by Josh Shiben
***
The ride home was mostly silent, only punctuated by brief bouts of awkward conversation. Nadya seemed uninterested in the chocolates, and for a majority of the ride, Greg sat quietly, lost in his thoughts. Part of him was afraid to speak - worried that he might spoil the surprise. Ruin the whole plan just as he was nearing the finish line. Another part of him was trying to savor the moment. Anticipate that second she recognized the trap closing on her. The shock, and the fear, and then finally, the understanding of his strength. She would be the first person to ever really know how strong he is. To ever know what he was really capable of. His heart fluttered at the thought, and he felt himself stirring restlessly. But he said nothing, instead staring out of the windshield through the driving rain, listening as the windshield wipers groaned rhythmically.
Nadya watched out the window into the car, eying the lights of Dorney Park, and the spotted towns along the way. The only noise she made was a soft chuckle at the large billboard for sheepskin clothing. When they turned off of 78, she looked at him. Greg could feel her eyes on his cheek. He smiled, keeping his eyes on the road. “We’re close, now. Almost home.” He felt her smile back at him. Heard it, almost.
They drove over a few rolling hills, the first few bumps heralding of the Appalachians, and soon they were at Greg’s home. Electric lights blazed out like beacons in the darkness. Greg felt like his skin was crawling. Like it was too tight, and slowly drawing tighter across his chest and face. He was on the home stretch. Just get her inside…
They sat in the car and waited for the garage door to raise. It was so slow. An agonizing crawl up.
Greg’s heart pounded.
Nadya said nothing, her face glued to the window.
They inched into the garage and stopped.
His mouth was dry. He licked his lips. “Welcome home.”
The garage door was closing behind him. Sealing them in. Sealing her in.
Nadya turned and looked at him. Her eyes glinted in the dim garage light. She smiled.
Something wasn’t right. Something in the pit of his stomach was whispering to him. “Escape!”
He took the keys out, and moved to open the door.
Her hand was on his arm.
It was freezing.
He looked back, and her eyes glittered. She was so beautiful.
Intoxicating.
He pulled his arm, but she held him tight. She was stronger than he thought.
The whisper in his stomach turned into a scream.
She was upon him in a second.
***
Greg awoke slowly. His head throbbed and his eyes were blurry. He realized he was standing. He tugged at the bindings holding his arms and legs, then groaned as the dimly lit world around him slowly came into focus. It was his basement.
Nadya stood next to him, appraising him. “Look who finally woke up,” she whispered. “I was afraid I was too rough with you.”
Greg looked at her, blinking the fog out of his eyes. His brain was having trouble communicating with his mouth, but with a bit of work, he managed to mumble something that sounded a bit like a question.
She hushed him, stroking his cheek. “Shhh, that’s alright, Darling. Don’t strain yourself.” He realized her accent was gone. Thrown away like a mask. Greg groaned again and tried to twist away from her touch. She removed the hand from his cheek, and let it roam over his body as she circled around him, like a vulture about a corpse. “You know, I’ve been looking for you for a while.” In his panic, Greg sensed every detail. His nerves were raw with fear. Adrenaline drawing the moment out into an eternity. “Not you, personally, but somebody like you.” She stopped in front of him and looked at him, smiling coldly. All of the warmth in her face was gone. She was vicious, like a shark. “It was never personal. Just, nature.”
“Please. Please, just let me go,” he blubbered. Spittle trailed down his chin.
“Oh, Greg,” she whispered, grasping his hair and lifting his head. “You know I can’t do that.” She leaned in close, her lips just brushing against his neck. Tickling. “What’s the point of a hunt without a kill?” He felt a shudder pass through him. Fear. Despair. Thrill. Some mixture of them all. A sudden, sharp pain made him whimper. It was almost pleasant as her teeth sank into him. As his jugular gushed like a river. A delicious pain.
After what felt like an eternity, she pulled away from his neck. Her mouth was red, her breath like iron. She leaned in close, locking eyes with Greg. He could see his reflection in those bottomless, empty orbs. They were black. An abyss.
“Please,” he whispered. His mouth was so dry. “Please.”
She smiled back at him, then turned and began walking up the basement stairs. Greg struggled in his bindings, pulling as hard as he could. They held. He knew they’d hold. He’d made sure they’d hold. She paused at the top of the stairwell and looked back. The light from above silhouetted her there. She was a shadow, except for a twinkling from her eyes. They shone, even in the darkness. “The last man I had like this lasted two weeks.” She shut the door.