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UNRATED AND UPDATED: 02/28/2012
“I just have to say…” As only a single dark and sinister silhouette stood between a high-powered surgical lamp and the frightened female victim bound and gagged on the cold stainless-steel table lying naked except for the stainless steel bondages that held her from resisting let alone, escaping.
Her dark emerald green eye showing only the filling insurmountable rising terror within her troubling soul spoke volumes to the man looking down upon her bloodstained and bruised face with several lacerations to accompany a fight, a struggle for her very life. A struggle by the obvious looks of things has bitterly lost.
He’s seen this look in one’s eyes before, many times before and it is something that would never persuade him to stop. Let alone, show any mercy in his dark craft that made him what he is, what he will always continue to be.
The woman’s green eye shadow begins running down from the sockets of her terrorized eyes unto her dirty soiled cheeks as she tried to moan in begging for her life.
“Your perseverance, your fortitude, your tenacious ability, and bloodhound-like ability to not give up has brought your to my table. However, you will not survive this day. Trust me in saying that I appreciate all that you have done.”
She struggles once more at her bindings of stainless-steel handcuffs on both her hands and ankles that force her legs to be spread wide to the railings on both sides of this glistening autopsy table. She is fully exposed to him. He looks down across her ivory body free of hair of any kind and takes notice only momentarily of her genitalia, her glistening vagina, her darken anus.
His shadow looms quickly back over her head casting a shadow down upon her. She sees in his right hand a weapon, a tool, and then it dawns upon her as she begins to thrash even more violently. She realizes it’s a sharp scalpel that the light reflects and dances upon the very sharp edge in a menacing tempo.
“Leastwise you have a clean snatch. You won’t be stinking up my little accommodations down here, will you, bitch?”
She begins to struggle violently once more rattling her restrainments against the thick stainless-steel table’s railing to no avail as he looked in a cold-blooded smile that began to blossom across his granite face.
“Too scared to be mad I suppose. Well, okay then, it will be just fine with me. I mean, fuck, it ain’t gonna stop me in the least. Is it?”
She struggles violently, “I don’t think you’re gonna break your own set of handcuffs.” He pauses with a cold flash of his smile before he continues on, “And for this, you know all your hard work to end up here, I shall make you bleed out while listening to some righteous Testament. Oh, I know that you are not familiar with this band; the album is called none other than ‘The Ritual’ that I will play for you from my personal music collection.
How fitting isn’t it? The ritual yes in-fucking-deed.”
She toils at her bondages. He pays no mind as he turns to the small stainless table with a surgical cloth below the surgical instruments and a small electronic device, his remote to the surround sound system in the dark basement out of her eyesight.
She begins to hear the abrasive music rise up around them both. He turns back to her after sitting down this remote device back on the top of the table still holding the scalpel carefully in his right gloved hand.
His black long hair tied tightly into a single ponytail then sits down the scalpel as if a thought comes to him, causing him to give more thought as his head turns cocking an ear to the song with his back still towards her as she turns to see him through the lenses of her insurmountable trepidation.
“I really don’t believe I have had someone on the slab sort of speak, while listening to this wonderful band…” He says in almost a whisper. “…until now.”
“Well…” He whispers like before picking up the scalpel again and turning his direction to her dressed in his black rubber apron reaching for his face shield lying on a larger table before the two as he puts it on with his left hand securely upon his head. Closing the clear shield down before his stern face as she begins to panic at the ghastly site of the realization of her own demise is about to play out before them.
“The end, it is precarious to some…” He stops momentarily giving away to the music before continuing.
“Sorry, I mean to say, life is so precarious. I mean one moment you’re sitting in your office and running good people’s name into the motherfucking ground. After all, that’s what you goddamn cops do other than eating doughnuts and drinking coffee. The next, you’re doing a line of cocaine taken from your own evidence room with a dear friend you have known since grammar school. Then as you leave the ladies room to head back to your table rubbing your nose and taking what you have on your finger and rubbing the coke on your gums. Yeah bitch, I was paying attention through you weren’t. Didn’t think anyone was paying attention while you were at the Number 10 Saloon. And by the way, when I say ‘ladies’ for you, I use that term in the widest sense of the very word. Nonetheless, I am there in the shadows waiting with a warm cloth to place over your mouth and off to sleep you go. Right…?”
He continues on talking, “But that was only the latter. I mean, you’re a fucking cop, a goddamned badge that thought you were onto something. You know, with all the killings that has been mysteriously going on around here in Deadwood. First it was that fucking whore that was fucking all those high school lads, you know, the basketball players giving them a hot dose of the goddamn clap and sucking their little dicks, and shit. Then it was from that murder, the shooting of your fellow pig, the cop in his SUV one morning in which I had absolutely nothing about and of course. But you’re right about the whore found with her fucking throat slashed from ear to ear and shoved in the garbage can on her fucking head. Then there is the matter of one Mick Jacobson, and some of the others motherfuckers I personally dispatched.”
Raven pauses momentarily, “Well you are right about me though. I am fucking insane, I am a likely fucking suspect, and the most likely but you had no proof.”
He looks into her dark emerald eyes and could see there in them, a measure of surprise as how he knows about what was said, what she said to someone else a few days back in her office in Deadwood’s police department’s homicide division.
Blackstone continues on smiling as he spoke, “Yeah, like most of the fucking cunts in this town, they can’t keep their crotches closed let alone their fucking gaping mouths shut. Anyway, fuck it. I am that fucking monster you were talking about in spite of all the evidence you didn’t have as you can see now.”
