4The girl's vision cleared for a moment, only to fade back to black as her captor's fist connected with the side of her head, sending her face first into the mud. She took a moment to spit out some dirt before turning her gaze back to her assailant. An arc of lightning pierced the night sky, lighting up the wooded meadow for a brief moment as the young woman struggled against the ropes that bound her hands behind her back. Her dark hazel eyes darted about from behind her wet and matted chestnut hair, alight with panic. Her captor stood before her, his short cut, auburn hair matted down from the heavy rain. Even had she been standing, this man would have towered over her. He stood well over six feet tall, his broad shoulders arched as he looked up to the sky with a grin of sick satisfaction. Everything about him spoke of strength and confidence. His stature, his stance, and even the piercing look in his cold, green eyes made him appear as large and sturdy as the oak trees that surrounded the small meadow. She let out a shrill scream, only to have her plea drowned out by the boom of a thunder-clap a moment later.
"Hush." The man ordered in a deep and low voice just as the woman opened her mouth to scream again. "You'll ruin the moment. Besides, nobody will hear you, I've made sure of that."
"Who...Who are you?" The woman asked, her delicate voice practically inaudible over the falling rain.
"I am god." The man stated, no hint of humor in his voice as he turned his piercing eyes on her. "And you, you are an insect."
The roar of thunder broke the silence as she stared back at him. As ridiculous as his claim sounded, The girl almost believed him for a moment. There was a weight about him, his very presence inhibited her to the point where she did indeed feel like a helpless insect. He started to walk toward her, his black work boots sloshing in the wet soil as he drew near. The woman's eyes widened as she tried to back away, but found herself backed against one of the many tall oak trees that surrounded the meadow. She flinched instinctively as her captor reached into the back pocket of his faded blue jeans, certain he was producing a weapon. Her eyes widened when instead he produced her red leather wallet.
"Amy Lucas." He read from her driver's license with a sadistic grin. "Cute name."
"You sick fuck!" She cried out, her face flushing red. "What do you want! Why did you bring me here!"
Although she posed the question, she feared she already knew the answer. There weren't many innocent motives that would drive a man to kidnap a young woman and drag her out into the woods. Her teeth began to chatter, though whether out of fear or from the cold rain, she couldn't tell. Despite her dire situation, her senses were alive, the adrenaline rush bringing some sort of subconcious satisfaction to her.
"You brought yourself here, with this." The man laughed as he unbuttoned his black denim jacket and produced an empty syringe, his chiseled face twisting into a sadistic grin. "We are all born gods. It is only when we submit to the will of others, and to our own self-destructive nature, that we allow ourselves to know mortality. Your choices, your nature, your addictions, brought you to this, brought you to me."
The man threw the syringe her way, laughing out loud as she flinched. Amy was all too familiar with needles, with addictions, with the sweet escape such chemicals gave her. But for this stranger to judge her, to drag her out here so he could fulfill whatever sick desires he had? That was too much.
"Who the hell are you to judge me!" She screamed out, lurching forward as she struggled to her feet. "You're just a sick psycho who-"
The words were cut short as the man rushed forward and grabbed her by the throat, his well muscled arms lifting her to her feet effortlessly as he slammed her back into a tree. A flash of steel of steel took her mind away from the dull ache in her back, stoppingto rest against her delicate throat. She struggled to breathe as she eyed the weapon, an ivory-handled straight razor with intricate carvings and engravings that continued up the shaft and onto the blade itself. Her memory was starting to fade back in, the party, the drugs, the liquor. And this man, he had been there. At the time she'd thought he seemed out-of-place there, he had sat alone in the back, just watching as the party had began to wind down. But that was nothing to attract too much attention, she'd seen him talking to the host earlier the same night, money being exchanged. She'd just assumed he was a dealer, selling off some heroin for the party. Had one of this needles been filled with something different, or had she just passed out from an overdose?
The man's grip tightened around her throat, bringing her back to the present as his intense eyes bore straight through her. Those terrible yet beautiful eyes. They were a bight green that would have made the young woman blush under a different set of circumstances. It seemed like they could look right through her, like this man wasn't really looking at her, but rather staring straight through her. Amy had always been a thrill seeker, and adrenaline had always been the drug she'd inevitably fall back on when no other was available. This intensity, the knowledge that her life was in the hands of a psychotic sadist, it was undeniably alluring to her. She gritted her teeth and pressed forward into the blade, shuddering as it bit into the flesh of her throat. The man's eyes flickered down to the superficial wound briefly, but showed no other visible reaction.
"I wish I could see through those eyes of yours." Amy choked out, never breaking the eye contact. She could feel a warm trickle of blood making its way down her neck, but the adrenaline was only making her bolder. "The things you must have seen, the things you must have done. How does it feel to hold such power over the lives of others, to hold the power of a god?"
