Song: Miss Murder by AFI

"Sex is one of my downfalls. I get sex any way I can get it. If I have to force somebody to do it, I do...I rape them; I've done that. I've killed animals to have sex with them, and I've had sex while they were alive."—Henry Lee Lucas

Two hours later, she still hadn't fully woken up. She had been in and out of consciousness; it's not like I gave her above the normal dosage of sodium thiopental.

I couldn't sit there waiting for her to wake up, so I went upstairs to work on my graphics.

Thirty minutes later, I went to check on her. "Ah, I see you are awake," I said as I entered the basement. The chain rattled as she yanked it while her eyes scanned the room.

"What did you do to me?" she asked.

I stood in front of her. "Nothing serious. I gave you something to put you to sleep. It seemed like you need your beauty sleep." I ran my fingers down her face.

"Then why am I chained to this f*****g pole?" She yanked the chain again.

"I didn't want you roaming around the house." I paused. "You don't seem scared, why?"

"Because, I have met guys like you. Guys that are into BDSM," she said.

I laughed so hard, I had to place my hands on my knees to support myself. "Tsk tsk...sweetheart, you wound me," I said placing my hands on my chest.

She tilted her heads to the side and squinted. "I don't understand."

"In all my years on earth, I haven't felt more insulted. BDSM are for boys. You want to know why?"

She kept quiet but stared at me.

"I'll tell you why, anyway. Because they are too scared to go after what they truly desire," I said as I walked around the room.

"And what is it they truly desire?" she asked.

"Good question. The satisfaction of watching some suffer and die by your hands," I replied.

Her muscles became rigid.

"You didn't think I brought you over for sex, right?" I asked.

She opened her mouth, and then closed it. She couldn't form any words.

"Sex doesn't give me much satisfaction. I rather torture someone and watch them suffer then die."

"What?" she said, her voice shaky.

I walked up to her and stood in front of her. She backed away and swallowed twice.

"Don't tell me you are suddenly scared? The fun has not even started. Well, I am not in a hurry. We have all night." I smirked.

"Why do I always pick the crazy ones?" she said in a low voice but I heard anyway.

I laughed inwardly. "You are asking the wrong question. The question you should be asking is, why are the crazy ones always attracted to you? My mother was just like you. Always choosing men that were useless. They would abuse her, finish her money, and the only thing she did was take out her anger on me."

She kept her head low, not saying anything.

"Anyway, enough about me. Now to foreplay. Don't worry, my kind of foreplay is just questions and answers. Maybe if you answer truthfully, I might decide not to kill you," I said.

Her head shot up and she nodded.

I rubbed my palms together. "Let the games begin."

A chair was at the other end of the room, so I went and carried it. I placed it in front of her. "Now for the first question, where is your son?"

"He is with my mother," she said quickly. Hmm, she seemed so eager to answer.

"Good, at least he has someone to stay with if I end up killing you."

She shivered. Tears pooled in her eyes, but she didn't let them fall. She tried to be brave.

If she keeps this up, I might let her go.

"Where is his father?"

"Dead."

"How?"

"He was a marine. He died in Iraq." Now I feel bad for her. I know how losing a loved one changes a person.

"When?"

"Four years ago, just before my son was born."

"Were you guys married?"

"Yes, high school sweethearts." She smiled.

"So, what happened after he died?"

She became still for a minute, I shook her but she wouldn't snap out of it. The first tear broke free, and then the rest burst out like water from a dam, spilling down her face. Her body shook vehemently.

The sight was too emotional to watch. My heart ached for her. Without realizing it, I hugged her. Tears fell from her face, drenching my shirt.

She bawled her eyes out for ten minutes. Then it gradually reduced to whimpering. Suddenly, she was quiet. I checked and saw she was asleep.

It took forty-five minutes for her to wake up. "Sorry you had to see that," she said.

"It's okay. So, where were we?"

She froze.

"Don't you want us to get this over with? That way we would know your fate."

She quickly nodded her head.

"I asked you what happened after he died?"

"I completely broke down; I guess I wasn't ready to move on so I slept around. I chose men that wouldn't remind me of him."

"What would you do if I let you go?"

"I would go home and forget this ever happened. I will change."

"Why should I believe you? It's too risky. You know where I leave."

"Please, I promise. I won't say anything."

"I don't believe you. If I had another choice I would let you go because I like you," I said as I stood up and walked over to the table.

On the table was a plastic bag, I carried it over to her. "In this bag is the Wolf spider."

She moved away from me.

"Don't worry, its venom is not deadly."

"Please, take that away from me," she begged.

"And why should I listen to you," I asked as I removed one from the bag.

"I am allergic."

"Oh! Sweet! That makes it more fun."

"Please..."

"Just one."

She shook her head.

"You are no fun... Thank God I don't care about your opinion," I said as I placed it on her.

She etched away. She flung her leg in an attempt to remove it, but it wouldn't move. Her heart rate increased. She screamed. She wailed.

"Please... get it off." She cried.

I added two more.

She screamed so hard, I had to cover my ears.

"Dammit! Do you want to burst my eardrums?" I yelled at her.

She continued crying and tried to fling the spiders away. One fell off. Suddenly, her face became red and bloated. Red spots appeared all over her body.

"Please... it bit me. Do something," she said with a shaky voice while scratching her leg.

"Sorry, but I'm out of antivenin."

She screamed again. She tried scratching her arms but she couldn't because her hands were chained together with her legs. Her legs also became bloated. She was scratching every part of her body her hands could reach.

It was fun to watch.

My skin tingled in excitement.

I felt like jumping up and down and doing the victory dance.

She reacted the way I wanted her to.

"Please..." She cried.

Her hands were wrapped around herself as she rocked from side to side. Her makeup was smeared by her tears, her eyes puffy. Shoulders sagged; she looked ready to give up.

"Kill me already. It's obvious you are not letting me go," she whimpered.

With pleasure.

I placed the plastic bag containing the spiders around her head. She tried to claw at her face, but her chained hands wouldn't let her. She screamed, but the plastic bag held the sound captive. It only vibrated.

Her body shook aggressively. I held on tight until her shaking stopped and her body slumped.

She was finally free. As free as a bird.

"I was born with the devil in me. I could not help the fact that I was a murderer, no more than the poet can help the inspiration to sing...I was born with the evil one standing as my sponsor beside the bed where I was ushered into the world, and he has been with me since."—H. H. Holmes

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