He’d Done This Before
Marissa lay quiet in the darkness, listening to the light rain plinging on the roof. A slight breeze snuck through the window, along with a sliver of light from the full Halloween moon. Thoughts swirled in her mind like the leaves tangling together on the branches of the oak trees in the front yard.
She was still uncertain how she had gotten here, lying in this bed, listening to him breathe. She felt spent and taken, like she had not even participated in what had happened between them. They had known each other for years, been dating for about two, but she had been very careful not to let her guard down. But tonight, for some reason, she had been pulled into it almost against her will. No, that wasn’t true. She had been fully engaged and knew exactly what she was doing. It was, though, like she had no power or desire to stop it.
As her eyes strained in the dim light, she looked at the sparseness of the room. She could make out a dresser against the far wall, a floor lamp, and a nightstand with a clock. And of course, the bed. Like the rest of the house, there were no rugs, no curtains or drapes. The only other furniture in the house, as far as she had seen, was a dining room table with one chair, a couch and overstuffed love seat in the great room, with a library table in the window. An artificial Christmas tree, still decorated, was pushed into the corner with the light string unplugged and wound through several branches. It was, however, the middle of September.
The outside was just as sparse, with ivy choking the house and several trees. No flowers, no landscaping; several dirt patches that had previously been garden spots. Tall, straight trees like sentinels in the front yard, with nothing but grass in the entire back yard. A rusted grill leaned against a twisted glider, void of cushions. Shrubs completely overtook the back sidewalk from the garage to the kitchen door.
In the dozen or so times she had been to his house, she had never been in any other part of the house past the foyer except the great room and the kitchen. There were two bathrooms on the left down the hall, and he was always very adamant that she use the second one. The door to the first – if it was actually a bathroom – was always closed tightly. The office, the other bedrooms – of which there were rumored to be two – as well as the basement family room, laundry and garage, were strictly off limits. Not even to be discussed. She always wondered vaguely why he was so protective of those areas.
But then, he was protective of his personal life, too. She knew the basics, but not much else. He’d been married, had children whom she had met. He didn’t discuss business or finances or world view or religion, and certainly not politics. The last two were a great relief. She did not like to discuss religion or politics herself, unless defending her faith.
Her eyes were adjusted to the darkness now, and she was fully awake. That meant a trip to the bathroom. Marissa eased from the bed and tiptoed to the door.
The wind was fiercer now, and rain pelted the roof like bullets in a shooting range. It was an eerie sound, and the house seemed to embrace it. She stopped in front of the bathroom door, which stood open, and looked back at the bedroom. He was asleep, sprawled across most of the bed, disheveled in the sheets.
Her heart pounded. Maybe, just maybe…
She stepped to the next door, grabbed the knob, and twisted. Slowly she pushed it open and stepped inside.
The first thing she noticed was the stench. It registered in her mind that it was strange that the smell was contained in that one room. She struggled as the bile rose to her throat, and tamped it down with a swallow.
She heard it before she saw it. The flicker of light from concealed torches barely helped; the room was almost pitch black even with the door open. But there was a hissing noise, soft at first, then louder. She glanced slowly around the room. It was a shrine of sorts, with golden statues, jeweled urns, and a marble pool. Her focus stopped at the pool, filled with blood-red liquid. She felt the fear consume her as she stared at the tangled mass in the tub. The biggest snake she had ever seen was coiled around the remains of some sort of flesh. The beady eyes of the snake glowed as though powered from within. The forked tongue flicked in and out quickly between the long, razor-like teeth.
Marissa stared, horridly fascinated, as the creature slowly unwound from whatever it constricted, splashing blood from the pool as it swished. Surely it wasn’t, it wouldn’t…
She stood rooted to the floor, watching. The snake did not take its glowing eyes off her, holding her mentally captive. For some reason she could not move, could not even step backwards.
Before any more thoughts would process, she felt him against her. He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her against him. He whispered in her ear.
“You just can’t leave things alone, can you, Marissa? Well, this time, you’ve stepped into it. I was hoping to have more time, to mold you into perfection.” He laughed maliciously, caressing her, possessing her. “But how can you improve on what is already perfect? The gods will be pleased, dearest.”
His grip tightened, like a vise, pinning her close; she could not even turn around. His breath was on her neck. She felt his teeth nibble at her throat, increasing in intensity. Struggling, she pulled away and twisted her head to peer over his shoulder.
Doors creaked open from all over the house, and the hallway was filled with figures, dressed in black hooded cloaks like monks. The chant started low and rumbling and then increased in volume as they began to undulate back and forth. There were snakes of every size and color, rippling around their legs like waves on the shore.
His bite went deep into her flesh as he pulled her closer. Crying in pain, her knees buckled, but he held her up, laughing.
“Oh no. You will stand here and let us enjoy this. It’s not often we get to see the gods actually perform the death ritual. Mostly the victims are dead when we offer them. It appeases them when we kill, you know. But this. This will be perfection. And you, my love, are the perfect sacrifice.”
She felt the snake as it twisted around her ankle, then slithered up her legs. She knew she was screaming, and the bile rose and would not be held back. She trembled from head to toe as she felt the flesh being ripped from her neck, her throat, her face. Blood dripped around her, down her body. The snake constricted, coiling tighter, stealing her breath. She choked, and coughed, and felt as though her chest and skull would explode.
Her head spun, and she felt the blackness creeping over her. He was all that was holding her up. The last thing she felt was the sharp thrust of the blade entering her side, cleanly and perfectly, not even nicking a rib. Almost like he’d done this before.
Her eyes found the bloody pool. Unstaring eyes locked with hers.
Indeed. He’d done this before.