The man's eyebrow raised slightly as he looked her over. Still holding that expression of puzzlement, he lowered the razor from her throat and released her. Amy breathed in deeply as a bit of color returned to her pale face. The rain had slowed to a drizzle, and she could clearly hear a slight chuckle escape her captor. He put one of his massive hands on her shoulder and effortlessly turned her to face away from him.
"You've never tasted it, have you?" He whispered in her ear, his deep voice sending a shudder down her spine. "How have you lived so long in the control of others, never tasting what it's like to be a master of your own fate?"
She felt the rope binding her wrists slacken suddenly as he cut her loose. Rubbing her newly freed hands, Amy turned to face this curious man. He slipped the straight razor back into the front pocket of his blue jeans and pulled off his black denim jacket, revealing a well muscled torso beneath a cotton, white sleeveless shirt. Throwing the coat aside, he fumbled with something on his back for a moment before producing a small, polymer coated pistol. Not sure where he was going with this, Amy just watched in silence. The man took her hand gently and folded her fingers around the grip of the gun, leaving it in her hand and taking a step back. He knelt down on his knees and motioned her forward. Entranced, Amy obeyed, stepping towards him with the gun held limp at her side. The man grabbed her gently by the wrist once more, pulling the muzzle of the gun up to rest on his forehead before letting her go.
"Tell me, how does that feel?" He asked in a barely audible whisper, his head bowed.
Speechless, Amy stared down at the top of his head, her finger tensed on the trigger. For the first time in her life, she felt in control, she felt powerful. With this one action, this man had lifted her up from a helpless victim into a state of complete control and power. She held the fate of another in her hands, she could end a life on a whim, without consequence. And after what he had planned for her, she knew she would never feel a bit of guilt over it. A grin crossed her face as she slid the barrel down the man's face slowly, bringing it to rest under his chin. The man's head lifted as she pulled his chin up with the muzzle of the gun, their eyes locking.
"I feel like a god." She murmured as she pressed the gun hard into his throat, tilting the man's head back. "I feel alive, I feel like for once in my life, I'm in control."
"What you feel is pure, unrestrained power. The power to determine the fate of another, the control of life and death, just as god would." Her captive replied calmly, his eyes looking skyward. "Your god must be cowering in fear right about now, you've taken your first taste of life's most forbidden fruit. Do as a god does enough times, and you will become just as a god is."
Amy's hand shook as a wicked smil spread across her fair face, her eyes alight with some inner fire. She had spent her life being controlled and used by others. She had never posessed any control over her own life, let alone the power to control anyone else's. With a small, short laugh, she tossed the gun aside and looked the man straight in the eyes.
"What's the matter Amy, do you lack the resolve to kill a human being!" He shouted, his deep voice rising for the first time, a sound every bit as intimidating as the earlier thunderclaps. "I brought you out here to die! To have my fun with you, butcher you, and leave your dismembered corpse out here to rot! So why not take my life when it is in your power to do so!"
"No." She replied sternly, shaking her head slowly. "I could kill you and not feel an ounce of remorse. But to hold the life of another in your hands, and to give it back to them, that's an even greater display of power."
Amy looked down at the man, taken aback by the look in his eyes. Throughout all the events that had transpired in the meadow, those intense green eyes of his had remained cold and emotionless. Now, there was something in them, some inner fire as he looked up at her. She knelt down in the wet grass before him, the two staring each other down. At first she'd presumed this man was just insane, delusional and lost in his own psychosis. But now, now she was beginning to understand what had sounded so crazy only moments before. She'd spent the past few years of her life chasing cheap thrills, doing anything to feel a rush. This man had shown her an even more intoxicating drug, control, and the power it brought. After tasting that, how hollow would the escape of a needle feel?
"This is unlike anything I've felt before, this sense of power. No matter what might drive you to this, I can understand this addiction." She whispered as she reached out and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Show me more, show me what it means to be a god."
The man rose to his feet slowly, never breaking eye contact as he pulled Amy to her feet with him. His hand went to his back pocket, producing a small, metallic object. He held it out in his palm, giving Amy a good view of it. Her heart skipped a beat as she realized what the small rectangular piece of metal was, the clip for the pistol she had held to the man's forehead. She wasn't familiar with firearms, but she knew enough to realize that she had never truly held any power over this man. Had she pulled the trigger, he would have been no worse for the wear, but he likely would have ensured she was with a few strokes of his fancy razor.
"You've much to learn before you can claim god-hood." He chuckled with an almost sinister mirth, interrupting her reflections. "But I can see that your mind is much more open to the idea than any of my former prey. And more importantly, you have that rare desire to be as god is. I think you'd make a fine god, so long as you have the right teacher. I could be that teacher. I'll make a god out of you yet, little insect."