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Post by Simon Montague on Sept 5, 2016 16:26:03 GMT -5
***Simon's Lair*** (OOC: Because all evil serial killers have lairs, and there's no other designated place for him to torture people)
They had never met, but somehow he felt so intimately aware of her. Unconscious as she was now he took a moment to simply watch her breathe. He was so close to touching her he could feel the warmth of her skin, and if he closed his eyes, he could swear he was breathing her in as she was him. Slowly he began to touch her. Just feather light caresses over her arms and across her neck. She was exquisite.
Suddenly his gentle touch turned vicious as he shook her violently and screamed in her face, “Wake up!” before she could open her eyes however he was gone from her vision.
She was in the middle of an almost pitch dark room. The only light filtered through from the ceiling which seemed to be made out of dirt and rock. They were underground. She was bound on some kind of table or altar her hands above her tied to a singular post, her legs were spread slightly each ankle tied to a post on either side of the altar. She would be sore from being in that position for quite a while, but the most disturbing thing would be the mirror directly over her showing exactly how helpless she was, at least until she noticed the dead body lying a few feet away from her.
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Post by Paige Owen on Sept 9, 2016 19:46:08 GMT -5
It was not a peaceful sleep, however much it might have appeared to be so. Paige's mind was filled with hazy, nightmarish images, creeping shadows and dark places. Her sister Chloe figured into many of her dreams, full moon shining overhead and Chloe, a fully-formed werewolf, stalking her in the darkness. Although her relationship with her fair-haired twin had improved somewhat, Paige never really stopped feeling somehow inferior. It was ironic that Chloe was the one who had been bitten, that she, the one who always had seemed like sunshine and rainbows, had been transformed into something so dark. Paige had always thought of herself as the "bad" twin, and Chloe the "good" twin. Now, even though their situations were reversed, Paige still somehow felt inadequate.
But in spite of all of this, Paige never really thought of Chloe as a werewolf. She had never seen her in that form, and a part of her couldn't really reconcile that image with her sister. So the dreams were even more terrifying for Paige. Every so often, she would whimper slightly in her sleep. She tried to move, but her body felt heavy and frozen. In the dream, Chloe lunged toward her suddenly, her teeth bared... and then a ear-splitting yell shattered her out of her sleep. She cried out, startled, and tried to sit up... only to find that she couldn't. She couldn't move at all.
She struggled for several moments, trying to free herself. Slowly, the haze of sleep began to give way to genuine panic, as she realized that her arms seemed to be bound above her head and her legs were also bound. She had no idea where she was and how she had got there. She frantically cast her eyes around the darkened room, unable to make sense of her surroundings. She looked up then, and saw her reflection in the mirror, still struggling against her bonds.
Oh, Godric... where the hell was she? What was happening?
Her breath was coming heavily at this time, her heart pounding in her chest as her brain, still fuzzy from sleep, and possibly some sort of substance, tried to work through what she should do. She must have been kidnapped, but by whom? And why?
Before she could think any more about this, however, she noticed something in the mirror above her. Just a few feet away, on the floor, there was another person. This person's body was twisted in a strange position, not moving, and she knew immediately that the other person was dead.
And then she couldn't help herself. She screamed.
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Post by Simon Montague on Sept 9, 2016 20:06:44 GMT -5
Paige's scream sent shivers of pleasure down Simon's spine. It was music to his ears, and every other cliche phrase which attempted to express undefinable ecstasy.
Simon left her there on her own for hours after she woke.
He knew that the adrenaline was going through her veins and she'd be terrified, he wanted her terror yes, but he wanted her defeat even more.
Finally he arrived disguised and concealed in shadows of course.
He came closer to her not saying anything, keenly watching her reactions though appearing nonchalant. He trailed a gloved finger down the side of her body as he walked toward the bonds at her feet.
