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P.S. This is a horror story. It contains graphic and disturbing images, very disturbing images. If you don't like that kind of thing or it effects you in a negative way please don't read any further.

"Could you sign it, to Murry with all my love?" A strange looking fat guy with bad breath asked.

"How about I just put," I said as I wrote, "To my biggest fan. Yours, Kathy."

"That's great!" He said staring at me with a funny grin as I handed him the book.

As I took the book from the next person I looked down the long line to see if maybe I was going to get to keep my lunch let alone my dinner reservations. Don't get me wrong I love doing book signings. My fans mean a lot to me and most of them are great but lately something has been really creeping me out. I keep getting these long letters from this one guy. It's not the normal creepy stuff a horror writer would get in the mail. You know sloppy letters written in red paint praising my work and Satan all in the same breath. Someone once even sent me a small monkey skeleton. That worried me at first until I realized it was from one of those expensive stores that sells animal bones. Publicly I had to pretend I was appalled. I don't want to encourage that kind of thing but I worked his name into one of my stories in a way that let him, and only him, know I thought it was a pretty cool gift but not to try it again.

This other guy though... His letters look perfectly normal. They come to me in a plain white envelope, type written, single-spaced on clean white paper. The first time I saw one I thought it was from my lawyer. That's what scares me about them. They look so normal that they could be from anybody. Maybe the clean cut businessman five people down the line waiting to get his book signed. Or that guy with the guitar case by the display of my latest book. Hell for all I know they could be from that woman in the middle of the line who looks like Mrs. Cleaver... Nah, I don't think Mrs. Cleaver could write the things this guy did. Not in the detail he wrote them in anyway. It almost had me convinced that he really did the things he claimed to have done. Then I realized that I write about ritualized murder and occult blood sacrifices and the worst thing I've ever done is slap a guy for coming up with ideas that he shouldn't have had on a fifth date never the less a first one.

It still creeped me out though. Why would someone claim to do the things he claimed to have done and even better yet why tell me about it? Was I supposed to sympathize about his problems of not being able to getting a good bone saw now a days? Or how was he was going to trick his dry cleaner into getting the bodily fluids out of his "work" clothes? He even asked me once for some tips on how to dismember his neighbor's cat so he could combine the pieces with human body parts to make the perfect bride. The letter that made me hire a body guard though was the one where he described what he liked to do with helpless little girls. I mean I'm no stranger to kinky sex but some of his ideas would make the Marquee DeSade blush. Not to mention that these are little girls that he was talking about. I have no pity for child molesters. I have a friend who was molested when they were young. I can't even describe the ways it messes up your mind. I hope there's a hell just so that they can burn in it, slowly.

Of course I reported the letters to the authorities. They said there wasn't much they could do. There were no return addresses on the envelopes and the postmarks came from different places each time. I looked up the cities on a map once and they are all from one area so that only narrows it down to about three or four hundred thousand people give or take. After the letter describing his taste for little girls I had them dusted them for fingerprints by a private investigator. The only prints that were readable were the postman's and mine. The private investigator put that down to rubber gloves and postal automation. I really doubt this guy is what he claims to be but at the same time anyone who would even make those claims probably needs some help. Either that or it's just some jerk with way to much time to waste. I keep telling myself he's just some jerk, especially at night.

"Here you go," I said handing a freshly signed book back to it's owner, "I hope you enjoy it."

She looked down at it beaming with happiness and said, "I know I will, I love all your books! Thank you!"

I couldn't help smiling as I watched her walk away and since my eyes were already turned to the right I couldn't help refocusing a few feet closer to look at my bodyguard. For a guy that was mostly muscle he wasn't so bad. In fact he was better then not so bad. Every now and then I smiled to myself as I imagined what he'd look like in speedos or how those big arms might feel around me. When he caught me looking at him he came over.

"You want to break for lunch," Rudy leaned over me and asked quietly.

"Um, I probably should but I'll go for a little longer."

"Ok, you want me to have one of the stock boys run out and get you something from that deli across the street?"

"Yeah, a can of diet whatever and a blueberry yogurt?"

"No problem, I'll have it here in a few minutes."

I reached down to get my purse and as I did I felt him walk away. When I looked up I saw he was talking to some kid with a nametag and giving him money. I couldn't help thinking that this guy definitely needs to stay around a little longer as my hand touched the top of my purse. I was still looking at Rudy and the stock boy when I felt my purse move. Now I'm known to carry a big black purse with almost every thing I could ever need in it from sex toys to chewing gum but it's never moved on it's own before. I froze for a second and then slowly dragged it closer to my chair. It moved more as I dragged it and the weight wasn't right. I wasn't sure if it was heavier or lighter but I've carried this purse around with me for years and I knew it wasn't right. I tried to keep cool and just sign the next person's book. I looked up at the guy who handed me his book and tried to smile but as I took it from him I felt the purse move against my ankle. Chills crawled up my leg and I scooted my chair away from the purse a little. I had no idea what was in there but I didn't want it touching me. I handed the guy his book back and looked at the next person in line. I signed their book and was making nervous chitchat with them when Rudy came back to the table with my snack. He set it down and said, "Take a break for a few minutes so you can eat."

I looked up at him and said, "Yeah maybe that's a good idea."

Then I looked down at the purse, which was still moving. His face went from friendly to all business in two seconds.

"Ok everybody Ms. Mason is going to take a five minute break," Rudy said to the crowd.

A few people at the front groaned but Rudy explained that I had been signing for hours and just needed a few minutes to myself. I took the soda and yogurt and Rudy said, "I'll get your purse for you."

"Thanks," I said with a weak smile.

We walked through the store into the back room trying to look as clam as possible. When the door was closed behind us Rudy said, "I don't know what's in here but it's definitely alive."

As he held the purse by its strap it moved, wiggled and made some kind of noise. Nothing I could recognize but if I had to guess I'd say it was a cross between a can opener and dental surgery with out anaesthetic.

"Maybe we should call the police or something?" I said.

