Friday, 22 October 2021.

8:46 PM.

He had a smile slashed across his face as he pursued her through the dark woods under the ever-watchful eyes of the glistening moon. It was a cold night, a lucid moon sang to earth, heaven's eyes glimmered in the black. It wasn't much of a pursuit. It would have been if she knew she was being trailed.

Then she would run, her legs wobbly with fear. Her hands would be cold and clammy while her heart thrashed in her chest, searching for a way out of its confines. Those heart palpitations, the kick of adrenaline. Her face would be overtaken by terror. The kind of terror that towered both physical and emotional anguish in the desire for safety. She would run so fast, so hard with all her energy. A run towards the arms of dear life, hoping there would be an escape. Though there would be none. Her fight, the little hope, all that work would be for nothing in the end.

But in this event, she was oblivious. He operated differently. He preferred the silent pursuit, no sweat wasted. To him, the chase was the boring part. It was the slaying he sought after. And so he followed her quietly as she sauntered through the woods with no care in the world.

The fact that she didn't know she was being followed gave him the motivation to continue his pursuit, his Cheshire grin unmistakable. There was something about his prey being vulnerable that fed him with exuberance. It felt as if he was on one of the good stuff—marijuana, cocaine, or whatever drug people were into these days. In such situations, he could swear he was a god.

He saw them.

He knew them.

He knew how they would end up.

Dead.

He was used to the face they made when they heaved their last breath. Everyone he had killed had the same countenance. A bit of surprise, some kind of disbelief (this is some kind of dream, they must be thinking). Then a dash of misery and despair, the helplessness and hopelessness. And you never miss the look of regret, of the reminiscence, when they were certain of the uncertainty that they were never making it alive. Oh, the people they'd miss. Those they'd be hurting with their untimely demise. Oh, how they would be mourned!

He knew it all.

He had seen them countless times.

In all those times, the victims had no idea what was about to befall them. They never do. And it was that leverage he wielded over them that made him feel like God, an omniscient. He knew their fate.

To be fair, he decided their fate.

He followed her stealthily without giving out any hint. Even at that, when a twig twitched or a dead leaf rustled, she turned once or twice to see if someone was following her. Some sort of reflex action. Or perhaps she felt his presence.

She felt death looming in on her. Maybe she should have trusted her instincts and sought a way out. A way to lose the imaginary person she felt was trailing her. But she didn't. She reckoned she was being paranoid. The path she used was the least travelled. Granted. It was a bit late in the night. Also granted. That didn't mean someone was lurking in the dark, waiting to pounce on her, to have their way with her and kill her. All that was some nonsense her paranoid mother had cooked up in her head. She knew better. She concluded.

He eventually caught up with her and hit her in the head with something. He stood there, watching. He watched her fall to the ground with a loud thump. He watched her when she attempted to get up but couldn't.

Bang!

He hit her again and didn't stop until he was certain she was totally knocked out. He tied her hands and legs together and carried her up on his shoulders. He walked towards his hut, where he did his surgical procedure.

She woke up with a start.

Her heart thumped around, her breathing unsteady. Her head ached too much. Her body ached too much. It seemed that every part of her hurt, but not as much as her head. She groaned moving her head to reveal an open gush at the back of her head where he had hit. The wound was fresh and still oozed blood, dark red and thick. She kept her eyes closed, not because she didn't want to see where she was, but she thought it would hurt too much to open them.

Gradually, she plied them open. The entire backside of her head hurt so bad she could hardly negotiate the landscape that strobed in and out of focus all around her.

Where was she? Was she in a room? Are those trees she saw? Is there a man there with her?

It took a while before her vision got clearer. Yet she couldn't make sense of her surroundings and how she had gotten there. Slowly, her sense initiated reports back to her brain.

She remembered.

Someone had attacked her earlier. She recalled being hit in the head. She recalled falling to the ground. She remembered being hit again when she tried to get up before everything went dark, depthless dark. The realization didn't make her feel any better. Fear gripped her by the throat. She screamed but her voice was muffled by the cloth that gagged her mouth. She moved, jerking front and back, side to side. But all attempts to break free from the ropes she had been tied with proved impossible.

While she was busy trying to free herself, he was arranging his tools—scissors, surgical blades, knives and scalpels. He moved them from a bag he held, one after the other, slowly, not bothering about time.

It was as if he had the assurance that time had stopped for him. That there was no way anyone could find him out or interrupt him.

Done, he walked to her, wearing his usual smile, unnerving. She tried to say something but it came out as a muffle. It could have been a threat or a plea. The sounds got louder as he lowered himself in front of her, taking in all her beauty concealed by fear, masked by terror, disguised by blood.

She was beautiful.

The kind of beauty that was raw yet sharp. The kind of beauty that left jaws ajar for minutes when seen. The corners of his lips curved into another smile as he thought of himself as a good hunter.

She was quite a catch!

He got aroused by the thought. His penis throbbed in his pants. The smile hadn't disappeared from his face as he got closer and closer to her, running his fingers over her body—from her thighs to her arms to her face.

She trembled at his touch. She tried to move back, away from him but she couldn't move. Every jostle sent surges of pain through her head, back and neck.

He watched her, watched her get drowned by her own dread. His eyes were cold and lifeless as he stared at her.

"You have no idea who I am, do you?" he asked.

There was another muffle from her.

"Well, too bad. It seems you will find out soon."

He pushed her to the ground with great strength. She made a low growl as her head hit the floor. Her eyes reddened before the tears slipped through them. He stood over her, towering over the little light that seeped through the little window to the room. He ripped her dress apart revealing her naked form. He unbuckled his belt, pushed down his trousers and slept beside her on the ground.

She caught on. She knew what he wanted to do. She wanted to fight but she was powerless.

He knew that and fed on it. He moved her hands across her body, caressing her, calming her quivering body.

"Shhh..." he said, moving his hand to her mouth. He left his hand there for a while until he felt she was calm.

Then pounced on her.