He’d been sawing on her abdomen like a sadistic carpenter for what seemed like hours. As she lay on the table, motionless, afraid to move or make a sound, he dumped the acidic liquid over the bloody slash in her gut. It would’ve scorched her pale, tender skin if she hadn’t gone numb from the waist down several hours ago. What the hell was that? Vinegar?
She’d always been a conscientious person; treated people the way she’d want to be treated, got a college education, paid her taxes. She would never understand what she had done to deserve this outcome. As she’d busied herself with cleaning her apartment and finishing her dissertation on the failings of modern feminism in America earlier that afternoon, she had the feeling that someone was observing her. Someone she couldn’t see, but who was definitely about to make himself known to her world. This sixth sense had been with her since childhood and it was never wrong.
The deadly blow to her belly came almost immediately after the aura; she never would have seen him coming, there had been no time. As she called for help and tried to crawl across the room, it had all gone dark when her head hit the floor. …