One of the kids that work at the store came out from behind some of the stock shelves and asked what was going on. Rudy told him to ask the manager to come back here then he put the purse on one of the empty shelves. It started to move like crazy and shriek. The kid got a panicked look on his face left in a hurry.

"We're going to call the police but I want it done quietly. Maybe if he doesn't get the reaction he wants he'll give himself away. I'm going to need you to go back out there and pretend this hasn't happened," Rudy said.

I swallowed and said, "I'll do my best."

Then the door opened and the manager came in.

"What's the problem," she asked.

"Someone has either put something in Ms. Mason's purse or taken it and replaced it with this one," Rudy said pointing to the wiggling and squealing purse on the shelf.

"What's in it," the manager asked.

"We don't know," I said.

"And we're not opening it until the police get here but the person who did this may still be in the store so we need this done quietly, understand," Rudy asked.

"Yes of course."

"Good now go out with Ms. Mason and stay with her while she signs. I don't want her alone at the table. I'll take care of the cops."

I walked back out into the store with the manager at my side. The two of us were nervous but we tried to pretend we weren't. I sat down and started signing books again trying not to imagine what it was that was moving around inside my purse. A few minutes later I noticed that there were several guys wandering around the store trying not to look obvious. Three were always near me even though they slowly changed positions and two were always by the front door. My stomach was starting to get tight. I was in no mood to show up on an episode of Cops, The Psycho Special. The tension kept building and it didn't help me that the manager was biting her nails and spitting them out on the floor. Suddenly I heard Rudy's voice coming from behind me.

"Ms. Mason you left your purse in the back," he said as he came over and placed it on the table beside me.

"Thanks," I said looking at him questioningly when I didn't recognize the purse.

"Oh, and don't worry about that other thing, turned out to be nothing," he said in a slightly louder then normal voice.

"Um, ok thanks..."

"You have a phone call," Rudy said to the manager, "I'll stay with Ms. Mason."

"A phone call? Yes, ok good. I'll go get it thanks," she said looking very relieved.

After she left Rudy stood by me and looked through the crowd. In between signings I looked over to see him glaring into the crowd. He had been a firm but more or less unobvious presents in the background before. Now he was standing next to me with his arms folded over his chest looking as big as he could. It wasn't hard to see he was trying to make someone nervous. I couldn't help wondering if he knew who.

It had only been about fifteen minutes since I first felt my purse moving but it felt like hours. I wanted this to be over. I wanted to go back to the nice quiet world of terror that I controlled not the other way around. I was so shook up by this whole thing that Rudy startled me when he leaned over and whispered in my ear.

"Look out into the crowd and pretend that I'm talking about somebody."

I looked out for a minute and then whispered back into his ear pointing with my chin. I have to admit I thought the whole game was stupid until someone actually broke from the line and started to walk quickly towards the door. I saw the two cops by the door walk in front of him and I could hear them talking even though I couldn't hear what they were saying. Then suddenly he tried to push his way past them and the other three cops came up from out of nowhere and grabbed him. Rudy had leaped over the table I was sitting at and joined the party. The scene didn't go unnoticed and it wasn't long before the line had broken up to see what was going on. I couldn't see through the crowd but I could hear him screaming, "It was just a joke ok. I didn't mean nothing."

Even though I could see what was going on I kept staring into the crowd. I couldn't believe he thought it was a joke. Was this the same guy who wrote me those letters? What the hell was in my bag and where's my stuff? I hate not knowing what's going on and being at someone else's hands. Especially when I know they can't be trusted.

"Miss Mason could you sign my book?"

"Sure, it looks like the excitement is over with anyway," I said to him still a little shook.

"Could you make it out to Kitty? That's my girlfriend."

* * *

I only signed a few more books after that. The place had gone crazy and even after it had clamed down the cops wanted to interview everybody they could get their hands on to find out what they saw. Maybe I was still being paranoid but it didn't sound like they thought they had caught their man to me. I tried talking to one of the cops and after I yelled at him he stopped being over protective but he still wouldn't tell me anything of any real use. I was past fear now and heading quickly towards anger. If someone didn't tell me what the fuck was going on I was going to rip some heads off!

"Rudy," I yelled across the room when I saw him.

He bolted over to me fast enough to make me even more paranoid and said, "Is every thing ok?"

"What the fuck is going on? Was that the guy? What was in my purse and where's my stuff!"

"Ok, ok easy... Calm down," Rudy said.

"I don't want to be calm! If I calm down I'm gonna get scared again and I'd rather be angry then scared," I almost screamed at him.

"Let's go in the back room for a minute," Rudy said.

I felt his comforting hand on my shoulder and let him lead me away from the noise and confusion. On our way back we passed one of the kids who worked at the store.

Rudy tapped her on the shoulder and said, "Tell Sargent Rainer that Ms. Mason and I will be in the stock room if we're needed."

"Ok," she said giving him a pretty schoolgirl smile.

I frowned at her in spite of myself before Rudy started walking us into the backroom. He sat me down in a chair and then leaned up against some of the shelves opposite me and said, "What do you want to know?"

"Was that the guy who did it?"

"They aren't sure. He doesn't seem to know what was in your purse," Rudy said looking thoughtful.

"What do you mean," I asked.

"He asked for his tape recorder back. According to him all that was in there was a portable tape recorder and something he called a wiggle toy. He's not really very intelligent."

"What was really in the purse Rudy," I asked.

"The cops found your real bag out by the dumpster. Sargent Rainer has it. He didn't seem to think anything was missing but you'll have to go through it to be sure."

"Rudy, what was in the bag?"

He looked at me very seriously for a while and then said, "You don't want to know, trust me."

I stood up quickly and angrily walked in front of him. I'll tell you what I do and do not want to know! Now tell me what was in that bag or I'm gonna..."

"What," he said looking at me blankly.

I'm tall for a woman and keep in good shape but it was obvious that the only way I could force anything out of him would be to do a cheap impersonation of Mata Harri. While something like that is neither above nor below me I was to angry to do the job correctly so instead I said something stupid.

"Fire you." I regretted the words before I even finished them.