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Post by Paige Owen on Sept 11, 2016 14:45:55 GMT -5
Paige had no idea how long she had been lying there after she screamed, but it was long enough for the panic to give way into fury. She had already figured out that she must have been taken by the same person who had killed the girl in the alleyway. He was also suspected of killing a young girl named Sophia at Hogwarts. And now he'd killed again. The girl who was sprawled out on the floor nearby was clearly the latest victim--but Paige was determined that she would not be the next one. She would fight with everything she had to stay alive. Of course, she was at a definite disadvantage with her hands and feet tied up the way they were. But she would find a way. And if she still failed, she could at least leave an identifying mark on him, so maybe Chloe could find him and avenge her.
She'd spent quite a while trying to find a way to loosen the bonds around her hands, without much success. She was tied pretty well, and with her hands above her head, it was hard to get any leverage. But she kept trying, only falling still when she heard footsteps approaching.
She watching, silent and seething, as he entered, his face covered by a mask. This gave her some hope, because surely if he planned to kill her, he wouldn't care if she could see his face, right?
"You sick son of a banshee," she hissed. "What do you want from me? You picked the wrong girl, because if you think I'm going to go quietly, like that girl, you've got another think coming."
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Post by Simon Montague on Sept 11, 2016 16:31:22 GMT -5
"Quiet." he said. His voice was also masked, but his tone of authority was very clear. He didn't care about her fury, he enjoyed her fear, but it wasn't his purpose. At the moment Simon was detached, but completely in control.
"Have you ever been raped Miss Owen?" he asked in the same indifferent tone, the way a person might have asked about playing a sport or going abroad. He massaged her bound ankles gently to accompany his chilling words.
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Post by Paige Owen on Sept 11, 2016 18:10:40 GMT -5
She'd almost wanted him to yell back, to give her a sign of just want to expect. But his quiet command was far more chilling. He was in full control of the situation, and they both knew it. She couldn't help but obey. She fell silent, her breath becoming more rapid as she tried to channel the anger and stave off the panic.
But his next words nearly froze her completely. She felt herself beginning to shake, and she fought valiantly to fight it. Because, yes, she had. She all too clearly remembered the fear and helplessness and had long ago sworn she would never again allow herself to be in such a position. And yet here she was. This was not her fault, she knew that. The last time she had initially blamed herself and it had taken a lot of time--and therapy--to realize that she was not to blame. This time she knew it to be true. She had been sleeping. And he must have taken her from her apartment.
"Yes," she answered quietly, somehow managing to keep her voice neutral. Whatever happened, Paige was determined not to show him her fear. He would never see her cry.
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Post by Simon Montague on Sept 11, 2016 18:49:54 GMT -5
Simon reveled in her shaking, his hands trailed further up her legs so that he was practically massaging her calves.
"You enjoyed didn't you? Being mounted and used like the whore you are." There was a certain malice in Simon's words, something unsteady and not quite calm as before, like an intensity that said he could pounce at any given moment and carry out his earlier threat.
"Tell me how much you enjoyed it." he said moving from her legs and back up toward her shoulders and neck.
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Post by Paige Owen on Sept 11, 2016 21:58:35 GMT -5
His question disgusted her. He disgusted her. She almost wanted to throw up. Clearly she was dealing with a very sick, very twisted individual. Her skin crawled from his touch, as through spiders were walking across her bare skin. She wanted to flick him off, crush him beneath her feet. But of course, she couldn't move.
She'd been in situations where she had no control like this, and that, more than anything else was what terrified her. She was angry, yes, but she was also more frightened than she'd ever been in her life. Suddenly death was not the worst thing that could happen to her.
Of course she did not enjoy it. She didn't enjoy it anymore than she enjoyed what was happening to her right now. It was very similar, actually. She already felt unclean and wanted to wash away all traces of his fingertips.
"No," she ground out in a hateful, venomous voice. It was almost a growl. "Never."
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Post by Simon Montague on Sept 11, 2016 22:13:04 GMT -5
He was massaging her shoulders now, skillfully as if he were a licensed practitioner. He was a doctor, and was well aware of anatomy, but his hands moved lazily it was as much of a caress as it was a massage.
He leaned down low to where his mouth was right against her, "Liar..." his tongue traced the curve of her ear.
"You loved every second, every thrust, you want it to happen again, because you're a whore. Because it's the only thing you're good for." his words were sensual, dark and disgusting, but he whispered them like a caress, his "tender" massage grew in pressure,
"Say it." This last command was not a caress, it was a demand to be followed, cold and detached.
