She could tell by the dust filled light streaming bleakly through the cracks of the covered windows that it was daytime. She tried to recall how long she had been sleeping, or was she unconscious? Either way, a throbbing headache that was making her head spin.
She tried to stand up only to feel something grab her leg; it was a thick rope. Her head began to spin even faster as she tried to discern what the hell was going on. It was impossible to do it, not in this state. She slowly lifted a hand to her face and felt the crusted blood on her lips and cheeks. Her heart skipped a beat. She put her fingers in her mouth and felt an empty space where a tooth used to be. Her heart skipped another beat.
She couldn’t see more than two or three feet in front of her face; the light from the windows was too scarce to even be called light. The sound of a heartbeat was all that could be heard, it was her own.
Two floors above, Martin Delart was taking a shower, getting ready to go to work. When he emerged he stopped and stared into the mirror. The scars covering his upper torso were a constant reminder of the pain and torment he’d been through. It’d all be over soon, he thought, and hoped as he ran his fingers over the bumpy flesh on his chest. It happened every morning. He’d stare at himself in the mirror for nearly an hour before something would break his concentration. The phone ringing or the neibourhood kids yelling and screaming as they enjoyed the summer weather. It was becoming a problem.
Martin was an incredibly average man in all aspects. If you were to see him at the grocery store looking at the back of a box of cereal you wouldn’t even think twice. If you saw him walking down the street toward you, you wouldn’t hold your child’s hand any tighter than usual. He was the type of guy you might even want to be friends with, mostly keeping to himself, but speaking up whenever he needed.
Martin worked for a large consulting company in an even larger city. He’d only been working there a few months, but already made a friend or two. He’d often stay late after work, not for any real reason, just because that’s the type of guy he was. He enjoyed putting in some real long hours and then going home and relaxing.
Finally finished shaving, and well dressed, Martin headed out the door and was on his way to work.
Upon arriving he saw the usual scene. The same few people gathered by the proverbial water cooler, talking about whatever small piece of life they enjoyed last night, like the time in between getting home from work and having to go to bed is even worth discussing. At least they did a good job pretending.
He flashed them a genuine, but awkward looking smile as he passed by to his desk. Every single day was more or less the same, Martin was in charge of finances, at a very small level, for a very big company, he only made up a small part of the puzzle, but he always did the best work he could.
Martin sat back in his chair and turned on his severely outdated computer. He cracked his sore knuckles. It was time to work.
Now, Martin was a very smart, decent fellow, aside from the fact that he did not value human life as much as most people. That is, he liked to watch them die.
It all started about 4 months ago, Martin had killed a rather attractive young lady and cut her pretty head clean off of her perfect body. He once read that a human head, when decapitated could still see for a few seconds, so he often smirked and waved goodbye after the deed was done.
The head sat next to the body for a few days before he finally got rid of it. In the middle of the cold winter night he left the pretty head (complete with new makeup) on a fence post at the police station where it was shortly discovered by 65 year old patrolman Walter Newman, Walter was 3 days away from retirement that night, when he suffered a lethal heart attack and a fractured skull from the fall to the pavement.
Since then Martin had dropped off 15 other heads at various locations around the city. Some of them on the doorstep of the victims’ family, some of them on the seats of unlocked cars. All of them had been discovered and reported. Martin was as they say, a serial killer. Everyone knew a killer stalked the streets and every cop in the city was always looking for clues. The only real clueless one, though, seemed to be Martin.
He wasn’t a greedy person; he didn’t want to be known for what he had done. He thought the act of giving back the heads was a sweet gesture to the city and the people who lived in it. There were no bodies, however, Martin liked to keep those. Stacked neatly in a locked concrete room in his basement, they were. Some wrapped in plastic, a select few, never ones, hanging from the roof. A trophy room of sorts, he thought.