I've never been much of an expert in body language but that sure as hell seemed like a hurt look on his face if I ever saw one.

"Fine, I'll tell Sargent Rainer on my way out and he can assign one of his men to stay with you until you get a replacement," he said as he started to move away from me.

I caught his arm before he was two steps away from me and said, "No, please, I'm sorry I didn't mean it. I just don't like being treated like a child."

He turned back to face me and looked at me for a moment. Then he said in a quiet voice, "They were kittens, not even days old. They had been mercilessly tortured."

"H-how," I stupidly asked.

"One had died by the time we found it, one had been skinned alive, another had half of its internal organs hanging out. Another was, had, showed signs of sexual assault. They were all in agony. The bottom of the bag had been water proofed somehow so the blood wouldn't leak out. They think the dead kitten had drowned in it... Feel like an adult now?"

"A little to much," I admitted weakly. "And they don't think the guy they have is the one who did this?"

"No," he said. "Once they got his name they checked into his background. He lives at a local institution for the mentally retarded. He's totally nonviolent and wouldn't even know how to do those kinds of things. When the police told him what was in the bag he started crying and calling them liars. He had a pet cat named Kitty that was pregnant. According to him a friend of his took it to the vet a few days ago. They're checking on the friend but no one seems to know who he..."

I turned pail and asked him, "Wait, what did you say?"

"There's very little information on this friend. All we have is the name Georgie which probably isn't even..."

"No! No, the cat! What was the cat's name," I asked about to cry.

"Kitty, he named the cat Kitty, why?"

"Oh, my God. Rudy, the man who did this was here. He wrote the letters and he was here."

I felt dizzy; tears were streaming down my face. He really did those things he wrote about to me and he was standing next to me twenty minutes ago. I signed a Goddamn book for him!

Rudy grabbed me by the shoulders and said, "What are you talking about?"

"Remember in the letters. He talked about mutilating cats. Then after the cops had the first guy someone came up to me and asked me to sign his book. He said it was for Kitty, his girlfriend!"

I put my arms around him, pulled myself close and put my head on his shoulder sobbing uncontrollably. You're going to tell me a strong independent woman shouldn't need a man to comfort or protect her? Well, a smart person knows when and with whom they can be vulnerable. Nobody's made of concrete and I pity them if they are.

Rudy's arms were around me rubbing my back and holding my head. If I weren't so terrified it would have been a lot more enjoyable. As it was it felt pretty good and after a few minutes I regained control of myself.

"What are we going to do," I asked looking into his eyes, his arms still tight around me.

"You're going to go and wash your face," he said wiping away a tear, "And then we're going to go and tell Sargent Rainer what you just told me."

"Sounds like a plan," I said sniffling.

"You ok," he asked.

"Yeah, sorry about that," I said smiling weakly. "I guess when I realized what had happened it was to much for me but I don't usually fall apart like that."

"Seeing what actually happened I don't think anyone could blame you for your reaction."

My hands were on his broad shoulders and his were around my waist holding us very close together. I looked into his eyes for a minute and then leaned in and kissed him. He squeezed me tighter to him and flowed right into the kiss. My lips opened and our tongues met in a slow gentle caress. After a minute or so I came up for air and said smiling, "You know for doing such a good job back there I was going to give you a raise but I see I already have. MMM, and a nice sized one at that."

He smiled and looked a little embarrassed so I said, "Don't worry seeing what just happened I don't think anyone could blame you for your reaction."

He chuckled for a second and then kissed me again. I made it a short kiss and said, "As much as I don't want to we'd better get back to business."

"Yeah, good point," he agreed despite himself.

He let his arms fall to his side and I walked over to the bathroom. I was feeling pretty good despite what had happened until I caught sight of myself in the mirror. I was almost surprised he kissed me at all. Eyes, red and puffy, mascara running, hair a mess. I looked like hell! Where was my bag now that I needed it? That made me think of those poor kittens. The picture in my mind was probably worse then reality but I'm pretty glad I'd never know for sure. Bad enough I had to put both of us through that description I don't want a real life comparison.

I finished cleaning myself up realizing that I'd have to go back out there and face the world with out any make up. Isn't my favorite idea but there wasn't much I could do about it. Oh well he was going to see me like this sooner or later might as well be now.

I came out of the bathroom quietly hoping not to draw to much attention to my appearance. He saw me and smiled.

"That's much better I like a girl to have a clean face and a pretty smile."

I smiled weakly despite myself and said, "Oh stop it. You're just being protective and fatherly."

"Either you have no idea what I'm thinking or you had an unusually affectionate father."

"Oh really? Well don't expect to get any further then second base on the first date," I teased.

"Don't worry what I have in mind doesn't call for more then that and a coil of rope," he said leading me towards the door.

"Rope? Who's it for you or me," I asked smiling as we walked out into the store.

"Depends do you want to stay on second or go to third?"

"Wait a minute," I said thinking out loud, "First is...uh, and second is...uh huh, and third is... Fine with me."

By now we were back in the middle of the madness. Things had quieted down some but not much.

"We'll talk about this later," he said whispering out of the corner of his mouth to me.

"You bet your sweet ass we will," I said as I grabbed his.

"You're very lucky I'm on the clock right now or I'd do things to you that would get us arrested in three states."

I was about to admit to having been kicked out of those states before we had even met when Sargent Rainer came into view.

"Sarg," Rudy yelled.

"Yeah?" He said turning towards us.

"Kathy thinks she saw the guy we're after."

"Where," he asked with a surprised look on his face.

"It was right after you caught the first guy," I explained.

Then I went into the whole story again for him. He hadn't read the letters so I told him about the cat reference and he seemed to think I was right. He also wanted to check out the neighborhood that the guy we caught lived in. In his letters to me he did say the neighbor's cat. Seemed to easy to me but I suppose it had to be checked out. After that they wanted me to go over to the police station and talk to a sketch artist. I just wanted to go back home and take a hot bath but Rudy thought it would be a good idea and he offered to buy me dinner afterwards so I gave in.