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Post by Paige Owen on Sept 12, 2016 16:48:43 GMT -5
He made her sick. Violently, physically sick. It would serve him right if she emptied the contents of her stomach all over him. Unfortunately, in her current position, she was more likely to get it all over herself.
"I won't," she snarled. "Do what you want to me, I will never say it. It's not true, and I won't say it. You're the liar, you don't know a thing about me."
However much she might beat herself up for the choices and mistakes she had made, she was not about to let anyone else disrespect her in that way. She had been with some guys who had treated her like crap, but she had learned from it, and knew now what she really wanted and needed and deserved. Men like Roland and Austin, men who treated her as though she really did have more to offer than her body. They were interested in her mind and her heart, what she thought and felt and liked and what mattered to her. This man knew nothing of any of that, and she hated him for his words as much as his actions.
She still wondered what he wanted from her. Was he going to kill her? Or was he going to carry out the threats his hands and words seem to be hinting at? Or did he have something else in mind? The waiting and not knowing was probably the worst part, even worse than his disgusting words.
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Post by Simon Montague on Sept 12, 2016 18:42:12 GMT -5
His breathing became heavy out of anger as he leaned over her face, his hands massaging their way up to her throat. He put slight pressure against her windpipe cutting off her air.
"You will learn to do as I say." he said, the anger pouring out of him. He held her on that precipice for a moment, letting her fear build before removing his hands and stepping away from her. Then he laughed. He laughed like a man without a care in the world. He laughed like a man who was deeply amused.
"Of course you didn't like it." he told her assured, "What a strong little puppet you are."
He came back suddenly in a rush, his mouth next to her ear again as he whispered, "I'm going to enjoy pulling your strings."
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Post by Paige Owen on Sept 17, 2016 14:54:46 GMT -5
This is it, she thought, when he began to press his hands against her throat. As she struggled to breathe, Paige was certain that she was going to die. Still, she thought to herself, at least she had not said something she didn't believe in just to keep herself alive. She could die with a clear conscience, knowing that her pride and self-respect would be intact.
He was so angry, so hateful, and she tried to move, to get free of his grasp. But there was no where to go. He had her exactly where he wanted her.
She was surprised when he let go, allowing her inhale again, a great, urgent gasp of air. And then he was laughing. It was a bone-chilling laugh, because it sounded so... innocent. As if someone had just told him a funny joke.
Her breath was still coming in deep, ragged gasps, when he leaned in and whispered in her ear.
"I'm going to enjoy pulling your strings."
"What do you want from me?" she asked, her voice sounding tired, but with a note of frustration.
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Post by Simon Montague on Sept 17, 2016 23:25:02 GMT -5
He laughed again, then fell eerily silent.
"I want you to do what you do best Ms. Owen."
His voice was low and lethal with intent. He was back to trailing his fingertips against her skin.
He had selected her for the fight he saw in her eyes on one of his first crime scenes. She was so passionate to write the story, to be a part of it. Her fight for the truth charmed him. Though he imagined this wasn't what she had in mind.
"I want you to write for me."
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Post by Paige Owen on Sept 18, 2016 22:06:28 GMT -5
She was expecting something very, very different. All this menace, all the threats, and he wanted her to write for him? In that moment, Paige began to figure out something about this man. There had always been a reason why he had his face obscured behind a mask. It was so she could not identify him.
Right now, he was enjoying tormenting her, but he had every intention of letting her go, if she would just agree to what he wanted. But could she, in good conscience, agree to what he wanted? It would depend on what exactly he wanted her to do. If she had to compromise her own beliefs and integrity, she didn't think she could do it. She had gone down that road before, and tried to be what other people expected her to be. It had left her with an eating disorder and a strong case of self-loathing. She couldn't go back to that, not now that she had found her own voice again.
But... if all he wanted her to do was write his story... maybe she could play his game, as long as she played it carefully. Clearly, this man was a narcissist (she had seen far too many of those in her past), and, in some sick, twisted way, he wanted his story known. And he wanted her to tell it.
