Marie pulled out of Jose’s rapidly weakening grip, tried to take a step, and fell to the floor, banging her knees on the hard tiles. She barely noticed as she reeled from the awful thoughts invading her mind.
What’s that on her neck? A hickey. That bitch! That slut!
She’s getting what she needs from some other man. Getting what you could never give.
Fuck her. I don’t care. Never wanted that filthy, nasty puta. Never puts up a fight. Never what I need. Never--selfish bitch!
Jose was so angry, so jealous. So frustrated that Marie never responded to him the way he wanted. The rage swirled over him like a drug, or a poison.
Marie reminded him of someone. A memory surfaced. His first girlfriend.
They kissed and touched, peeled away each other’s clothes and lay back on the bed. It felt okay. She stroked him for a long time, finally let out a sigh. “Come on. Can’t you get it up? What, are you gay?”
He was embarrassed. She laughed at him.
That fucking cunt laughed at him. He backhanded her, climbed on top. Choked her until she almost passed out.
Not laughing anymore, are you bitch?
He grew harder the more she cried. Relished every bruise he beat into her skin, every scream of pain he drew from her throat.
She begged for her life. That only made him realize how much he really did want to kill her.
The power he held in his hands right then . . . . A dark thrill went through him as he squeezed and squeezed her neck. Her hands clawed weakly against his, and the blood vessels in her eyes burst as the cartilage of her throat gave way under his crushing grip.
Her hands fell away. Her body stilled. Her heart slowed, slowed, stopped.
He came harder than he ever had in his life.
Marie pulled at her hair and screamed, desperate to stop the memories, the feelings unfurling inside her, polluting her mind.
So many girls. He preyed on the invisible ones, illegals and runaways. The ones nobody would miss.
She had always been thankful that Jose never came onto her sexually. Now she realized that cruelty was sex for him. Pain, fear--he got off on beating the defiance out of a woman.
She had never shown him any defiance, never given him what he needed for his release. Until today. She crawled across the floor, tried to fight her way up through the haze of his memories. She tried to stand, but her throbbing knees wouldn’t support her.
It didn’t matter. She had to get out of there now, because she knew she hadn’t put him down for long. She could crawl to the car. She could crawl to it and--
“Hey, bitch.”
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