Prologue

I stood there in the dimly lit room, surrounded by the cold, damp walls that seemed to close in on us. The only source of light was a flickering bulb hanging from the ceiling, casting eerie shadows across her tear-streaked face. As I observed her trembling form, a twisted mix of emotions swirled within me.

My fingers traced the contours of her cheek, the texture of her skin sending shivers down my spine. Her eyes, wide with fear, pleaded for mercy, but the silver tape held her voice hostage. It took every ounce of restraint not to rip it away, to savor the symphony of her screams.

"It's alright, Liss," I whispered, my voice a low murmur that echoed in the cold room. "You're not alone in this. Many have come before you, and many will follow." My thumb gently wiped away the smudged mascara beneath her eye, leaving behind a streak of darkness on my skin. The contrast between her vulnerability and my sinister reassurances painted a chilling tableau.

Her breaths were fast and jagged, a rhythmic percussion accompanying the tension in the air. The room seemed to pulse with an energy that was both intoxicating and menacing. "Shhh, there's no need to be frightened," I cooed, my lips barely an inch from the silver barrier that stifled her cries. "You're part of something greater now, a legacy that transcends time."

As I leaned down, my lips pressed against her forehead, leaving a lingering mark of false comfort. She squirmed beneath me, her body desperate to escape the inescapable. The wet dirt clung to her, a reminder of the inevitability of her circumstances.

"You're special, Liss," I continued, my voice dropping to a sinister whisper. "This is a privilege, a gift that not everyone gets to experience. Embrace it, and you'll find a kind of liberation that only those initiated can comprehend."

Her muffled protests vibrated through the tape, a futile attempt to resist the inevitable. In the distorted dance of shadows, I reveled in the perverse satisfaction of dominance, the dark narrative unfolding with every passing moment.

The unexpected turn of events left me unsettled; my meticulously crafted plan had been derailed by the sudden move, thrusting me into a premature farewell. Yet, the urgency of the situation eclipsed any sentimentality. Elissa's departure, fueled by the fabricated note left on her bed, had successfully deceived everyone. Still, beneath the surface, a tinge of sorrow lingered at the hastiness of our parting.

"You tried," I muttered, my voice a low rasp, as I looked down at her. Her eyes, filled with a mixture of fear and confusion, met mine. "I almost thought it was going to be okay, but you just aren't good enough."

Behind the silver tape that bound her lips, she attempted to articulate something—a plea, a protest, perhaps even my name—but the muffled syllables held no significance. Did it matter? Not really.

I continued, my tone detached yet tinged with a peculiar satisfaction, "The first one wasn't either, but he was easier to get rid of. Allergies..."

I shook my head, memories of the previous encounter flickering in my mind. The sheer absurdity of the excuse had amused me then, and now, faced with a different circumstance, it felt almost poetic. Despite the grim situation, a wry smile crept onto my face.

She, on the other hand, remained a stark contrast to the pastel blue playsuit she had adorned for our ill-fated date. The fabric, now dark, dirty, and soaked, clung uncomfortably to her athletic figure. The wetness served as a harsh reminder of the unpredictable nature of our rendezvous, a stark transformation from the hopeful beginning to the ominous present.

Her legs, once beautifully shaped and free, were now bound by the cold, unyielding embrace of tape, wrapping from ankles to knees. The tape clung to her skin, a cruel reminder of the loss of freedom, as her calves strained against the restraint. Despite her futile struggles, her thighs pushed against me, a desperate attempt to break free from the suffocating grip.

"Liss..." I whispered her name, the syllables carrying a weight of regret. I shook my head, torn between empathy and the merciless demands of my twisted reality. With a firm push, I forced her back into the mud, the wet earth offering no solace.

Thunder rumbled in the distance, a ominous soundtrack to the unfolding scene. "I'm sorry," I confessed, the words heavy with genuine remorse. My apology hung in the air, a stark acknowledgment of the chaos I had unleashed. Yet, even in my regret, the twisted logic of my actions whispered that nobody could take my place, and nobody would ever be good enough for her.

Her eyes, a mix of defiance and fear, bore into mine. The silence between us was broken by the subtle squelching of mud beneath her struggling form. In that moment, the world seemed to pause, as if nature itself was holding its breath, anticipating the resolution of an unspeakable act.

"I didn't want it to be like this," I added, my voice a strained murmur. The conflict within me was palpable, a struggle between the remnants of a conscience and the inexorable pull of a darker force. Yet, as the storm loomed overhead, mirroring the tempest within, the realization lingered that the path I had chosen was irreversible.

Her once short brown hair now clung to her head, lacquered by the mud as she slowly sank into the hole. Her arms, the last vestiges of resistance, prevented her from descending seamlessly. I had tightly taped them behind her, from wrist to elbow, but the constraints had become a hindrance. She shifted from side to side, her shoulders inadvertently lifting her from the shallow trench I had meticulously dug.

The grave, partially filled with water, served its purpose — not to completely bury her, but to ensure she remained trapped. I watched as her taped legs sank, surrounded and swallowed by the encroaching mud. It wasn't necessary for her to be completely submerged; the pleasure lay in the imagination of her helplessness.

I tilted my head, placing my hands on her shoulders, as a sudden flash of lightning illuminated the sky. The brightness was startling, even before darkness had fully descended. As if prompted by the celestial display, rain began to pour, the drops heavy and fat, soaking the back of my shirt. A smirk played on my lips. "Well, this works out better than I had planned," I chuckled softly.

The rain intensified, transforming the dug hole into a makeshift reservoir. It cascaded down the sides, merging with drier patches of the dirt walls. The mud around her legs thinned, but the puddle beneath us deepened. I could feel both of us becoming surrounded by a small lake of water, the rising tide of rainwater creating an eerie ambiance as the storm unfolded.

"I'll have to bid you farewell sooner than anticipated, or we'll both find our resting place together," I chuckled, the dark humor echoing in the ominous atmosphere. Her struggles intensified, a futile attempt to defy the inevitable. Raindrops washed away the dirt from her face, revealing the softness of her skin, now chilled. Unable to resist, I placed my hand back on her cold cheek.

Her desperate movements only succeeded in splashing more water and dirt around us, burying her arms deeper into the hole. The rain, relentless in its assault, gradually softened the mud behind her, causing her to sink further with each frantic struggle. Muffled cries emanated from behind the tape, a symphony of desperation.

Leaning down over her, I pressed a kiss to her collarbone, a tender gesture in stark contrast to the sinister scene. It had always been my favorite part of her, a vulnerability I reveled in. Suddenly, she thrashed violently, almost tossing me aside. Her shoulder collided with my jaw, and the metallic taste of blood filled my mouth.

Jerking back, my hands instinctively closed around her neck. "You always were a bitch, though," I snarled, the bitterness evident in my tone. I tightened my grip, her feeble attempts to resist only amplifying the struggle and her eyes wider than I'd ever seen. 

Those piercing blue eyes…