Quincea?era

Story codes: M/f, snuff, necro, rom, nc->cons, supernatural

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, to be read only by individuals aged 18 or above. The events depicted herewith are fantasy and do not reflect real world events in any way.




Part One



For quite some time, I could not shake the feeling that I had done something terribly wrong.

She was not, as I long had thought, perfect. My eyes found flaws where there were none, as though they had hidden themselves in the vibrance of her body in motion, only to be revealed as she lay still.

But those were the features that made Bella. Without them, she would be like anyone else. Perfection must accede to flaws to evolve into character.

I wiped the traces of berry juice from her lips, glancing over to the mirror on the floor nearby, stained by the same nectar. In a few days I would discover whether my endeavors came to fruition, but there were more pressing concerns at hand.

I swallowed a Ritalin and started to give her a bath.




* * *




It was October 3rd, five days before her quinceañera. Her empyrean hair gleamed from a distance, marking her amid the crowd on the busy promenade. The sight of it roiled my anxiety, but I stood fast against the tide in the greatest challenge of my life. Everything I needed and could procure was in place; all that remained was opportunity.

Knowing such a thing would never come if I did not place myself squarely in its path, I learned all I could about the crime I was about to commit, drawing inspiration from news articles, court documents and, of course, television shows. I had gained access to her e-mail and cell phone surreptitiously, enlightening me to her itinerary prior to her birthday. She was to pick up her dress from the shop after some last minute alterations; knowing that she would be at a specific place at a certain time made it easier to plan ahead. I parked an unassuming vehicle at a strategic location nearby, and carried with me a pair of latex gloves as well as a syringe containing animal tranquilizer. To become adept at using the last item, I spent many hours perfecting the art of jabbing a needle into a person’s neck by practicing on a mannequin.

It would seem that kidnapping someone in broad daylight in a public area might be ill advised, but a throng of people minding their own business also might serve as the perfect camouflage. As long as I did not allow myself to be interrupted at the most crucial moment, delivering her to the vehicle and making my escape would be simple.

Yet for all my preparations, I was under no illusion that my plan would succeed without a bit of luck. I thought it was a romantic notion: somehow, the proverbial stars must be aligned for Bella and I to be united. If I failed, then we were not meant to be together.

Setting aside the poetic implications, I stalked Bella from afar and waited for the right moment to act. Having hacked into her cell, I had arranged for my burner to receive her GPS location and text messages concurrently, giving me as clear a picture of her movements as possible. To draw her away from her companions, I sent her a text message from a spoofed source—purportedly from her boyfriend—asking her to sneak away alone for a few minutes. There were contingency plans in place if she refused or insisted on my coming to her instead, but when she acquiesced I knew my chances had improved dramatically.

On my phone I watched her icon on the map draw ever closer to my location, a cloistered section of the promenade through which Bella must travel to meet up with her “boyfriend.” My heart fluttered at the prospect of laying my hands on her at last, forcing me to seek the reassurance of the syringe in my pocket and visualize the encounter.

Bella came into view just as I completed the last practice run in my head. I kept my head down as though I were focused on my cell phone. She, too, was absorbed in her phone, oblivious to the world beyond the wall of sound emanated by her earbuds. The bill of her baseball cap was pulled low in a cursory attempt to remain incognito. Enveloped in what seemed like a cosmic singularity, I felt a strange calmness descend upon me as we came together.

I slipped the syringe out of my pocket and removed the plastic cap. Entrusting my fate to the cadence of muscle memory, I stabbed down at her neck with the needle.

She looked up at me just as I pressed down on the plunger. Cognition flashed in her eyes, and a nascent cry escaped her lips, but that was all her swooning body could manage before she began to topple. I yanked the needle free and caught her with my arm, bracing her against me as I shuffled toward the car. Along the way, I made sure to toss away her cell phone.

The journey to the car was a complete blur. By the time I managed to stow my captive in the passenger seat and get in next to her, I realized that I had been holding my breath, panting heavily while crushing the steering wheel in my clammy grip. An unexpected torrent of foreboding shattered my composure, and suddenly all I could think of was how many passersby and security cameras must have witnessed my actions.

Even as I continued to fret, comfort came in the form of Bella’s fragrance. Unbeknownst to her, that very scent was the providence I needed to survive the last mile of my challenge. Although she was asleep, her sweet smell rose like a specter to caress my ear, whispering assurances into it, affirming that everything will be all right. In her most fragile and vulnerable state, Bella became the source of courage I needed to forge ahead.