Ever try giving a description of someone you saw for only five minutes? Now try being distracted as hell for those five minutes. Doesn't make things easier. I didn't get much farther then height, approximate weight and hair color before I started to doubt myself. I thought he had a moustache and a funny looking nose but I wasn't sure why it was funny looking. The whole thing was very frustrating and I was glad when it was over. I met Rudy back out in the waiting room and we went to find a place to eat. It was still early in the evening not even 8 o'clock yet but it still amazes me how some parts of the city can get so deserted. We hadn't walked a block away from the police station and there wasn't anything but parked cars and street lights as far as the eye could see.

"So what type of food are you in the mood for," Rudy asked me as we walked.

We were walking side by side. I was close to him but I could have used the comfort of his arm around me. Somehow though I couldn't get up the nerve to ask for it and for some reason he wasn't offering. I'm sure it didn't mean anything but I was to tired and mind numb to even think about being assertive. I just wanted it.

"Would you mind if we just got some Chinese take out and went back to my place? I'd feel a little safer there."

"Sure," he said smiling at me.

Then he stopped walking and pulled me to him. His arms hugged me tightly as he kissed me deeply. It was just what I needed to put my mind in order and relax. His hand had moved down from my back to squeeze my ass. Suddenly he moaned into my mouth and I felt his hand quickly move off of my body. He seemed to be holding his side and then he went limp on me! Not expecting it I couldn't hold his weight and we both fell over to the ground. I sat there stunned for a second and then rolled Rudy on his back. He was out cold. I shook him gently to try and wake him but it was no good. I felt along his side where I thought his hand went and sure enough there was a small dart of some kind. I pulled it out and then looked around the street. There was no one around anywhere. I tried to scream but when I opened my mouth nothing came out. My heart started to beat faster and faster and it seemed like every shadow was moving towards me. I could feel panic starting to over take me. I grabbed Rudy by the arms and started to drag him into a doorway when I heard a sound in front of me. Looking up I saw a figure coming towards me. Whoever it was had on a long coat and there was a gun in his hand. I dragged Rudy past the doorway I had forgotten about in hopes of getting away when I stumbled and fell flat on my ass! When I looked up the person with the gun was standing right in front of me! He looked down at me for a second or two and then pointed the gun at my forehead. I couldn't move. I couldn't breath! I have no idea how long we stayed like that, it felt like forever. Then he smiled and pulled the trigger. I heard the bang and even saw a small flash from the gun but I didn't feel anything. That's when I realized it was a fake gun. Anger welled up in me so strong I didn't even think! I jumped up from the sidewalk and attacked him! I screamed, beat him with my fists and kicked him until I felt a pain in my leg. At first it just hurt, then I felt strange and I staggered back and passed out on the sidewalk.

* * *

The next thing I felt made a hang over seem like fun. For a second I was glad I didn't get to eat dinner. I had the feeling if I did it was only going to end up decorating the floor. Very slowly I opened my eyes and realized that the heavy feeling was more then just sickness. I was manacled to the wall by heavy chains and thick metal bracelets that were locked shut. As my head slowly came into focus I saw that I was in a small dimly lit room. It was painted an ugly green color that was filthy from dirt and water stains. I was laying on one of only four objects in the room, a bed. The other three were a small desk, a chair and a pot of some kind... When I tried to sit up my head started reeling. I put my hand up to my forehead to try and stop the pounding but that only made it worse. I lay back down again and fell asleep hoping it was all some kind of bad dream.

When I woke up again the pounding had turned from a group of angry workmen bashing my head with ten-pound sledgehammers to a headlock with a handful of noogies. Annoying but at least I could think straight and sit up. The bed was a cheap excuse for a night's rest when it was new. The mattress was thinner then a few of my winter blankets and a hell of a lot dirtier. The chains weren't as heavy as I first thought but that didn't make me any happier to see them still tightly shackled to my ankles. I saw from their length that I could reach the desk and maybe the pot if I stretched but not the door. One yellow light bulb in the center of the ceiling was all that gave me light but I couldn't see the switch... I slowly got up off the bed and had to stop to steady myself when I was on my feet. Whatever it was that guy had used to knock me, us! Rudy, where was Rudy? There was a little window in the door, just a square hole with rusty bars across it. I rushed forward to look out of it forgetting the chains that almost pulled my feet out from under me. I fell forward and hands first against the door. By stretching the chains and my body to the limits I could just about see out the window in the door. There was nothing. The same guy who decorated my room had done the rest of the building. More puke green water stained paint and emptiness. A few puddles of water a column or two here and there to support the building and a couple of doors. Outside of that all I could see was black... So I did what any sensible person would do. I screamed my head off until my throat was sore. I screamed and cried when I couldn't scream. I was sure Rudy was dead and whoever had done this was saving me for rape, torture and mutilations (not necessarily in that order).

When I couldn't scream or cry anymore I leaned against a wall and slumped down to the floor. Before I put my head on my knees and passed out from exhaustion I saw that my ankles were raw and bloody from the shackles. This was too much. It was all just too much.

When I woke up I was laying on the bed. Did I crawl there myself or did someone put me there? I sat up on the edge of the bed and pressed my face deep into my hands hoping I could somehow just wipe the whole experience from my mind but it was there when I looked at the door again. My throat was still sore from screaming so I asked in a quiet voice, "Hello? Is anybody there?" There was a faint echo but that was all the answer I got back. I started to cry again when I heard something. I froze in my tracks and didn't make a sound. My ears strained so hard a pin drop could have deafened me. I got up and strained to look out the door window but there was the same nothing that there was out there before. Still I did hear something. I looked from every angle I could, the shackles digging into my sore ankles all the time. I was desperately trying to make forms out of the water stains and shadows on the walls. Looking into the darkness hoping there was something there. There was nothing.

"Please," I cried more to myself than anyone, "Please someone help me."

Just then a smiling face popped up into the window and said, "You said the magic word!"

I know it's the cheasiest clichÈ in the horror business but it still scared me half to death. In the right setting anything could be scary. Even the cutest kitten could look creepy and this guy was no kitten. Kittens...

