He saw her at the truck stop just outside of Detroit. She was standing outside the diner, hugging a large green duffel bag, trying to look inconspicuous. He understood the situation instantly. She was a runaway, scoping out the people passing through and trying to decide who was likely to give her a ride. Who was safe.
She definitely wouldn’t pick him. He was a large man, overlarge in some respects, with hands and feet and jaw all out of proportion. His hair was long and shaggy and he had a four or five-day growth of beard that made him look even more unkempt. But he had every intention of leaving with her nonetheless. All he had to do was to get her away from the door. Too many people around, too many chances for him to be seen, and he was too easily remembered once he was. He didn’t want that. He wanted her, and once he’d seen her, he wanted her enough even to let her catch another ride, to follow her on to another stop.
Eventually he’d have his chance.
Marie shifted her bag in her arms and stomped her feet, trying to warm up her toes. When she’d thought about wanting to see snow, back home in Mississippi, she hadn’t thought about standing around in it. She didn’t like the looks of anyone she’d seen going in or out of the diner so far.
I should’ve bought a car, she thought tiredly. That had been the excuse she’d made at the bank when she cleared out her savings account. $1,536 had seemed like a lot of money at the time, but even then she knew it wouldn’t buy her much of a car. And the idea of heading out on the road with no money left—she might have been able to try it if she’d had any goal in sight, any idea of where she was heading, but she didn’t. In the end she’d bought a student Greyhound pass good for three months, and when that ran out, she bought another.
When that had run out, so had her money. She’d made a few dollars here and there doing kitchen work, mostly, but even people who didn’t mind hiring illegal aliens didn’t really want to take on an obvious runaway white girl who couldn’t produce any ID. So eventually she’d turned to hitchhiking; it had been almost two months now. The first time, she’d been terrified, remembering horrible stories her mother had told her of what happened to girls who hitchhiked. But so far she’d been all right—she’d stuck to truck drivers, figuring if they had jobs they were more likely to be decent men, and among them she tried to stick to those who were older, more grandfatherly. So far everyone she’d seen here had been of another type—too young, too mean-looking, driving an SUV instead of a big rig. She imagined they’d give her a ride, but she didn’t want to think about what they’d want in return.
She thought about going into the diner. She still had a little over twenty dollars left; she could get a cup of soup or something and sit at the counter for a while. But for a change, she actually wasn’t hungry right now. Her last ride had given her a decent meal before dropping her off, and she needed to conserve her money. Besides, she wanted to be ready to go if she did managed to scrounge a ride, and when she went into diners late at night there was always a chance that some “responsible” person would start asking questions.
Two men came through the door and she ducked her head to avoid notice; neither one was someone she liked the looks of. One man kept walking, but the other one stopped and stared at her.
“Hey, little lady. You lookin’ for a ride?” The man leaned in close to her and she could smell the beer on his breath.
“No thanks. I’m just waiting for a friend.” It was her standard answer to men she didn’t like.
“Well, you’n’me could be friends, don’tcha think?”
“Please leave me alone.” She hefted her bag up over her shoulder and put a hand on the door. “I’ll just wait inside.”
“No, don’t do that, missy. Let’s you’n’me just talk for a minute.” He put a hand on the door to keep her from opening it and Marie had a moment of panic. She dodged around him and headed towards the gas station across the parking lot. She could see activity there and she might be able to talk to the attendants, who would know the regulars—
The man grabbed her arm and jerked her around. “That ain’t too friendly, girl.” He pulled her in between two parked rigs, pushing her up against one truck. “I just wanted to talk.”
“Let me go.” She jerked her arm out of his hand and tried to push past him.
“What if I just want a little kiss first?” He blocked her.
Bad idea. Really bad idea. “Don’t touch me,” she warned. One good thing about cold weather, no one looked twice if you wore gloves, but now she started to pull one off.
