Stories

The Spirit Within

A man's leather-clad hand clamped over Lisa Carrington's mouth. Her resulting scream was silenced to everyone's ears but her own. She clawed futilely at her assailant's arm. He laughed.

"Go on, sweetheart. Struggle all you want. It's more fun that way." He dragged her into the vacant alley behind the old sewing factory.

Panicked, his vice-like grip digging into her flesh, Lisa reached behind her and dug her fingernails into his face. Her attacker howled when she drew blood.

"You'll regret that, bitch," he growled in her ear as he stuck the point of a long, shiny knife to her throat. The blood in her veins ran cold as the blade pierced her skin.

Oh God! I'm going to die!

She thought of her precious three-year-old daughter Olivia, at home with her grandmother. Would she get to see her grow up? Walk down the aisle? Have children of her own?

This can't be happening. I can't die, I have too much to live for.

The attacker let go of her mouth and shoved her up against the hard, cold brick wall. She felt the cartilage in her nose crunch. Blood seeped into her mouth, garbling her scream. The assailant pressed his rounded girth into her back, squashing her against the rough concrete. She reached behind her, trying to grab any part of him that might make him let her go. He only tightened his hold on her. The day from hell flashed before her eyes. She'd been late for an appointment, had a flat tire, and then, getting home early to find her husband, Jim, in their bed with his secretary. In the end, she'd asked for a divorce.

And now this. She was going to die.

Not if I can help it.

Tears of desperation ran down her face. "Listen, mister, I have a little girl that needs me. Please, just take what you want and let me go."

His sinister laugh filled the empty lot. "I want your life."

For the first time in her life, she truly understood the meaning of the word terror. "No!"

The sharp pinprick from the tip of his knife felt like a bee sting at first, then he slowly plunged it deep into her lower back. A burning pain wrapped around her midsection.

Oh my God. I'm never going to get out of this.

Pulling the weapon back out, wiggling it side-to-side as he went, the attacker asked, "Doesn't that feel good, baby? How about another one?" His hot, rancid breath on her neck made her stomach revolt.

She swallowed to keep from throwing up. Her body spasmed with each cry. "Please. Don't do this. I'll do anything."

He laughed as if he got pleasure from her begging for her life. "There's nothing you can do that can stop me. I'm being paid too well to stop now."

Paid? She didn't get a chance to ponder that question further. Her assailant rammed the blade into her back again and again, grunting with pleasure as each stroke sliced through her tender skin.

Her warm blood streamed down her legs, pooling on the ground at her feet. Just when she didn't think the assault would ever stop, a piercing scream rent the air. Her attacker halted his movement, cursing under his breath.

She managed to squeak out "help" before her legs gave way, sending her sprawling onto the ground. Her face landed in her own blood, the coppery smell surrounding her. She saw a pair of high-heeled shoes run around the corner as a pair of booted feet gave chase.

Mommy loves you, Olivia.

The world went dark. Memories of her precious daughter flitted through Lisa's mind as her life slipped away.

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