2Lucy's heart raced. Her throat was dry. Silence lay like the thick fog surrounding her as she sat shivering intensely on a park bench, somewhere in London. She had walked for hours. Last she recalled, she had left her flat a little after nine and as she presently removed her damp leather jacket from her wrist to peer at her watch, she realised it was now midnight.
"If only there were a way you could know what time it was without referring to a watch." Came a dull whisper.
Lucy gasped and turned in the direction that she assumed the voice had come from. A dark figure stood leaning against the trunk of an old oak tree. She could only make out a dark form. The face of the man was submerged in the darkness around and could not be identified.
"Oh, hello there. What makes you say such a thing?" She said, softly.
Lucy knew the question must have sounded foolish and to be asking a stranger such a thing rather than running in the opposite direction was another element to the situation she did not consider. The truth was she was glued to the chair, hypnotised almost. As obscene as that may sound.
It was as though she were captivated by the mystery of such a person. His mere aura drawing her in. She was like an innocent, fragile princess taken by the evil hypnotism of a villain. In that instance it was as though she were in a fairy-tale.
The figure approached, drawing closer to her minute by minute. Her heart rate increased only a small amount but that was because the man seemed to be clasping it with a tightly closed fist, drawing his rough hands around her heart, with an evil grin crawling upon his face. He was a demon. He could enter and greet her soul simply by glaring at her and considering it. The power of manipulation that he had was supernatural, cruel and intense.
In that instant, Lucy saw the rough, misshapen hand come towards her and from her perspective it appeared as a cold lump of flesh before her eyes. She swallowed. The hand then fell upon her head clumsily. Her eyes attempted to watch as the thick, grey fingers ran through her glossy blonde hair, which shined in the murky lights of the street lamps.
She cried out a little, but then prevented any more noise from seeping from her lips in fear of what this might provoke the man to do next. Instead she remained silent and preyed he would leave her be.
"Your hair, it is so very smooth." He whispered.
The slow pace of the voice was an attempt, or so she assumed, to calm her. But it had little effect. What might have felt and seemed rational to a mad man was obviously going to contrast her own clear perspective. She simply waited for someone to save her, which seems foolish but in the circumstance, paralysed by this man's captivating influence, she could do little else.
"Tell me of the times you spent thinking of me, the ways in which we speak and touch…"
He went on but she was too disgusted to listen. Her heart and mind switched off and she prayed she were home safe in her room. The man continued to smooth her hair with his repulsive fingers. They were almost a shade of grey, thick with grime and they reeked of metal, which was a contrast to the cleanliness of her washed hair.
"I do not understand. Do I know you? Have we met?" She whimpered innocently.
"In another life other than this, I am sure. A lady with such distinct beauty as yours is surely something unforgettable to a man so undeserving as me." He sneered.
"I am afraid I do not understand…" She began.
"You are naïve. Yes, well intelligence can't be expected of beauty! They are too very different things."
"You speak riddles."
"Alas, we speak riddles because we do not understand each other well enough, it would seem!"
At that moment the man's hand tightened around a clump of her hair and he drew her head back with it. Lucy screamed which, as she assumed it would, angered the man greatly. He growled like a beast and she felt his saliva crawl down her right cheek. This again provoked her to cry out and once again angered the man.
He lifted her from the bench, her legs draped loosely over his left bicep as he carried her to the oak and threw her carelessly to floor. Lucy felt her spine hit the solid earth bellow and the pain was so intense that her whole back went numb with pain. She was now stranded alone in the middle of a park, somewhere in London. The man had left her and although this might have been a reason to feel safe, she realised his presence was better than none.
Lucy felt the tears pour from her eyes. It was as though they were released without her authority and she had no control over their rapid exit. They were no comfort either. Her face became stiff as they invited the cold to clasp her face.
She suddenly felt desperate and her sense of being alone was so tangible she could have almost reached out and touched it in that instant.
However, she was reassured when suddenly she heard the crunching of leaves. Someone was approaching her. The sound of heavy boots trampling leaves drew closer and her heart raced with hope.
"Help me!" She wined.
But it was not as she hoped.
The man had returned.