Blackstone smiled as he is caught in his own thoughts and amusement, “Your own police chief, you know the one you call a ‘faggot’ who indeed enjoys wearing his wife’s undergarments and bangs young boys in Rapid City? Yeah, anyways, he told you that you were looking in the wrong direction. But you weren’t, were you? No bitch, you were, as we can clearly see right the fuck now, you’re right on the goddamn money.”
Raven pauses once more to cool his anger, “Maybe you were just trying to make a name for yourself, and maybe you were genuinely trying to stop a fucking monster. Maybe you were trying to stop me. Many have tried. Yeah, you can take that bit of information to the cold grave with you too – Fucking cop.”
Blackstone smiles again but this time looking more oddly at her as his face darkens as something even more sinister than himself takes a strong hold upon him. “Since you’re a fucking cop, ever had your ass brutally fucked? Not to worry cunt, you’ll be dead when I do it, you fucking bitch.”
She bucks violently moaning through the duct tape over her mouth as she attempts to respond with a defiant “Fuck you!”
“Fuck me is it?” He giggles, “You’re the one getting’ fucked bitch – Not me!”
He pauses once more in listening to the music not giving a care to her response. “Maybe I’ll just cut your ass up and feed you to the wolves here in the Black Hills after I suck on your clit. Would you like that?”
Blackstone then snaps back around towards her looking strongly into her eyes, “Like I said, you just didn’t give up. You got too close, too close for my fuckin’ liking. So, you rose up through the hum-drum of the bullshit mind-numbing day to day. This causing me to perked my interest in you. I’ve began to follow you around, taking notes of everything you’re doing, finding patterns, routines, and shit like that. I too have uncovered things about you, seedy things, things better kept on the ‘down-low’, and out of the public eye.”
Raven laughed and then took the same demeanor upon her once more, “I will tell you this, you have proved once and for fucking all, there is no such thing as a ‘good fucking cop.’ Yeah bitch, I have never met a cop who wasn’t on the take, who wasn’t slapping his wife around, who wasn’t blackmailing some skank into sex or worse for something the whore got got doing, and pushing his weight around. A fucking bully with a badge and gun – Nothing more.”
Raven then flashed the scalpel making the reflection dance upon the light given above the surgical lamp above in. She panics once more in thrashing about with no effect on him in the least knowing full well that she is bound securely.
Blackstone slaps her with his right hand with the scalpel still in his hands across her face stunning her as her eyes roll back momentarily. “Now just relax if you can, get into the music, and worry not. I promise that this won’t hurt a bit; A bit of a prick and nothing more.”
He pauses in her relentless response of panic, “Okie Dokie, good then?” Then as he finished speaking, he slammed her head hard to the back of the table stunning her senses once again. He is a powerfully built man. “I don’t usually bang women around, but then again, you’re nothing but a fucking cop, a goddamn bully yourself.” Letting go of her hair momentarily.
“Just returning the favor a tad bit. Hey you remember that woman, you know the one you shoved your night stick up her skirt when you were interrogating her for the murder of that cop buddy of yours that you guys thought might have had something to do with getting his head blown off? Anyways, as you later found out, she had absolutely nothing to do with the killing. It was her boyfriend that fed that fucker some much needed lead. The guy found out that your cop buddy was fucking her. Yeah, you see, I stood on my porch early one morning and saw the whole goddamn thing myself. It was wonderful, really. The fucking cop that couldn’t keep his willy in his pants was sleeping on duty and though he never saw it coming, it made my fucking day. It really did”
Blackstone then grabs another handful of her red and blonde chemically processed short hair like before a moment ago. Holding her head secure as she whimpers through the olive colored duct tape covering her mouth. “Now listen and comprehend if you can, cunt. It will feel like you are slipping into a warm bath, a little light-headed, and then sleepy…”
Raven without hesitation then punctures both of her jugular veins on each side of her neck as the blood begins to spurt out. He then moves down to each side of her inner thighs and does the same to her main arteries there as she thrashes. Arterial spray splatters against his clean shield. He does not blink or flinch in this process.
When he is done, he turns aimlessly away removing his face shield and turning up the music as he drops the scalpel in a stainless steel open tray filled full of sterilizing fluid as her bloody body and jets of raw blood arch about in the air around her.
Her body slows with the drastic loss of blood as she arches her spine and slams against the table until she grows quiet as Raven Blackstone peers into the darkness before him with his back turned. He then removes his gloves without ever looking back to her.
Raven himself slips off into the darkness letting the music continue. He doesn’t need the light to see, he knows this place all too well. With a flick of a switch on the wall, the entire basement grows as black as a moonless night.
Raven Blackstone quietly walks up the wooden staircase without saying another word and opens another door leading into a well lit room before him. The light from the other room momentarily lights up a portion of the stairway and his silhouette slips through the open door, closing it, and the light from behind him. A noise of a talkative cat is barely heard greeting him.
The woman, his latest victim is now still in her own death as her emerald green eyes freeze over in a blanket of death as the song “Deadline” begins to play on as he blood flows from the table and her body into dark pools on the cold concrete floor below.
From the Author;
“I’m not gonna hold nothing back anymore – I’m sick to tears about it. I am not going to worry about offending someone with my creative writing. They are either going to love it, fuck it, or hate it. I just don’t give a shit anymore what people think about me or my writing which is really one of the same. I really don’t.
Listen, I have one life to live and I am going to live it up the way I fucking see fit.” Douglas S. Taylor, circa Feb, 2012