I jumped back and flattened myself against the wall of my cell. From my breathing you might have thought I had just run a ten-second minute. We just stared at each other like that for a while. Neither of us saying a word. Finally I couldn't take it.

"WHAT! What do you want from me?" I screamed at him.

He just smiled. I was finally able to look at him having calmed down just enough to see straight. He was more or less just a guy. Shaggy mid-length black hair, dark clothes, not to handsome, not too ugly, a little taller then usual but not much.

"Do you still take on free-lance assignments," He asked.

"W-what kind of assignments?"

"Don't get smart with me! Writing assignments."

I looked at him blankly and said, "Huh?"

"I need you to write a story for me."

"You did all this to get me to write you a story? You terrorize me, kidnap me, and kill Rudy all for a story!"

He looked at me calmly with a cool detachment and plainly said, "Yes."

I was dumbfounded. I didn't know what to think or say. Does that mean that he really did kill Rudy?

"W-what did you do to Rudy?" I asked.

"I wouldn't concern myself with him if I were you. He doesn't have anything more to worry about. You on the other hand are in a whole different situation wouldn't you agree?"

He got an eager distrustful look on face when he said that last part.

"Uh, yeah..." I said quietly inching myself further away from him along the wall.

"I want you to write a story about a girl for me. Create a character for me. Make her something like Julie from your book Magnetic Storm. She has to be a new character though! Create her just for me! Make her a witch, a real one."

"Uh huh..." I said carefully.

I stared at him trying to figure out what this was all about. The seconds seemed like hours until her suddenly got mad. He pounded on the door and screamed, "Get writing!" Then he just stormed away.

All I could do was stare at the little window in the door. After a few minutes I moved over to the bed and sat down. I sat there for a while just trying to understand and believe that this was really happening when I saw him peek at me through the window. He was cautious at first but when he saw I saw just sitting there his whole head popped into the window and he got this horrible angry look on his face.

"What the hell are you doing," he screamed and pounded on the door, "Get to work!"

When I just stared at him with a wide-eyed expression of disbelief he opened the door and came in. I scrambled up on the bed and tried to back away from him as he came closer. When I reached the end of the chains I started to pull on them even though they were cutting into me. He grabbed me and pulled me off the bed. Then he threw me down into the chair and held me there until I stopped struggling. He had his left arm wrapped tightly around me as he grabbed me under the chin with his right hand. It pressed deep into my face distorting it painfully. He forced me to look at the little manual typewriter that was on the desk in front of me.

"Now you get to fucking work or I swear to God I'll lose my temper with you," he said through clenched teeth in a quiet unsteady voice right in my ear.

"Ok ok, I'll type anything you want just tell me what you want!"

He let go of me and started to pace behind me. He could only go a few steps in either directions but it was enough to make me nervous as hell.

"I already told you what I wanted I can't believe you're this dumb!"

"You want me to write you a girlfriend," I said.

He turned to me and yelled, "Don't say it like that! It makes it sound so stupid! Just do it!"

Then he stormed out of the room, slammed the door and locked it shut. I saw him look back at me through the little window. He looked like he was going to say something but instead he just growled like some animal before he disappeared into the darkness.

I looked back at the typewriter. I could still feel the impressions his fingers made in my face. I stared at the keys for a few minutes and then started to write more out of fear then anything else. The best I could do was to describe psycho boy's girlfriend. It was a list of things with a few adjectives tossed in for good measure. Bedroom eyes, soft red lips, long black hair... On and on. When I was done I flung myself on the bed and passed out again.

Later, I don't know how long, could have been a minute or a year, I woke up to see lover boy reading what I had written. I didn't like the idea that he could just appear out of nowhere like that. I decided that next time before I went to sleep I'd put something in front of the door. Something that would wake me up before he came in if nothing else.

"This is good," he said, "But where's the rest of it?"

"What?" I asked.

"I told you I wanted a story. Something I can enter. This is just a description. A good description... I can't wait to meet her but it's just a description."

"What?" I said in complete confusion.

He gets an angry look on his face, leans over at me and says, "They make you out to be such an intellectual when they interview you but you're just another stupid fuck like the rest aren't you."

I looked back at him dumb founded which I guess only proved his point. He raged slamming his fists against the wall and then left quickly slamming the door behind him. I stared at the typewriter and then put my face in my hands and cried.

Hours later I heard something over by the door. When I looked through the dim light I saw something being shoved underneath it. When it was just about all the way through it wiggled back and forth. When I didn't jump to grab it right away it wiggled faster. I cautiously sneaked over and grabbed it. It was typing paper folded in half. I opened it not knowing what to expect. Inside in almost unreadable handwriting was some kind of plot outline for a story. I read through it and with each new word I felt the panic inside me grow. The female character he had me create was supposed to be some kind of witch who was bringing her true love over from another dimension. She didn't open some nice neat swirling portal of energy between worlds. No, not this guy's fantasy, she used kiddy pools full of blood and whatever organic matter she had at hand for her side of the gate. If I read his outline correctly his suggestion was a dog, two cats and the postman. They were to be cut open and bled into the kiddy pool. Then to that mix several pounds of moist earth was to be mixed in until it formed a thick bloody mud. After that the animals and the postman were to be dumped in but not whole. Their organs were put in separately and their flesh was stripped from their bones. All of it swirling around like some thick soup that she would cast her spell over and he would rise from. On his side it was just a simple kiddy pool filled with water. He would lay in it and bleed from a dozen wounds until she brought him over to her. The blood and the flesh would reform itself into him on the other side.

"Do you understand now?" He asks in a restrained sing song voice.

"No, what's all this supposed to get you? It's still just a story."

"You don't have to understand!" He screams as he bangs loudly on the door. "Just do what I tell you to or..."

He suddenly got quiet and I heard him muttering to himself as if he was thinking over something. Then I heard the latch move and he threw the door open. I tried to move away from him but he grabbed me and pinned me against the wall. His body pressed up against mine filled me with almost as much disgust as his breath.