She had been wriggling around on the cold floor for what seemed like hours now, desperately trying to break free of the rope that bound her to the wall. It was no use, she began to sob uncontroabbly. Her mind slowly wondered, and then it hit her. Her memory
Out the night before, with friends at a new club enjoying some drinks. She recalled everything, from deciding which outfit to wear, to the drive there, and even what the bouncer looked like. She just couldn’t figure out where she was, or how the fuck she got there. She finally blacked out again, slumping completely to the pavement.
“Lunch time, Marty” someone said, patting Martin on the back while walking by. He spun around in his cheap chair and looked at the clock, and then his watch, and then the clock again. He wasn’t hungry in the least, so he told them he would catch up with them later.
Martin would often do this. Lunchtime was his time. Not to eat, but to think and plan. Sometimes he would just think about whoever happened to be in his basement at the time, and how they got there, and what he was going to do.
In the case of Lilly Cameron, he recalled quite fondly how she had ended up in her current situation.
It had been very early in the morning, around 2:30 AM, he recalled, when he first saw her. All the way across the room sitting at the bar. Alone. Her friends had all left with other friends or men that had just met. That sort of deal, it was the same thing every Friday night.
The bar was about to close when Martin approached her and asked if he could help her to her car. Lilly reluctantly agreed and slipped out of her chair, stumbling towards Martin she put one of her arms around his neck and they walked out the door.
The new couple walked a few steps before Lilly pointed out her car “thanks, I can make it from here” she said, obviously out of it. Martin went on to insist that she call a cab, again, Lilly agreed and walked towards her car.
“I have a phone in here” she said, looking back. When she reached her car and began fumbling about in her purse for her car keys Martin decided to make a move. He removed a small but heavy rubber mallet from his trench coat pocket. He lifted the mallet as close to heaven as he could reach before bringing it down on the top of Lilly’s head with all the force he could. She fell to her knees, but to Martins Surprise she remained upright and turned around slowly. Without so much as a second thought Martin clenched his fist and drove it into her mouth and jaw. Her body fell backward against the car. Lilly Cameron had just enough time to spit her pearly white teeth out before the world as she knew it faded to black.
Martin really enjoyed his commute to and from the office. He would usually pop in a CD and take his time. The city often felt so alive to him, a part of his life. Living in a large city where people always had to be somewhere they weren’t meant that traffic was often slow going. As it was today. While some people hated getting caught in traffic, Martin actually kind of enjoyed it. He would simply unroll the windows and breathe a breath of fresh air. For a man with such patience it was amazing he possessed the strength and brutality he unleashed in private.
Martin gripped the leather wrapped steering wheel of his car tightly as traffic began to flow again. He was almost home.
[“Honey, I’m home!”]
Martin pulled into his driveway and noticed that his lawn looked as though it needed to be watered badly. He made a note of it and continued inside his house.
When most people get home from a hard day of work, they often watch Television or take part in some other activity they enjoy. One could say, that in this aspect, Martin was really no different.
He unlocked the locks on his solid oak basement door and walked down the cold cement steps. Fumbling for a few seconds in the darkness, he finally found and hit the switch on the wall. The room flooded with stale bright light. Lilly began to sob again as she felt the presence of someone in the room.
Smiling at the sight of this beautiful girl tied down tightly to the floor he stepped forward slowly. The blindfold that originally covered her eyes had since been pushed down to her neck, but still Lilly did not open her eyes. She tried several times but the light was too intense to stand.
“my my” Martin said, to nobody in particular. He kneeled down next to the shaking girl and remarked, “you look like hell, you know that?” Lilly could do nothing but continue sobbing.
Martin had said the same thing to a few girls he’d had in the very same situation. They always replied by sobbing uncontrollably. Often Martin would do nothing but verbally taunt the young women for a few days, leaving them in darkness. Sometimes they would make so much noise that he had to kill them quickly and abruptly. This act displeased him immensely, and so he was glad to see that Lilly was the type to be frozen by fear, not enraged.
