Sylvie

Refusing to give the man a direct answer, The Cross-Killer picked up a cast iron hook that would normally twist into a wall until it was seated so it could hold heavy items in a normal home.  She picked up a small butane blow torch and started to heat up the hook. “Look there.  See that?  The woman crossed her arms and tossed herself off a twenty-story building.”  She spread some of Noah’s blood on her finger and drew a blood cross on his forehead. “Wait until you hear the interview.”  She held the ring up for Noah to see, the iron red from the heat.  A certain satisfaction welled within the Cross-Killer when Noah started to slowly sob and resign himself to the next part.  She felt and fed off the fear for a few minutes longer, then twisted the burning metal into the hole she’d created. 

Each twist of the ring cauterized the wound as the threads dug into Noah’s flesh and finally came to a stop where the drill had gone deeply into the bone. Noah for his part simply gave up.  He thought about his other limbs and came to the conclusion that at least three more drill episodes just like the one he barely endured were coming.  When the pain turned into a pulsing throb, Noah started crying once more. “In-interview?”  He managed to push the pain from his thoughts and asked Patricia.

Once Patricia felt the heavy fear dissipate, she allowed Noah to listen to the television and how the family and friends of the jumper was actually a very happy person.  How the person worked for a women's crisis center and generally liked taking care of others.  Noah looked away from the screen and at the blood-stained floor. “That is a typical response.  Family doesn’t like to paint a negative picture of their loved one.”

The Cross-Killer danced her way back to the television, hit a few buttons on the recording and brought it back to when the person jumped. “Watch closely, lamb.  See if you can spot the anomaly.”  Patricia went back and picked up the drill and started pressing on Noah’s left leg. “I am not in a super hurry, so just watch.”

Noah kept looking at the floor, actively refusing to look at the person jumping from the building again. “No way.  I don’t honestly care.  What difference does it matter if someone commits suicide?  You are standing there drilling into my body with the intent of killing me.”  Noah felt the fear and hopeless situation creep back into his head and heart.

Instead of depressing the trigger to plunge into the man’s leg, The Cross-Killer walked around and pulled Noah’s head up so he was forced to watch the recording. “It isn’t the suicide that I wanted you to see, although that is very thrilling.”  She let out a sardonic laugh.  Patricia advanced the recording frame to frame and stopped when it appeared a black cloud poured from the jumper's mouth. “That’s what you didn’t see before.  Look closely, now.”  The Cross-Killer shuffled over to the somewhat fuzzy screen and pointed at the four misty-looking arms with razor-sharp claws. “The eyes.”

Noah, with tears still streaming down his face blurrily gazed on the blob. “Th-they are…you…your eyes.”  Noah squeezed his eyes shut and felt the tears wash away from his vision. “Chaotic and hate-filled diamonds…”  He trailed off, wishing he could wake up from the nightmare he was currently in.

Patricia pressed the normal run button and let the other news start playing. “Ah, good you see it.”  She cracked her knuckles, and picked up the drill once more and resumed her duties.  Once more flesh ripped open, blood sprung all over the place and doused them both.  The Cross-Killer leaned into the heavier leg muscles and watched the auger rip out more muscle.  Music to her ears, Patricia listened intently as Noah screamed out in pain once more.  Combined with the dread of the moment, Patricia felt herself grow in power once more. “Good, good…my little lamb.”  She felt Noah go limp and the drill bite into bone once more without him moving. “We can’t have that.”  Patricia finished tunneling into the man’s femur and added a second hook, cauterizing that wound as well.  Swiftly she grabbed one of the five needles she brought with her and jammed it into Noah’s neck.  Within a few seconds he was awake and still in quite a bit of pain. “There. At least we are halfway done.  You are handling it like a champion.”  She wickedly winked one of her diamond eyes. 

Noah felt his heart racing and the pain unrelenting.  He screamed out loud enough that his voice echoed through the whole warehouse in an attempt to regain some control over his body and mind.  He felt the drill get placed on his opposite leg and waited for the pain to begin again, but it never came.  Hearing a small metal chair being scraped across the cement, Noah turned to see Patricia sitting down and watching the television once more. “What now?  You aren’t going to keep up the torture you sadistic bitch?”  Noah carefully worded.

The Cross-Killer shook her head and pointed at the recorded items being played. “You see there are lots of strange happenings going on out there, and my body count keeps them from being…well noticed closely.”  She paused and tapped her rotting bottom lip. “I was the first you know.” The Cross-Killer waited for a response that never came. “Oh, very well.”  She paused to gather her thoughts, “I thought you being the little investigator and conspiracy gentleman you made yourself to be, that my little story would intrigue you.”

Waiting for the sharp pain to become a tolerable throb like before with his arm, Noah opened his eyes and looked at the screen once more. “Why do you care what I know?  This is more of the torture you are planning anyway.”  He sighed, “How long did you keep your other victims alive and terrified with your words along with your actions?”

“Once a detective, always a detective.”  Patricia sat back down in her chair and fluffed her stringy and blood-laden hair. “Your kind always wants to know things.  I mean look at the detectives who are still looking for DB Cooper over a matter of two hundred thousand dollars.  They refuse to give up after what, forty or forty-five years?”  The Cross-Killer licked the blood and meat from her fingers and smiled. “As I said I was the first.”  She pointed at the screen, “There are many others now.”  Patricia noticed that Noah’s eyes had begun to gloss over once more. “Blood loss, hunger and thirst.  So much upkeep for physical bodies.”  She snorted, “Alas, I only have the water from the lake out there, which given your time left should be safe enough.”  She laughed and grabbed an old tin can that once held anchovies, then filled it with the murky lake water. 

Noah grimaced as the mostly algae-infested water went down his dry throat.  Deciding to drag out the time he had left in an effort to maybe find a way out of his situation, Noah relinquished and asked a series of questions. “You said you were the first?  How do you know?  You are right…”  Noah felt residual pain in his leg and grimaced, “...right…I..Um…”  He started crying once more to let the pain run its course.  Sniffling and squeezing the tears from his eyes once more, the man continued. “...Always a detective, what are you?”