"It's important that you understand this but I'm only going to tell you once. I don't belong in this world I never have. The only place I've ever felt comfortable is in your books with your characters. It's almost like I fell out of one of your stories. Now you're going to create this world and then I'm going to enter it..."

I didn't know what to say. How do you reason with someone like this?

"If it will motivate you at all then I'll tell you that your body guard isn't dead but if I don't get what I want soon he will be."

"How do I know that he's still alive," I asked.

"It doesn't really matter if you believe me or not," he said and then he moved his face closer to mine. "Don't think I won't kill you. Don't think I won't chop you up into chunks and fuck your cold dead ass. Maybe I'll cut your pussy up into one of those nice neat rectangles. Then I'll stick it in the shrink-wrapped packaging for those rubber cunt sex toys. Wouldn't that be funny? Then at least some guy could get some real pussy for his eighty bucks. I doubt he'd enjoy it as much as I would though..."

Then he let up on me some but didn't release me.

"I'll tell you what. I'm feeling generous so I'll give you some proof," he said with an evil grin. Then he left the room and locked the door behind him. I stood there dazed. I felt dizzy and a little faint. How could this really be happening?

A few minutes later I heard a scream. It was loud and male. I wasn't sure at first but then I heard him scream my name. It was Rudy. Then suddenly he went quiet again. I strained my ears to hear anything. There was nothing. Then a door opened and soon I saw him walking towards my cell. I backed away as he came to the window.

"He's quite the brave little soldier your friend. You wouldn't believe what I had to do to him to get him to scream your name."

"You dirty..." For once the words just wouldn't come to me. I couldn't think of anything vile or despicable enough to call him. No word in the English language seemed ugly or insulting enough to describe him. Tears streamed down my face as I stood there helpless.

"You would be better off putting your talents towards your only hope of freedom. You see we can't stay here long. They'll find me eventually so either we do this my way or I kill you both, have a little fun and then go on vacation. Another State, maybe another country, who knows. It would be interesting to take my little show on the road don't you think?"

"I'll do it. I'll write your story. Just don't hurt anyone anymore..."

"That's a good girl. Now write everything but the scene where I pass over into her dimension. We'll do that together. I'll be back in a couple of hours. You'd better be ready for me!"

Then he simply left. Quietly closing a door behind him like some husband or father going off to work in the morning.

I sat down in front of the typewriter, pulled the chair closer to the desk and tried not to think about the chains that weighted down my ankles or Rudy laying in a room a few doors down possibly near death. I just tried to concentrate on what I thought psycho boy wanted. I pretended he was just another publisher giving me a deadline that I had to make. Given the time I had there was no way I was writing War and Peace. I just hope Psycho boy knew that you only get what you pay for. Considering what I was up against I thought it was a convincing little story. I made his girlfriend as dark and goulish as I could. Filled with sex and blood lust. An evil witch who used her powers to bring nothing but pain and misery on those who were unlucky enough to be called her enemy. Her true love was taken away from her when she was young. She spent years drawing blood and learning the arcane mysteries to find him. She'd sit naked covered in her victim's blood sifting her long nailed fingers through their entrails so she could look in to dimension after dimension until she found him. When she finally found where he was she used nothing less then the purist virgin's blood to intoxicate a minor daemon so she could steal the spell she needed to bring him back over into her world. Gathering the material she needed to complete the spell was no problem. Her dank dungeon laboratory was filled with dead and dying animals. She had one of her worthless slaves construct the pool and fill it with damp earth. She added the animals blood, flesh and organs, tossed in the bloody bones and then looked at her slave with an evil grin. She seduced him with her eyes. Then while he stood hypnotized waiting for a kiss from her perfect lips she slit his throat carefully so as to not lose a drop of his blood. She pushed him into the pool and then tied a rope around his legs and hoisted him above the pool so that his blood would drain faster. A deep slash with a sharp knife from his neck to his groin helped with that. When he was bled dry she stripped naked, cut off his head, cracked open his skull and plucked out his eyes and brains. She dismembered his body and tossed in his still warm organs and flesh that she tore from the bone with building excitement. After stirring the mess with a leg bone to make sure it was thoroughly mixed she stared down into it. Then she reached for the knife again and cut herself deep in the palm of her left hand. She was so covered with blood and gore that the only way you could even tell that she was wounded was because this blood was free flowing and shiny while the rest of it was drying and flaking off her pale skin. When she was done with all this she arranged the bones of her murdered slave in the shape of a man and sat cross-legged in between them. The muddy gore flowed up between her legs and clung to her sex exciting her even further. She was as vile and despicable a creature as I could imagine... It sickened me to create her. It sickened me even more because I knew that psycho boy would love her even more then I hated her. I didn't want him to be happy. He didn't deserve happiness.

I got up the point when she was ready to cast the spell to bring her lover back to her. I knew he wanted me to wait for him to write this part. I was tempted to do it anyway just to spite him but I was scared at what he might do, not only to me but also to Rudy. I hoped that what I imagined was worse then what was really happening to him.

Instead of dwelling on that I decided to start something else. I took out a clean sheet of paper and started writing about the ritual that he would have to do to prepare himself for the trip across dimensions. Here I felt no need to be timid or gentle. I finally had a place to vent some of my anger. I explained how he and his vile lover enjoyed sexual pain. Using knife games during sex their blood would mingle and so this was the way that they were linked. This was also the how they would be reunited. He would have to make 69 lacerations over his entire body. Then he must cut two strips of skin from each thigh. After that he must lay in the pool and slit his forearms deeply from wrist to elbow. As his blood mixed with the water in the pool the spell on the other side of the dimension would allow his spirit to cross over. Her magic would recreate his body from the bloody muck she sat in. The first thing he would see when he sat up would be her.

I thought that would have made me feel better. I was as hurtful to him as I could be and thought of doing worse but I couldn't... This was bad enough. I didn't really think he would do it though. Murdering and inflicting that kind of pain on someone else I was sure he could do but this? I didn't imagine anyone was capable of what I just wrote. I was about to tare it up and write something more plausible. I was afraid he would see that and get angry with me but he came back before I had the chance. Suddenly his face was at the little window.