He knew he was going to have fun with her.
Walking to the other side of the room Martin picked up a large knife from a huge bloodstained wooden table. He began running the blade over a coarse sharpening stone slowly. He did this while looking at Lilly, who still had her eyes closed and her head turned. He smiled and picked up the pace of the sharpening.
It was at this point that Lilly realized what she was hearing. She strained to open her eyes and saw the outline of Martin leaning against the table and sharpening the knife. Squinting, her eyes wondered now, to the wall behind Martin, which held several other tools such as a large wooden mallet complete with hair and skull pieces still caked on. Her eyes began to tear up, so she closed them again as she heard Martin’s footsteps approaching, as if it might protect her, as if he might disappear.
Instead, Martin knelt down beside her and grabbed her by her dirty, bloodstained white tank top. He wanted Lilly to open her eyes, to stare him right in the face, but she didn’t. Instead she went limp with fear. “Please…” is all she could manage before trailing off.
The smile returned to Martin’s face again as he put the knife down her shirt, pushed it out and cut downward to the bottom, and again back to the top, he then pulled it off of her forcefully. Lilly began sobbing uncontrollably now. Martin leaned back and looked the girl over, top to bottom.
To say his bliss was purely sexual would be a lie. The bloodied woman in front of him, wearing only a bra and dirty jeans excited him in a way that sex never had. Martin was not a rapist in that way. No, these were all mind games to him.
Pushing her back now, Martin ran the dull side of the blade gently down her neck toward her chest, pausing a moment, he continued over her breasts and slowly around to her back. Petrified with fear Lilly began to convulse and shake gently, as Martin ran the knife up her spine slowly he marveled in the feeling of power. Knowing he could stop at anytime or go even farther made him feel so alive.
Crying openly now, Lilly began to repeat the word “please” over and over in a low, hushed voice.
“Anything for you” replied Martin in an angry tone, pushing the girl back against the wall as hard as he could.
Lilly simply slumped to the ground and curled up as she cried loudly. Martin watched for a few moments before placing the knife back on the table and shutting off the lights.
As he reached the top of the stairs leading out of the basement, Lilly could see his outline again, by the light coming in from the top floor. It slowly turned to darkness as Martin quietly remarked “goodnight” before slamming the door and locking it tight.
Lilly opened her eyes and waited for them to adjust to the darkness. She tasted blood in her mouth and felt a gash on the right side of her tongue. She swallowed forcefully.
Lilly Cameron was a remarkably strong girl. Both physically and mentally, but it was at this time that the stress of the situation began to break her.
The girl’s mind was swamped with feelings and questions and fears. She thought to herself that she would never see her family again. Christmas was soon and she had already made plans to visit for the holidays. She was to surprise her mother, who thought Lilly was going to be too busy to make the trip.
Tears welled up in her eyes as the mystery of what was going to happen to her punched her right in the stomach, causing her to become lightheaded yet again.
It’s quite strange that during a time like this a human being often replays memories in their head. Good memories for certain, but also bad and regretful ones. It’s almost like a film in which the idea is to cleanse and remind the person of why they are who they are.
While Martin was certainly a smart man, and a hell of a killer, he often made choices, which, as time would tell, had already begun to seal his fate.
Most serial killers often leave clues on purpose. That is, they eventually want to get caught. Perhaps to become known to the public and take credit for the evil deeds they commit.
Martin was the same, but without knowing it. Often lost in the euphoria of a kill he committed he would do very little to cover his tracks.
Mostly, Martin liked to drag his victims down to his basement before doing them in, but sometimes they would not cooperate. Needless to say, Martin saw more than a few people die in a dark alley or in his car.
He once scalped a girl because she was screaming so loudly, pulling pieces of her brain out of her head as he did it. Martin had left the scalp and a large trail of blood before fleeing the scene with the mangled corpse.
