What would YOU do if you had to choose between the life of your untrue lover and the life of a complete stranger, and your decision was watched by millions of your fans LIVE?
NUPTIALS OF DEATH
She couldn't check her blog for hours because her boss kept giving newer and newer tasks by the minute. She felt like as if the pile of papers on her desk would slowly bury her under. Luckily the director - as every single day - locked his door exactly at noon so he can eat his special lunch menu, prepared by his wife, protected from any curious eyes. All employees were guessing what may he be eating, but nobody ever dared to ask.
Anita knew it, but she never told the others. She used the breather to quickly type in her blog address. Before she would've actually pressed Enter, she looked around. She sadly realized that her team leader was heading right towards her. She closed the browser. The man stood behind her, not saying a word, but staring at her screen unconcealed. Anita faked indifference as she turned around:
– Géza, no offence, but the boss asked me to take this report confidentially.
– Really? – he yelped. The employees all rose their heads to the loud word, so he continued somewhat softer: – István never mentioned that you two got into some project together…
Anita typed on silently.
– Should I know about something? – the team lead squatted next to her, as if to win her confidence.
Anita looked over herself then she carefully rearranged her skirt, so he definitely won't see more than what he should.
– If you want to know more, ask him! But if it would concern you the least, he would've already let you know – she turned to him with a mysterious look on her face. He jumped up in anger:
– It can't hurt to remember that I'm your superior.
– Just as István is yours - Anita answered quickly. – And now, if you'll excuse me, I'd like to continue…
The team lead hung around her desk for a few more seconds. He was visibly trying to think as hard as possible to find a riposte, but most likely nothing came to his mind, as he finally left with a long face.
As the man stepped out of the office, Anita's neighbor rolled her task chair around her desk to her.
– Now you really stepped into his soul – she said with honest admiration. – Aren't you scared of revenge?
– He's too much of a coward for that. You know how scared he is from the boss… – Anita pointed at the director's office.
– But he can do something behind István's back…
– Dare he try! – smiled Anita, and clawed the air with her carefully manicured artificial nails. – I'll scratch his eyes out!
– Anita, is the report ready? – the director asked from his doorway.
The women parted. Anita's stomach got an immediate cramp.
– Sure, I'll take it in in just a sec! – she whispered barely audible.
– Now that's top priority, don't let anyone hold you off!
So he was watching Géza interrogating her from behind his blinds.
– Ten minutes and it's there!
– I'll be waiting! – said the man and slammed the door behind himself.
Whilst her fingers ran over the keyboard faster than the wind, she kept thinking what may be the reason that whilst she can deal with most men single-handedly, some make her more scared than an oppressed little girl. And her husband literally hypnotizes her. He forces his will on her with such a strength, she serves him without asking as if she was not his wife but his chambermaid.
She got a sudden headache, just like every other time when she thought of her marriage.
He killed without a soul. He felt no joy, no sympathy, nothing. He imagined himself as an executioner who kills as a profession.
The victim stared at him with fear in his eyes in his last minutes, and tried to jump further away on the chair to which he was tied.
– If you get a new incarnation, in which I don't believe, treat those better who treat you good!
His words sounded like a verdict.
The man finally grasped that that was it. From his taped mouth, a scared gargle came up. Maybe he tried to ask something, or stand up for himself. It didn't matter anymore.
The executioner placed his metallic briefcase on the dirty table and opened the lid with a pleasing slowness. The victim couldn't see the tools inside, but the theatricality of the motion was even scarier than the sight of the torture tools. Just as lace lingerie is a lot more exciting than a naked body.
Suddenly the woman's picture rose in front of the executioner. Her wavy brown hair, her white teeth, her slightly slanting, cat-like green eyes.
The whore doesn't know it's all about her – this filled him with a sense of feel-good.
He hasn't killed in a year, and hasn't been with a woman for so long.
At that time, the TV slut almost cost him, so he retreated. He disappeared from sight, just to be able to plan the Big Meeting, where the hatefully adored woman will die, but from the union a higher level of existence will be born.
Just before they will play a little.
Then he underestimated his opponents, now he knows whom he's facing.
Their suspense grows weaker by the day, whilst every single minute, every one of his thoughts is preparations to the Big Meeting.
Sixteen steps. That's how far ahead he is. And when the time comes, he will tell everything to her, from the very day he has seen her picture online.
He will tell her how he found out everything about her with his computer, how he stalked her, how close she was to death when they met in her stairway.
Then he will tell also how he disappeared for a whole year after that bitch almost lead him into a trap, almost lead him into the hands of the downtown cops
By then she will be bleeding from a thousand wounds, and he will be telling about how he was planning the Big Meeting step by step, for over three hundred days.
Suddenly the man stopped whining.
They looked at each other.
His eyes betrayed the victim's intentions. His instincts lead his gaze onto his freshly freed right hand before he lunged over his captor with the chair. In his fall, his left hand also slid out of the loosened noose.
He managed to pull his executioner to the ground, but he couldn't stop him in grabbing an exacto knife from his metallic case.
The first cut slit the victim's stomach. The executioner jumped back in disgust from the blood. Whilst women's blood heightened the pleasure, men's blood just made him sick.
With the next move, he cut through the victim's throat. The man grabbed the wound and held his neck startled. His eyes popped out more and more, his face went blue. Then he stumbled back and didn't move any longer.
The executioner felt no victory, no sympathy, nothing. This was just the first step.
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