The Cosmopolitan

         Melissa sipped on her Cosmopolitan with the frilly umbrella the bartender knows she loathes.  The same graying man sat down next to her, "can I buy you another?"  His hand rested on her knee.

         "Sure, but I'm still not single," she giggled.  They talked for hours about their jobs and how much Melissa hated her boss.  He hung on her every word and gesture.  To him she was fabulous and he wanted to know everything about her.  Melissa loved the attention he gave her.  This stranger who bought her drinks every now and again and complemented her; took her side on stories she'd tell.  Melissa ate it up.

         After a few more drinks, his hands would creep back onto her knee.  Sometimes they found themselves on her thigh, inching closer, attempting to sneak under her skirt.  Sometimes she wouldn't notice.  And sometimes she'd pretend not to.  She was attracted to him, that wasn't the issue.  "I told you," she slid his hand down her thigh and off her knee, "I'm taken."  She wasn't.  Melissa had been single since her boyfriend of three years left her for her brother last year; and since her boss ended the affair last month...

         Melissa walked home alone; slightly tipsier than she anticipated she'd be when she set out to the bar.  Melissa felt her way up the staircase to her third floor apartment and opened her door.  She took a deep breath in and plopped on the couch.  She picked up the remote and flipped through the soft-core porn on the channels.  "This'll work," she said to herself.













         Same bar and the same graying man sat down next to Melissa.  "A Cosmo for the lady," he touched her shoulder.  Melissa smiled and they began their conversation again, picking up from where they left the night before.  She loved how he hung on her every word, how much he remembered from their long talks at the bar despite the copious amounts of alcohol they both seemed to drink.

         Weeks passed and this man began to be someone Melissa sought out nightly.  They would talk and he would fondle her above the clothes and she would go home and finish off the night alone.  After work, she was running late to the bar and when she had arrived, another woman was in her spot, sitting right next to the graying man.  Her stomach sank and she sat at the opposite end of the bar.  "The usual, please," Melissa slid her credit card across the hardwood bar top.

         "This seat taken?"  He sat down next to her.

         "Oh, I thought you had made a new friend," Melissa smiled and nodded towards the blonde down the bar.

         "Not my type," he squeezed her knee.  "I got you a drink, a Cosmo," he set the drink down on the napkin in front of her.

         "Thank you," she sipped and smiled at this handsome stranger that she had seen for the past several weeks.

         The night moved slowly on for Melissa and she drank far more than she thought she would, again.  Having moved to the back of the bar in a corner spot, they drank drink after drink, and for a change of routine, shot after shot, the graying man fed her alcohol.  She felt his lips press against hers and his hand slid up her inner thigh.  Despite herself she let out a moan and her eyes rolled back.

         Her eyes opened and her head was flooded.  She tried to stretch and felt her wrists tighten at her back.  Melissa tried to focus on any source of light or any sound and her head spun.  She moved her legs slightly and felt rope dig into her ankles.  He skirt was slit up both sides and she could feel her panties were missing, along with her shoes.  Her breathing quickened and her head pounded from the alcohol.

         'Focus, Melissa,' she thought to herself.  She tried to speak but her lips were bound shut by duct tape.  She closed her eyes again and focused on the sounds.  Humming from tires.  She was in a car.  By the lack of light, Melissa decided she was in the trunk and they were driving somewhere, fast too.  She opened her eyes again and she tried to find any source of light.  The rope dug into her wrists and ankles as she rolled around in the trunk.

         A dim green glow of the emergency release lever was right behind her on the ceiling.  Her legs scooted her towards the lever and she attempted to reach it with her fingers.  She was too far away, she couldn't reach it and the attempts were killing her shoulders.  She began to panic, her breathing quickened, and her heart pounded in her chest.  Tears started streaking her cheeks and pooled in the crease of the duct tape.

         She stuck out her tongue and began probing the tape in an attempt to release it from her mouth.  As she was doing this, her wrists twisted and turned, trying to loosen the ropes.  Her mind raced with thoughts of what he did to her.  Her skin crawled and her stomach turned.  She wanted to throw up but knew that she'd only have to swallow that pain back down.  She kept at her freedom attempts when the car made a sudden shift and they were now driving on gravel, she could hear and feel the difference.

         The car stopped and the door slammed shut.  She braced herself for what was coming next.  This time she would be awake and this time she would have to see and feel everything that was about to happen.  Footsteps crunched the gravel beneath them and she heard the key slide into the trunk's lock.  The trunk door swung open and the graying man stood above her smirking.  "Good, you're awake."

         His voice was different than she remembered.  It was more rough, more aggressive, angry.  His hands gripped around her waist and she struggled as much as she could.  He lifted her out of the trunk and dropped her onto the gravel, her shoulders and hips taking the brunt of the fall.  Melissa rolled onto her back and looked up at him; her eyes spilling over with fear.  His eyes burned into her as he looked her over, licking his lips with lust.  He leaned over and grabbed the long piece of rope that was tied around her ankles.  He tugged firmly and began dragging Melissa across the loose gravel.

         Her skirt and shirt were bunching up and the gravel was leaving strawberry gashes all over her back and thighs.  She was sobbing heavily and her tears mixed with her tongue still probing the tape loosened it enough, finally.  A corner of the tape lifted and she was able to talk, "please, stop.  Why are you doing this?"

