"Please don't hurt me!" The whimpering voice of a young girl stuttered out.
"I'm going to remind you again. The more you say that, the worse this is going to be for you," spat the hissing voice of a middle aged man.
The young girl was naked and shivering in the cold. The midnight breeze of Penrith raising the hairs all over her body.
"Why are you doing this to me?"
"It's strange when you talk about motives child. Have you ever watched horror movies?"
"Yes...," she chattered.
"Well, do you think half of those had a plot behind them?"
She was too scared to answer.
"Didn't think so!"
She could see his excitement, the sheer emptiness of his eyes. He reached into his black backpack and pulled out a range of cutting instruments. He grinned as the girls eyes widened in horror. She knew what was going to happen next.
"Please, please don't!" Her cries were suddenly drowned out by his laughter.
He got up from his seat and walked towards her, he grabbed her wrists and held them so tight her hands began to turn purple. His breath was warm and smelled of alcohol and tobacco; she knew he'd been drinking. He pressed his chapped lips against hers; she didn't bother to pull away, he was too strong. He then moved his lips near her ear and whispered, "Not even angels like you can be protected from devils like me."
She was silent, her bare body quaking with fear and from the cold. Her long brown hair swayed in the wind. Soon it would be red, blood red. He pulled out rope and tied her to an old wooden chair. Her arms and legs were bound and her chest was strapped so tightly she could barely breath. He picked up a scalpel and opened the abandoned shop's window.
"Now don't you scream!" he said in a quietly demonic voice.
She screamed anyway, praying someone would hear her.