The thin man smiled. He liked it when they screamed. The girl’s face was contorted, terror etching deep furrows into her brow. At this precise moment she could pass for thirty, not sixteen.
‘Nobody to hear you, Samantha. We’re all alone here. I bet your mum always told you never to get into a car with strange men? She was dead right, wasn’t she?’
Samantha stopped screaming and looked at him, her face ashen. ‘You said you’d take me to Miles. Where’s Miles?’
The thin man leaned forward and slapped her face. ‘There is no Miles, you stupid little tart. Just me. You were getting yourself all excited about this lad you’d met in a chat room, good-looking, plenty of money and, best of all, desperate to meet you. Well, sorry to break bad news, but all that was me. That photo you thought was Miles was just some Italian kid I saw on FaceBook. I’m better looking, don’t you think?’
Samantha said nothing, but she’d stopped screaming, listening to him. He liked that.
‘I can untie you now, if you like. It’s not like you’re going anywhere, is it?’
‘Can I have my clothes back?’
‘Oh, I don’t think so,’ The thin man pulled his shirt over his head and placed it carefully on a low rail, then unzipped his trousers and stepped out of them. When he was naked he reached over and untied the cords that held the girl’s ankles to the end of the solid iron frame supporting the double mattress. Her arms were still tied to the top rail of the frame above her head and he checked these bindings, but left them intact. When he climbed on to the mattress, Samantha started screaming again.
You write such wonderful blog posts that I really think you should consider becoming an author.
Good grief, man – I get the message!!
!!!