Stockholm Syndrome

First place winner of the Apr-May Picture Prompt Competition.

A strange unknown man, with an obsession with capturing attractive girls find his perfect beauty and documents their 'quality' time together. Disturbing and twisted this is the story of forced love through cruelty.


5. The Break-Up

Months had passed since that day she tried to escape. Throughout our time together she began to trust me more; letting me mend her damaged leg with a makeshift splint, as well as our intimate sponge baths. Over time she got better following commands; calling me sir, wearing whatever I bought her; oh how she loved the clothes I got her. So she started to receive the privileges that I told her she would get if she behaved. Like having a light kept on when I went to work, having a water bowl to drink from, and even getting a litter tray to stop the accidents. I had never even thought of that last one, she truly was special. But like always, pretty things aren't meant to last. 
     That morning I had lifted the cage for her to stretch her legs. She never fought or attacked me so I assumed she was tame. So I left her with the cage up but locked the basement hatch as I always did. Today might have been the day that she said she loved me, I could always see it in her eyes but I need those words. I need them more than the air that I breathe. Once I hear those words I can stop all this, no more girls would need to die. It would all end. But not until I hear those words. And today was the day.
      I enter my house, the putrid smell was getting worse, it's origins upstairs; but at least my wife had stopped screaming. I head downstairs into the basement to check on my love. Unlocking all the bolts I walk down the steps, not bothering to keep silent. I have to resist saying, 'honey in home!' I finally make it to the bottom step and I'm immediately winded by the sight before me.
My love, by dear sweet love, she was hanging from the ceiling by some electrical ties, a collapsed stool lay upside down a short distance away. I crumpled. My world fell around me. I grabbed her feet and brought them to my mouth, I had never even kissed this girl. Even in death she looked like a goddess, her skin still as smooth as it was on our first meeting. Her hair, not as nice as it once was but the smell she had still lingered. She was still warm to the touch, she mustn't have been dead for long. I took this opportunity to explore the places I resisted from going when she was alive. I kiss her legs and thighs, I stand and hug and grope the hanging body. She would have wanted it this way. I tried so hard to remain good and pure, for her, to show her that I loved her. It dawned on me, she mustn't have been the one. She was just another beautiful failure. Happiness then reclaimed my thoughts because I knew then what I must do. First I need to collect this girls' body, once I'm finished with it, and get it into the boot of my car. I also thought I may as well collect my wife's decomposing body also; the smell might alert the neighbours, plus I've been putting it off for weeks now. I would drive them both to the usual spot, where I dumped all the others, the local tip. Obviously I waited until dark and left the bodies outside the gates. Luckily this tip was halfway down a dirt road, so no passing motorists would see what heinous crime I had committed. All that was left to do was grab a canister of petrol from the boot, a generous sprinkle for all, then set them on fire. Destroying all ties that they had to me. I stood for a while, and watched as they all burned. A slight smile crept onto my face. 'I'm feeding you something now Margret. Feeding you flames' I laugh to myself as I drive away from the scene, it won't be the last time I come here.
     The evidence now gone and the slate clean there was only one thing left to do. Walk the streets and find my true love. They say true love is finding a person who is one in a million. If that's how many it takes to find her, then so be it. 
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