“I ain’t gonna hurt you, girlie. Just gimme one kiss and I’ll give you a lift anywhere you want.” He grabbed for her again and Marie braced herself, bringing her bare hand up to push his face away. She winced at the rush of ugly thoughts and fear that flowed into her, and jerked her hand back as soon as his dropped away. The man staggered, stumbled back and fell. Marie seized her duffel bag and ran down the row of parked trucks. There was another diner across the highway, and right now she didn’t care which direction the road was going, she just wanted to be as far away as she could when someone found the fallen man. Then a dark form hurtled from between two trucks and ran straight into her, knocking her to the ground and leaving her breathless. Before she could think or react at all, the form was on her, pinning her to the ground with her face in the snow, and something tightened around her neck. She tried to scream, couldn’t even gasp for breath. She struggled, clawing at whatever was constricting her throat, until her sight dimmed and her hands fell away. She jerked once more and went limp.
He lifted the unconscious figure as easily as if she’d been a doll and threw it over his shoulder, scooping her fallen bag from the snow as he did so. At the end of the parking lot, in the darkest possible corner, there was a battered black van. He pulled open its rear door.
This was his.
He dumped the unconscious girl onto a mattress that lay on the floor of the van. Moving more quickly that one would think such a large, awkward man could move, he climbed in after her and slammed the doors behind him. His hand went up to flick on a lamp that hung overhead and he knelt over her, taking just a second to breathe in her scent, to feel the blood-lust that pounded through him. As much as he loved the hunt, the thrill of the capture was always better. It brought him what he wanted, what he coveted.
He knew what this one was, and it thrilled him even more. No one was going to be looking for this little outcast. He didn’t have to race to ground with his latest prize, worrying that border patrols and Mounties would be checking suspicious vehicles. He could take his time with this one, stringing out the trip, milking every last bit of her terror. He leaned close to her face, careful not to make direct contact.
“Mutant,” he whispered.
For now, he did have to be quick. He’d been careful with her, releasing the cord from her throat as soon as she’d gone limp, and she’d had the breath knocked out of her when he’d taken her down, so her air had run out quickly. Now she would soon awaken. He reached for her arms and saw one of her gloves still gripped in a small hand. Carefully he lifted that arm, removing the glove from her grasp, and got it back onto her fingers. Holding her there, he stripped her coatsleeve off and finished pulling on the glove; he smoothed the slick fabric up over the exposed skin.
This would be an exciting toy, a dangerous one.
He lifted her hand to the waiting loop of rope and tightened it securely around that wrist, then finished removing her coat and tied her other hand. Her feet were next; he pulled off her boots and quickly fastened to other two loops of rope that were at the ready, already fastened to the bolts in the floor. Then he shortened the slack in the rope; this was always the one uncertain point, how tall his new acquisition would be. Now she lay stretched out before him, helpless, and he knew she was his.
She coughed then and he saw her head move. Instantly he was on top of her, straddling her chest, and he saw her eyes go wide and terrified as she tried to take a breath and scream. He brought the cord down on her throat again at the perfect moment and the scream turned into a strangled cry, barely audible. He saw her become aware of her bonds, saw her fear increase. He leaned forward into her face and she tried to squirm away from him, but there was nowhere to go.
“You’re mine.” She tried to scream again, tried to wrest a hand free, to search for help, but his knots held and her frantic eyes saw nothing except him. “Stupid little mutie—shouldn’t be out by yourself late at night.” He released the cord then and she tried to get a breath, but he had a cotton cloth ready, waiting beside her head, and he jammed it into her mouth so deeply she almost choked. Before she could spit it out, he had the duct tape out and two strips laid across her lips, sealing her mouth. He pressed his hand down on the tape, careful not to touch her skin, enjoying the feel of her chest heaving under him as she tried to keep the cloth out of her throat. Now he could slow down a little and he did, sitting up and watching her increasingly more panicked struggles as he slowly drew his own gloves from his pocket. He pulled them on slowly, making sure she saw them, and then deliberately slapped her hard across one cheek. She went still and he saw tears form in her eyes, begin to trail down those perfect cheeks.