And maybe, just maybe, if she did what he wanted, it could also help the Ministry track him down. She couldn't identify him, but maybe her stories would provide clues that could lead them on the right trail. A narcissist would not be happy remaining anonymous forever.
"Write what?" she asked, her voice wary but intrigued.
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Post by Simon Montague on Sept 20, 2016 12:57:50 GMT -5
"The truth of course." he said mildly annoyed that she wasn't keeping up with his insanity.
"I want you to write the truth." he wanted the world to see the truth, see his artwork.
Simon was moving around her, he went to the other body and lifted it over his shoulder. He moved toward another obscure object and pressed a button, a machine began to whir nearby, a grinding disturbing sound. He grunted once lifting the body, then the grinding sounded strained. Sounds best left to the horrors of one's imagination not six feet away.
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Post by Paige Owen on Sept 25, 2016 21:35:55 GMT -5
Paige did understand his meaning perfectly. What she didn’t understand was exactly how she was supposed to write what he wanted her to when she didn’t really know anything. Was she supposed to write of her own ordeal, as it happened? Was she supposed to write of other cases when she knew nothing about them? Or was he going to feed her details of his horrific crimes, which she would then have to repeat?
But before she could ask any questions, she heard the horrifying sounds of machinery being activated. Thankfully, he was out of her limited range of vision at that time and she couldn’t see what was happening after he had carried the poor girl’s body away.
As the grinding sound changed, Paige felt a lurch in her stomach and had to turn her head as she vomited.
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Post by Simon Montague on Oct 3, 2016 2:31:49 GMT -5
Simon laughed. As awful as the sound the machine made, his laughter was the most terrifying and repulsive. It echoed throughout the room, rich and dark and something else entirely. It was gleeful. He was reveling in his current actions and reveling in Paige's terror. He was giving her everything he wanted.
When he was finished disposing of the body he approached Paige once again. He placed a hand on her cheek his hands still warm and slick leaving a red mark on Paige's cheek.
"Are you ready to get to work Ms. Owen?"
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Post by Paige Owen on Oct 7, 2016 22:22:32 GMT -5
What exactly was she supposed to say to that? Oh, yes, Mr. Crazy Sick Serial Killer, I am so ready to do whatever you want me to do, please use me and abuse me as you please? Paige hated everything about this whole situation, but most of all, she hated him. She wished she could see his face so that she could help the authorities catch this sick son of a banshee. But of course, if he let her see his face, she knew perfectly well it would likely be the last thing she’d ever see. And if she didn’t agree to do as he wanted, that would probably also be the case.
She had no choice. “Yes,” was all she said. If she was lucky, it would mean she could get out of here alive.
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Post by Simon Montague on Oct 8, 2016 2:37:59 GMT -5
Simon's laughter rang out once more as the caress on Paige's cheek turned into a vicious grip. He held her mouth open and then poured some kind of thick and bitter liquid down her throat.
"Now...feel free to scream...I've heard that this may sting...just a bit." he said delicately though the amusement was still thick in his tone of voice.
The spell he was using would link Paige to Simon when Simon wanted them to be linked. She would see what he saw. She would feel what he felt. It was a powerful tool indeed, but every vision she had would be a nightmare one Paige wouldn't be able to wake up from.
It also hurt like the dickens, each vision would feel like drills in the back of her eyes, to say nothing of the spell itself.
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Post by Paige Owen on Oct 9, 2016 18:40:50 GMT -5
His laughter was like ice cold water being dripped along her spine. She didn’t even have time to react, however, as he started pouring a foul-tasting liquid down her throat. She gagged a little, and coughed, but was somehow able to keep in down, even though the taste and texture combined to make it the most disgusting thing she had ever had.
She didn’t scream, however. Partially it was because she was too busy trying not to choke to death, but there might have been a little tiny bit of pride there, too… he had already debased her by tying her up and keeping her helpless and she had already been sick once, but she’d be damned if she’d let him see her scream. This time, at least.
After it was done, Paige felt weak and shaky all over. She might have even blacked out for a moment, but recovered quickly. She wasn’t sure what was going to happen next, and all she could do was wait.
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