I quickly took stock of my surroundings and proceeded to drive home.




* * *




There were few things as intoxicating as the thrill of victory against incredible odds, and fewer still were the pleasures compared to holding Bella in my arms. I could barely contain my excitement when we finally crossed the threshold into my house. Fortune willing, we were going to spend the last few days before her fifteenth birthday alone, in the safety and privacy of my abode.

I both wanted and needed her to be awake for the next part of my plan. Knowing she would try her best to escape, I bound her hands and feet and laid her on a bare mattress as a temporary measure. The soundproof nature of that room rendered it impossible to hear us from without.

In between double and triple checking my setup for the night, I stole a moment to drink in the sight of her as she lay unconscious. Her breathing was shallow but her pulse was strong, a good sign considering my inexperience at using tranquilizers. Her eyelids fluttered reflexively, fanning her lovely eyelashes in the wake of their quaking. Her aquiline nose, the size of which was often a source of unfair ridicule, flared adorably as she slept. When my eyes fell upon her bare left shoulder, where a single bra strap was left fashionably exposed by her loose blouse, my commitment to observe finally broke; I embraced her and kissed her deeply, reaping taste and breath from her defenseless lips.

Contrary to the nature of her stardom, she did not rouse from my kiss like a fairy tale princess. She only began to stir an hour later, moaning as she fought the skein of grogginess. Perhaps she had regained alertness long before her faculties, because she broke into hysterics as soon as she found her voice, weak and hoarse as it were. I let her exhaust her breath before introducing myself to her drowsy eyes.

“Hello, Bella,” I addressed her and gave her my name, clutching her shoulders to steady her. “Can you hear me? Yes, you’ve been kidnapped. Let me know if you understand me.”

Her brow furrowed, her dark eyes squinting as she struggled to see me clearly. A sheen of tears slid over them as she mumbled her acknowledgment, which she reinforced with a nod.

“Good. I know you won’t believe me, but don’t be afraid, I am not going to hurt you. It’s just that I know there’s no other way for me to have my say otherwise, and I need to have your full attention.”

My tone must have been too severe, because her lips soon began to quiver, and she had to blink away the tears swelling in her eyes. I shushed her gently and wiped the moisture from her cheeks. “It’s all right, Bella, it’ll be over soon. You’ll still have your quinceañera, I promise.

“I felt I needed to tell you this before you became a woman. No matter what other people say, I think you’re a special girl and I feel very strongly about you. I’m not stupid and I know there’s no chance in Hell that we’re ever going to be together, but I couldn’t just let myself sit back and admire you from a distance.

“In a few years you’re going to blossom into an icon, and I may have moved on by then, but I’ll still feel like shit whenever I see you hanging on the arm of some guy. It stinks, but we all have to deal with it.

“I had to talk to you, face to face, so you understand that this is more than just a disturbing tweet or a creepy piece of fan mail.”

She had overcome enough of her shock by the end of my speech that she was able to hold my gaze. I let the statement hang in the air as an invitation to a response. She chewed her words deliberately and managed to squeak, “I understand. I-I believe you. But please, you have to let me go. I swear I won’t tell anyone.”

Under the circumstances, that was probably the best response for which I could have hoped; anything more endearing would have breached the boundaries of credibility. The chill of disappointment washed over me nonetheless, and while I had disciplined myself to resist its influence, my response was forestalled by a yearning for more.

She must have read into my hesitation, because she added, “Like…like I said, I swear to God I’ll never, ever tell anyone about this, but…I won’t forget you, either.” She choked back a sob and let her miserable countenance appeal to my trust.

My face never betrayed anything but genuine compassion, drawn from within and aggrandized for her benefit. She was doing everything in her power to appease me, and I had to admire her ability to speak to me insightfully without losing her composure. I would give her no reason to fear.

“Thank you, Bella,” I pledged, smiling and letting go of her. “That’s exactly what I needed to hear.” From the floor nearby I retrieved a plate of berries, scooping up a handful of the dark blue pellets and presenting them to her. “I’m going to free you now, but I need to put you back to sleep, so you won’t be able to find me again. These are just some berries from South America—you know, like açaí berries—that will make you really drowsy.”

Bella was understandably suspicious. I offered her an alternative, showing her another syringe with a large, menacing needle. “Look, Bella, I know I’m the last person on earth you’d trust right now, but it’s either the berries or the needle, and I really don’t want to have to jab you with that thing again.”

She knew better than to ask for a third alternative.