"Have you done as you were told or is it time for me to kill you," he asked.

"I did it. Right up to the point you wanted me to stop."

"Very good, now hand it through the door."

I gathered up the story except the last part rolled it in half and fitted it through the bars.

"What's that," he asked pointing at the exact thing I didn't want him to see.

"It's nothing just a part I want to revise. It's not ready yet."

"I'm afraid we don't have time for second drafts. You can put a polish on it later," he said as he made give it to me gestures with his hand.

When I hesitated he got impatient and said, "I won't ask you twice. I'll just come in there and take it along with one of your fingers... Or maybe a few toes."

Without thinking I quickly grabbed it and forced it through the bars.

"It's really not right for this story. I'll work on a revision while you read that."

He didn't say a word, he just added it to the back of the pile, went and sat on the floor against one of the support pillars and started reading. I quickly went back to the typewriter and tried to rework that part. I started to write out another idea but I didn't get two sentences into it before I realized that it was lame. For the story to work the male character had to be as vile as the female. He would have to do something just like what I described or the spell wouldn't seem plausible... I wrote something up anyway in case he went off the deep end.

Eventually he came to the door. I looked through the window and tried to read the look on his face. It wasn't angry but it sure as hell wasn't happiness.

"You should have waited for me to write this last part. Now it may not work," he said.

"Of course it won't work you maniac you can't enter fiction. It's not real! There's no other dimensions, there's no girl waiting for you. It's just a story!"

"How do you know that? Until today you didn't really believe that someone like me existed. I was just fiction to you until I showed you the reality. Now I'm real but I'm going to go back to being fiction!"

"You can't do this," I said frightened of him in a whole different way.

"You don't think I can do this do you," he said waving the story at me.

"No, I..."

"What am I not good enough for one of your characters? Don't think I belong in your world? Well I'll show you!"

Then he shoved the whole story through the bars and stormed out of my sight. It came flying through; pages raining all over like confetti. I tried to leave them where they were. I wanted to burn them or rip them up in a million pieces but in the end I gathered up all the pages and kept them close to me at all times from then on.

A few minutes after that he came crashing back into my view. He was naked and he had a huge shiny Bowie knife in his hand. My first fear was that he was going to come at me but I couldn't have been more wrong. He dragged the blade across the bars making a clacking sound and said, "I'll show you, nothing will keep me from her. NOTHING!"

"You can't do this," I said close to tears again.

"No," he asked as he looked at me and then the long sharp blade.

He turned it so that the edge faced him and then drew it across his check. As deep red slit opened up and bled down his face he said, "One."

He walked away from the door calling out numbers to me. I strained to look in the direction he went. There was a small pool there, just large enough for a full-grown man to lay completely inside it.

"Finish the story," he yelled to me between cuts number twenty-five and twenty six. "And read it out loud as you type!"

I sat down at the typewriter and lifted my hands to the keys. They were shaking so badly I had to make fists to regain control. I went back into the description of the girl sitting in the pool of bloody mud. She raised her hands and started to say the spell out loud in some unknown tongue. As I was describing how the disgusting mess started to boil around the bones I heard a loud grunt. I got up and moved closer to the window. A long strip of flesh flew by my face and wrapped itself around on of the bars. It was thick with blood and oozed down the door like a snail leaving its trail. I felt my stomach churn just in time to grab for the pot before I threw up. I hadn't eaten since this started so all I had to bring up was bitter stomach acids. The taste of that and the flap of skin kept me woozy even after the heaving stopped.

"Some Goddess of horror you are. To bad your fans could see you now," he laughed.

"You sick twisted bastard," I said as I wiped my chin with the back of my hand.

"Just get back to fucking work! Or I'll show you how right you are," he raged at the top of him lungs.

I stumbled back into the chair and started to write again. I yelled out loud through tears how his flesh was reforming on the other side of the dimension. How she was there waiting for him with an evil lustful ache. I heard loud grunts and then a small splash.

"It's working," he said. "I can feel it, so quiet between dimensions."

There was nothing for a few minutes, silences and then suddenly very quietly he said, "I can see her. She's so beautiful... So happy to see me..."

How long does it take someone to bleed to death? I wasn't really sure but I knew that the wounds he made were pretty large. If he wasn't dead he was close to it. Suddenly it enraged me that he was happy when he died. I was the one who made him happy! I know it makes no sense but with a vengeance I flew back to the typewriter and added another part to the story. I wrote about the weeks that followed his arrival in the new dimension. How they had their passionate vile sex every day. Taking turns branding or cutting each other's flesh. Bathing each other in fresh blood and licking it off their sweaty skin. Each time becoming more and more passionate. Escalating in their sick and twisted depravity until once in a crazed sex and blood lust frenzy she cut a little to deep with the knife. To far gone in her own insanity she could only take pleasure in his bubbling blood. Afterwards when she realized what she had done she tried every spell she knew to reanimate his dead lifeless body but right in front of her eyes it fell back into the pile of bloody mud and dead flesh that it was formed out of. In a fit of grief she took her own life in a slow and painful way. The two of them ending up in a part of hell so painful to them that human experience has no words to describe to it, no feelings to relate to it. No matter what happened to me there's no way I would leave characters like that floating around.

When I finished the story I pulled the paper out of the typewriter and laid it on top of the rest of the pile. I stared at it feeling my stomach wretch again. Instead of throwing up I slammed my fists down on top of the story as if I could beat it up or pound it out of existence. All I did was bruise my hands and exhaust myself. Finally I grabbed the pile of papers and hugged them to me like some deformed mutated child of mine that disgusted me. I couldn't love it but couldn't abandon it either. Then I slumped over on the bed and passed out again.

I opened my eyes to hear my name being called softly outside the door. It took me a second to realize it was Rudy's voice. I jumped up off the bed and reached for the door. To my surprise when I went to lean up against it to try and peer out the window it swung wide open. There lying on the floor was Rudy. A pile of torn clothes and yellow and black bruises but he was alive and more or less conscious. I called out to him and he turned his head slowly to look at me. His nose was broken and he had two black eyes. I got to the end of the chains and strained to reach him. My fingertips barely touched his hair. I could feel it was stiff with his blood.