“You better stop blubberin’ right now, mutie. Your nose is all you got to breathe through for the next few hours, and I don’t want you dyin’ on me just yet.” She closed her eyes and made a moaning noise deep in her throat, but the tears stopped. He stroked her cheek, feeling her flinch away from his touch, savoring it. Then he seized a handful of her hair and her eyes opened again. “That’s right. You better look at me when I’m talkin’ to you.” He reached for the blindfold, letting her see it. “I’m gonna put this on you now and then we’re goin’ for a ride. You’ll like that, won’t you? You must love travelin’. We’ll take a little trip together, just you and me.” She shook her head, fighting the gag, fighting his hands ever more furiously as he forced the tight rubber mask over her head, adjusted the foam-rubber padding over her eyes. Even then she didn’t stop, twisting her wrists in the ropes as he eased his way down her body, running his hands over her. She made a furious, strangled sound when he reached her breasts; it was just too bad that he couldn’t feel them better through his leather gloves, but she was firm and lush and he squeezed a little just to feel her jerk with the pain and shock of it.
“Now what’s this? You’re a little overdressed for our trip. We’re real casual here.” He reached into his pocket for his switchblade and flicked it open, then brought the cold steel to the soft flesh of her neck. She stopped moving when the metal touched her throat; he could see the pulse beating rapidly under her skin. “All that pretty skin.” He ran the blade up and down her neck; she still didn’t move. “Too bad it’s dangerous, huh?” Her head twitched then and he knew he’d just taken one of her few remaining hopes away. He leaned in close again. “I’ll be real careful, don’t you worry.” He traced the tip of the blade down her neck, along her chest, not cutting the skin, but leaving a thin red line. “Such sensitive skin. You’re a little princess, aren’t you?” He slid the tip of the knife under her shirt, further down, ignoring her jerks on the ropes that held her hands, until it caught on the tight band where her bra met in the front. He slid the blade under the bridge of material and sawed back and forth, slowly fraying it away. Then the fabric gave and her shoulders tried to hunch together as the garment fell away to either side. He reached for the straps then, slitting them over each shoulder in turn, holding her arms down against the mattress as he did it. “Better hold still there, princess. This knife is pretty sharp. Wouldn’t want to cut you.” The ruined bra, in pieces, came away in his hands as he tugged at it, and this time when he cupped her breasts in his hands they were free under her thin t-shirt. “Now that’s better.” He kneaded the soft flesh, heard the moan he wanted. “You like that, princess?” A furious shake of the head. “You’re gonna like it. I like it.” He reached up to check the ropes at her wrists, assuring himself that her struggles hadn’t loosened his knots, and then got up. “All right. You just lie here nice and comfortable and think about all the fun we’re gonna have together.” He smoothed the duct tape more firmly over her chin one last time before leaving. “You’re mine now, princess. Don’t you forget that.”
He took her coat, boots and bag with him when he left, as well as the lamp. If she managed to get free during this first trip, it wouldn’t much matter. She would still be alone and in the dark, and he would still have her life in his hands.
Oh, god. Please help me. Marie heard the doors slam, and a minute later the engine started. I’m in a car. A van. God, where’s he taking me? She yanked as hard as she could at the ropes holding her wrists, but the loops only seemed to tighten. She felt the vehicle begin to move, slowly at first as he maneuvered through the parking lot, then faster as he picked up speed. We’re on the highway. We could be going anywhere.
She tried for hours. She managed to work the tape from her mouth and spit out the cloth she was gagged with, but she was afraid to scream without knowing someone else was around to hear her. The ropes gave her no slack to work with. She twisted and pulled until she could feel her skin was raw and every joint ached. At last she lay exhausted, tears soaking the tight blindfold that she couldn’t dislodge.
Eventually the van slowed and came to a stop. Marie heard footsteps and then a chain rattled outside the van. Her heart pounded painfully.
She heard the doors open, and she did scream.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
This is the one that started it all, for me. This is a dark story, at least at the outset. There’s violence, and unpleasant implications. Sorry, but it does get better. If the bad stuff squicks you out, I apologize. The last bits are more or less stand-alone and you could just go directly to them if you prefer.