And so it was things like this that were to be Martins downfall. He was in it for the fun, and nothing more. If this all ended tomorrow, he’d still have the memories to last him a lifetime, even in hell.
He told himself that everyone gets caught and that some long to be caught. He wasn’t sure that he wanted to be stopped, just that he didn’t care.
As the early morning birds chirped away Martin awoke to an intense burning in his stomach. It was only after violently vomiting twice into the toilet bowl that he decided to call in sick to work.
While making scrambled eggs for breakfast Martin came to the conclusion that perhaps today was the day he would go all the way with the pretty girl in his basement. The thought made him smile as he cracked some pepper onto his eggs.
Unable to stomach his breakfast Martin cheerfully made his way to the basement.
Lilly was sprawled out on the floor, the rope digging cruelly into her ankles and wrists. Martin let forth a sharp whistle but the girl did not move.
Genuinely concerned that perhaps his fun had ended before it even started, Martin knelt down beside Lilly and held her head up, she opened her eyes painfully and slowly. Martin again found himself admiring her beauty, even the way her chapped lips and sleepless eyes looked in the bright light.
She looked like a ghost.
Finally realizing where she was again, she snapped up and backed as far away from Martin as she could. The coarse pavement walls dug into her bare back but she did not notice.
Martin smiled as he stood up and began to busy himself at his toolbox before quietly commenting that today she might get to see heaven.
Lilly remained calm on the outside, but on the inside it was as if all her senses were set ablaze. Her mind was racing with thoughts and questions. Where was her car? Are the police looking for her? Do her parents know she’s even missing? How many days had she been locked in here? Was she really going to die?
Martin turned to her slowly, holding a large electric drill with a crudely spiked drill bit attached. He smirked as he again knelt in front of the terrified girl yet again.
He pushed the trigger and the high-pitched whine made both of their hearts beat at least three times as fast.
Lilly refused to look Martin in the eye. Since the first time she saw him she would do nothing but look at the ground. On any other day Martin would not take offense, but on this day it angered him to no end.
He set the drill down and grabbed Lilly by the chin and slammed her head back, forcing her to look at him.
Tears formed at the sides of her eyes as she tried to find a soul behind the eyes of Martin. She saw nothing but blank and uncaring pale blue. They stared at each other for what seemed like hours before Martin slapped her away with disgust causing her lip to split open.
The sound of the drill started up again and Martin held it close to her face. Lilly could feel the heat coming out of the vents as the adrenaline pumping through her was again making her lightheaded. She tried to calm herself but her nerves were too far-gone. Her eyes began to roll back in their sockets as she closed her eyes and awaited a helpless doom. At this point in time Lilly Thompson ceased to exist in any form. Her body felt severed from her very being and she proceeded to float through space and time.
Childhood memories began to flood her mind. Family vacations with her younger sister and playing tag at the playground during summer, one after another the crept into her consciousness as quickly as they left.
What was left of her felt warm and welcome, as if she had waited her entire life for this moment.
Lilly was in control now. All the good in her life was on display. No pain or sorrow and no lament.
Everything that had made her human was now relieved.
She was lifeless.
Back in the other world Martin Delart was standing over the body of Lilly, blood dripping from his face and onto his white shirt. He admired, for some time, the fact that the drill bit had been long enough to pass through the girl’s neck and stick into the wall behind her.
He kneeled and brushed the hair from Lilly’s vacant eyes before sighing again at the beauty of the situation. Without so much as a blink, Martin flicked the switch on the drill, reversing the rotation and pulling the entire piece of steel cruelly through the gaping wound, causing blood to spurt out once again.
After placing the drill on the large wooden table, Martin dragged the corpse into the storage room amongst a few other rotten, unrecognizable bodies and slammed the door shut.
He thought to himself that the world had just changed slightly, as it did whenever he took a life, and it reminded him that he was everything in this world.
Martin Delart was a god. He was the devil. He was the reaper.
Written by Dan Chubaty. 2005-2006