First Page: THE STONE KILLER – Paranormal romantic suspense
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Note from Jane: This is a violent scene. Possibly triggering.
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He breathed in great ragged gulps of air as the sweat rolled down his face and back, soiling the white T-shirt and waistband of his jeans. They had been fresh and clean just ten minutes before. Ten minutes! He marveled at how little time it had taken to end the woman’s life. The planning and anticipation over the past two weeks had kept him riding a high almost as intoxicating as drugs or booze, but better.
After stripping her down to her gaudy underwear, he had securely tied the bitch spread eagle with ropes run through strong steel pitons. A heavy leather strap held her head in place so she couldn’t move. She wouldn’t have been able to move much anyway, the drugs would have made sure of that.
He could tell by her eyes that she was awake, fully aware of what was going on and would feel everything. The blows he would deliver with his own two hands. The stones were round just like a baseball, but heavier and rougher. It was not the weight, but the speed that did the job. And he could throw a baseball at 85 miles an hour. His baseball days had been an unfulfilled dream, but even after all these years, he still had the touch.
He threw the first stone. When it struck the targeted knee, shock widened her eyes, and a quiver ran up and down his body. With the next blow to the other knee the excruciating pain rolled her eyes up into her head. His insides grew hot with excitement and sweat formed on his upper lip. He savored her attempt to scream when he shattered first the right and then the left elbow. The destruction of the left shoulder closed her eyes, indicating she had passed out. He threw a bucked of water in her face. Her eyes flew open and her features contorted in agony. His blood lust intensified. The destruction of her right shoulder expanded the terror and filled her mind to bursting with the knowledge of her impending death. His heated excitement continued to grow as he delivered the coup de grace, the final blow to the head that smashed her brain to gray mush.
At that pivotal moment when the stone struck the right side of her face and the spark of life left her eyes, it filled him with an overwhelming wave of heat that dropped him to his knees. He delighted in the waves of ecstasy washing over him again and again until it faded. But the exhilaration was too short lived. Now, she hung lifeless on the close fitting wooden beams that formed a large X. The structure was attached to the end of the basement wall for just this purpose.
He stood and turned to stare into the deep shadows at the opposite end of the room, feeling the anticipation beginning to rise again. It surprised him that it was starting so soon, but he welcomed it, knowing he had to control that feeling. Acting too quickly would spoil all his plans. He had to let this need simmer and come to a boil, releasing it only when it was time.
It didn’t matter that it was a woman, but the act itself that sent his heart pounding and the blood roaring through his veins. He had never felt so alive. The exhilaration made him feel empowered as God over life and death. Even now, the shadows hid the form of his next subject, all bound, gagged and immobilized. He would force himself to wait another day. The anticipation would heighten his senses and appreciation. So, reluctantly, he turned back to the lifeless body held upright by the ropes. Now, all he had to do was hose the bitch down and get rid of her.
He was thankful he had purchased this house, one of several old two-story homes on Wood Avenue, with a private driveway. Its basement was a long windowless room running the width and half the depth of the house. The only lights were an overhead bulb and the two spotlights he had clipped to the ceiling beams closest to the woman. The overhead light was off keeping him hidden in the shadows and the woman blinded by the spotlights. He didn’t care if she had been able to see him or recognize his face; her fate had been sealed for some time. The end with the cross beams had concrete walls and a floor that sloped a little to a drain set down in the cement just past the midway point. The other end of the room’s floor was still packed dirt where coal had been stored for the furnace. The chute opening had been walled up long ago, but the dirt floor remained. It had been a great convenience.