         He ignored her and continued the short trek to the barn; throwing open the doors he turned to her once more and smiled.  He lifted her up by the waist and threw her over his shoulder.  Her face rested against his back, and she could hear his heart pounding even through his thick jacket.  He placed the loop of the rope that was around her ankles on a meat hook and let her drop.  Her body jerked back and forth a few times and her head grazed the ground slightly.

         The blood began rushing to her head and she felt dizzy.  He moved towards her and pulled a hunting knife out from his breast pocket.  "I've told you I loved to go fishing right?  Did I ever tell you why?"  He let the tip of the knife slightly graze the skin of her thigh; all the way down, then across and back up the other thigh.  He bit his bottom lip and tilted his head, "I loved filleting the fish.  There's something so relaxing about skinning something.  Ever done it?"

         "Why are you doing this?"

         He lashed at her thigh with the tip of the knife and small drops of blood seeped out, "that's not an answer, bitch."  He leaned down and pressed the tape back to her mouth, "it works better if you don't talk anyway."

         He left her hanging there for a few more minutes while he walked to the back of the barn.  A table of metal things glistened in the dim light that hung above her.  Thoughts raced through her mind of how to get out of this situation but she was coming up short.  Melissa had no idea how to save herself.  She was going to die, and she wasn't ready for that.  She squirmed and the hook shook against the metal beam.  "Now, now, no need for that.  I'll let you down soon enough.  Just have to let the blood pool a bit.  It makes it easier," he grabbed a chair and sat down in front of her.  He leaned in towards her stomach and breathed in deeply, "I love that smell.  You see, what I'm going to do, is make a few cuts here and there," he pointed to different parts of her body, "and then, I'll take you down once you've passed out due to the head rush or pain.  Whichever, either's fine for me.  Then, I'll give you exactly what you deserve.  Then when you wake up again, I'll put you back on the hook, and start all over.  It sounds fun, right?"

         Whimpers escaped through the tape and she felt the gashes form on her body.  First on her thighs, closest to her crotch, then on her stomach, followed by her arms and neck.  She felt woozy and lightheaded and the room began to spin.  "Wow, so soon?"  He lashed at her stomach and went deeper this time.  Blood flowed from the wound and pooled in her throat, slowly dripping out.  Her eyes rolled back and she felt herself succumb to the darkness.

         Melissa woke up mid thrust and felt the hay poke the back of her thighs, in the open wounds the gravel had made.  She forced her eyes shut and tried to pass out again.  She felt the pain throughout her entire body and she felt the vomit inch its way to her throat.  She turned her head to the side and let the vomit release over the hay.  Her head dropped down and she closed her eyes, praying for him to finish soon.

         She thought that she must have passed out due to blood loss or pain because she didn't remember getting put back on the hook.  He was at the back of the barn again, looking through different metal things.  She didn't know how many times this had happened, but each time she woke up, new cuts ached.  The barn was constantly dark and she had no idea how long she'd been gone.  It felt like she had only just arrived here but also that she'd been with this man for years.  Her entire body ached and each time he lifted her onto the hook she passed out quickly, her body shutting down from the constant abuse.  Each time she awoke during the hay scene she forced her eyes shut again.  Hoping she'd forget about him tearing her apart, ripping her soul with his hands and devouring her flesh with his hate.

The clinking echoed throughout her head and shook her temples furiously.  Her eyes darted open and her world was upside down again.  'Thank God for small favors,' she thought to herself, relieved that he had finished early this time.  She licked her lips, and felt a fresh cut on the corner.  "I don't remember struggling this time," she whispered to herself.  Copper filled her mouth, "please, just kill me," she whispered a bit louder.

         "I'm sorry," he moved towards her and leaned down, brushing her hair, "what was that?"

         "Kill me."

         "Not tonight, sweetie, I've got a headache," he looked her over again and then shook his head.  "This isn't right," he spun her around on the hook.  Her body was bruised badly and the cuts had flecks of dirt and small pieces of hay stuck to them.  "All, fucking wrong!"  He lifted her up off the hook and dropped her into the pile of hay.  "Stay!"  He stormed out the barn and chains clicked together.  Her hands were still tied behind her back, but she shifted to her side and began bending to slip them under her feet.  Her back ached and her torso was covered in deep lacerations.  Fighting through the pain, she managed to get her arms to her front.  For the first time, Melissa had a chance of hope and things began to hurt a bit less.  Her fingers worked over the rope around her ankles.  It took forever and the blood covering the tips of her fingers made things harder for her.

         "Finally!" She shouted as the rope loosened and her ankles broke free.  She stretched her legs out straight and braced herself against the wooden wall with her shoulder.  She rested for a minute, attempting to catch her breath.  Her heart pounded through her chest and she darted towards the table in the back.  All the metal she had seen shimmering from her hook was laid out before her.  Her fingertips glided over every piece until she found the one.  The black hunting knife.

         Her fingers gripped it tight and began cutting through the rope.  She sat on the table's edge and vigorously sawed her way through the rope.  "Fuck," the knife slid through the last bit of twine and she was free.  Finally, Melissa saw freedom just outside the barn house door.