to her throat. He had a deep, sultry voice that was empty of promises before dragging her away into the night. He locked her in a room and left a dress for her to change into, and he did not speak to her for several hours, or maybe several days.
He was young with deep lines around his mouth, short brown hair with one part covering his right eye. He was dressed in a clean blue suit with red gloves that touched her tentatively on her arms.
"Are you going to let me go?" she asked, her voice was quiet, it ached from not being used. Her heart hurt, and her body trembled with fear. What was he going to do with her? The lights behind him blurred her sight, but he towered over her and his smile was hungry.
He snaked a hand behind his back. "Not yet, my dear. I want you to be my art, my glorious, beautiful artwork for this evening." He had something in his hand and he thrust it into her stomach, a pained gasp left her lips, her body lurching and her legs almost failing her. Her mouth was opened, she couldn't get any breath out, not when the pain snaked its way from her stomach.
The blade was dug to the hilt and he grasped her shaking hand and placed it around the handle. The blood seeped over her hand and with the added pressure, a choked groan escaped her.
"Shhh," he said, stepping back, "stay there, don't move." He went back to the large camera.
She could feel the blood soaking her dress and dripping to the floor. Now she knew why he picked white, it had a floral design on the front, a small bow on the back. Not exactly thin, but soft and elegant.
Her legs almost buckled and he heard him clicking his tongue. "Don't move. Stay there and stand up straighter."
She closed her eyes tightly and tried to do what he said, but the pain cut sharply through her body, whimpering, her hand tightened on the knife. She had the urge to pull it out, to stop the pain, but she was afraid of what he would do to her if she did.
"Smile."
She blinked, her breath coming out in gasps as she raised her eyes at the camera. He was there, he was making a joke of this, calling it art when it was actually horrific. Whatever anger she could of welled up only drowned out by fear and exhaustion.
"I said smile," he said, aggravated.
She tried to smile, but her lips twitched and her eyes burned with tears. The taste of copper rose in her mouth, and even with the fear, she choked on the blood and it spilled from her lips, trailing down to her chin. And for a moment she thought she was convincing with the smile, with her back slightly straight and her legs shaking.
He took the picture and the sound made her cry out as her legs finally buckled and she fell. Her knees slammed into the wood, pain shooting up from the odd angle as her hand came down to hold herself up. The knife would only go in deeper if she fell flat on the floor. Her body was shaking so badly that she thought her arm would give out.
"Please...please..stop," she whimpered, tears finally streaking down her face, the blood falling from her lips to the mahogny floor.
He slowly walked toward her and knelt down. His finger moved under her chin and raised her head. He was still smiling, as if the entire thing amused him to no end. He reached for her hand, brushing it away from the bloody handle. He gripped it tight and with another cry ripping from her throat, he dragged the knife out and he let her fall to the floor.
She shuddered, her skin was growing cold, and she stared at the feet of her murderer as he stood up and walked away. Was he going to leave her there to die? She figured he would as his footsteps grew quiet with each passing second until he was gone completely. Her tears blurred her sight, but it didn't matter, her eyes were drooping shut and before long, she closed her eyes and everything went black.
She awoke, she didn't expect it, but her hands went straight for the wound and felt the edges of stitches in her skin where the man stabbed her. She clenched her teeth at the sharp pain as she moved her hands away from the wound. She looked around the room and recognized it as the one where he locked her in.
Was he going to return? She hoped he didn't, but she also hoped he released her. She didn't want to stay here anymore, what he was doing was terrible. He was going to end up killing her, and no one was going to know where she's been.
She stayed on the bed as long as she could. Listening to the sounds outside, but there weren't any. She tried to sit up, but the pain kept her complacent.
Her hands stilled when she heard the sounds of footsteps nearing the room. She breathed hard as the door unlocked and opened. He walked in and closed the door. He didn't look surprised that she was awake and he sat down beside her on the bed.
"I have something for you," he said, giving her a photo.
She took it, her hands shaking as she turned it over and what she saw was herself. A bleeding, smiling girl on the brink of crying in a field of wildflowers.
She looked up at him, and he was smiling, as if what he did was a grand achievement when in truth, it was disgusting, a disturbing qualification that was disillusioned as art. She dropped the photo and it fell between them.
She said in a low tone, her eyes blinking with tears, "You're a terrible, ruthless, murderer and when the cops find you, I hope you rot in prison for what you've done."
He reached for the picture and looked at it, amusement glinted in his eyes. "They won't find me, and they won't find you, my beautiful art. I have more plans for you in the future, and eventually when they find you, they won't even recognize you when I'm done."
He stood and without looking back at her, he left the room and locked the door.
She stared in complete and utter shock at the realization that this man was going to keep her alive, that he wasn't going to let her go anytime soon. And she was afraid of the plans that he had for her. All she could do was cry in the bed, her hands covering her face, wiping at her tears, with the reminder of his promise in her stomach.
Notes:
This idea was on my mind for over a month and I wasn't sure if I wanted to upload it since it was incomplete inside my head. But I worked with what I got and here it is. :D
I hope you enjoy.
Reviews are appreciated. No flames or bashing please.