"Rudy... I'm chained to the wall. I can't reach you."

"Under the type writer," Rudy weakly said.

I quickly went back to the typewriter and stared at it. Then I grabbed it in both hands and picked it up, nothing underneath it but the desktop. Then I looked at the bottom of the typewriter. There taped to the bottom was a key.

"That God damned fucking asshole," I screamed as I tore it off and then undid the locks.

My ankles were red and even bleeding in a few spots but I didn't give it a thought as I ran over to Rudy. I looked down at him stunned. He was a mess. His legs were broken probably in more then one place. I already mentioned his face and the bruises but there were also cuts small and large here and there as well as a few wires coming from underneath the skin in sensitive areas of his body. I was afraid to touch him. It broke my heart to not only see him like this but to know it was my fault. I caressed the side of his head gently and my hand came away wet with blood.

"A parting gift from our friend over there," Rudy said.

"You need a doctor."

"My medical insurance won't cover this," he said weakly.

I tried to smile at that but I was having trouble finding my sense of humor.

"I'll be right back. There's gotta be a phone or someone around somewhere."

He shook his head just that fraction of an inch to show he agreed. I got up to go but I still couldn't take my eyes off of him.

"Go I'll be ok, hurry," he said.

Somehow took more strength to leave the room then it did to stay but somewhere I found it. Still clutching the story in my hand I ran for the door that seemed to lead to the outside. When I opened the door I saw that we were in the middle of an abandoned warehouse complex. There were five or six buildings like the one we were in. They all had broken windows and obviously haven't been used for years. On the building across from us there was a pay phone. I ran like mad for it almost tripping over my own feet twice. When I got up to it I grabbed the hand piece and then dialed 911. I couldn't believe my luck when I heard a voice on the other end. That sick bastard hadn't thought of everything. Or at least I thought so until I tried to speak and realized they couldn't hear me. The hand piece had been cracked open and the part you talked into was gone. In my rush to get help I didn't notice. I didn't hang up the phone I slammed it against the side of the booth and let it hang there as I turned to look around me. There was nothing but ruined buildings and garbage until I looked on the side of the building I was in. There was a car! It didn't look more then five or ten years old. It had to be that bastard's who kidnapped us. I ran up to it and tried the doors but they were all locked. The key had to be where ever he left his clothes. I shuttered at the thought of having to go back and search the place. I was afraid what I might find but I thought of Rudy. Running back around to the door I went in and back to Rudy. He was still where I left him and in no better shape.

"We're in the middle of nowhere but he left his car I've got to find the keys," I said.

Rudy looked back at me as if he didn't even see me. I could see by the look on his face that he was close to passing out. I dimly remembered from something that my mother had told me that concussion victims should be allowed to sleep. Not knowing weather I was doing the right thing or not I tried to keep him awake. I slapped his face gently and said, "Rudy, Rudy wake up! I found his car but I need the keys." He seemed to wake up a little more but I knew this wouldn't work for long. He needed help and soon!

"Don't move," I heard from behind me.

I froze. It couldn't be him. He's dead. Or was he? I didn't look at the body when I went by I was to busy running for help. We are in the middle of fucking nowhere. There wasn't a soul around but the three of us two minutes ago... Oh God you can't do this to me twice. Please not again. Please I beg you!

"Police, freeze," the voice continued.

"Oh thank God," I said crying. "I'm Kathy Mason Rudy is badly hurt. Please he needs help now."

"Where's the kidnapper?"

"He's in the pool to your left, dead, isn't he?"

Oh my God what the hell is going on here? Was this guy really a cop? Was the killer really dead? I had run out of fear. I had to know what was behind me no matter what. I slowly turned my head around to see a cop with his gun pointed in my direction trying to look into the darkness to his left. My eyes were used to this light, I had been in the darkness for an entire day but the cop's eyes were probably still adjusting.

"Please," I said, "Call for back up, put me in handcuffs. Whatever you have to do but call for an ambulance. Rudy could be dying!"

I don't know weather it was against cop protocol or something but he looked at me for a second and then still holding his gun out he radioed his partner and called for back up and an ambulance. A few seconds later his partner came in with one of those high powered flashlights. As I turned to Rudy I heard a good lord from behind me.

"It's gonna be ok now Rudy," I said stroking his cheek softly, "Just hang on."

He smiled at me and everything was all down hill from there.

* * *

They wanted to keep me for questioning. No one was really sure what had happened and I was the only one who was in any shape to talk. There was no way I leaving Rudy. It took some loud angry words and a threat that I couldn't have possibly carried out to a cop at least twice my size before they got that through their heads. Well that and the fact that Rudy was friends with most of the guys that came as back up.

I rode with Rudy to the hospital and while the doctors were working on him I did my best to tell the cops what had happened. They wanted to take the story as evidence but I didn't see the point. The killer is dead, there were no leads to follow or suspects to get away. It was clear that this guy worked alone. Once they knew who he was they found out some more grisly things about him but I didn't want to hear the details. It was over as far as I was concerned.

There was still the story. I hadn't let it get out of my sight in the weeks that followed Rudy's recovery. I put it in an envelope and that envelope inside a little leather case that I wore with a strap around my shoulder. As it became clear that Rudy would be almost as good as new in a few months I knew that I would never recover in one way. In that disgusting little cell I had written my last horror story. I was a minor writer with a small but decent following before but the press picked up on the story and now my sales had quadrupled. I didn't want any part of it. Still I was out of work now so I finally listened to my publisher. He had been begging for even a synopsis of the story I was forced to write. It did my heart good to hear him grovel into my answering machine. Finally when he added enough zeros to his bid I called him and we made a deal. Rudy and I spent the rest of his recovery hiding from the press on a small island in the sun. We may go to Paris this summer. Or we may stay right here... It's very pretty here. Even at night it doesn't really get very dark.