Eternally Yours

Becky Lewis sighed. Eight o’clock at last. After a grueling eleven-hour shift, she was beat. The coffee shop she worked in, Monica’s, was open late Fridays. She had not served a single customer since six-thirty- and she was being paid double! The joke was on them anyhow. Becky had spent the time working on her college material. Only nineteen, she had plenty on her plate, trying to keep up a night course and full-time job to pay her already accumulating bills.

She double-checked everything was shut down and grabbed her bag. Heading for the door, she glanced around then switched the lights off, then carefully locked the door and activated the security system.

Her house was a ten-minute walk up the road so when the view from her window showed a promising day she had decided to leave her car at home and stretch her legs. She could imagine her feet protesting at the thought of the walk but knew it was just tiredness talking. Besides, she enjoyed the stroll past the park and homes quietly settled for the evening, lights blazing and televisions flickering. It gave her time to clear her head of a day’s nonsense and walk off the mental cobwebs a mundane job induced.

She set off swinging her bag securely over her shoulder. She was partly dreading getting home, despite the long day. Her mum and older sister both worked until late on Fridays so the house would be empty until at least eleven. It would be all darkness and silence. Sometimes her family drove her crazy, but they always meant well. She smiled to herself. She would make them all something nice for a late supper; they could all use it. Anyway, it would be the perfect excuse to catch up on the gossip and have some quality girl time.

As Becky approached the park, she unconsciously sped up. Realising, she forced herself to slow down and stop being ridiculous. Her hometown was a quiet community that rarely made it on the news for sinister reasons, unlike the larger neighboring towns. Their news was rife with murders, rapes and muggings. She shuddered and quickened her pace again. The trees looked ominous tonight, as though their deep shadows held some secret evil eager to escape into the night. Quit being such an idiot, she scorned herself. If some manic jumps out in front of me from the shadows, I’ll kick him firmly in the nuts and run while he tends to himself.

Her thoughts drifted to Tom, her boyfriend. Tom Wiles was in her college class. They had studied together frequently. He introduced himself after their first class together and suggested he help her with a matter she had struggled with, on the condition that she explain one of the complex psychology theories they had learnt to him. Since that night, they had grown closer, sharing pizzas and laughing instead of studying. She felt positive about their future; he challenged and stimulated her. All the other guys she had dated were so boring or patronising but with Tom she felt valued. She knew she had fallen in love, just not how to tell him. She decided to call him when she got home.

Totally engulfed in her thoughts, she had failed to notice the figure cautiously advancing on her. Suddenly he lunged forward, masterfully managing to grab her around the waist and bring a gleaming knife to her throat in one swift movement.
‘If you make a sound I will slit your throat,’ the disembodied voice grunted. ‘If you scream I will gut you like a fish. Do you understand me?’

Becky nodded; too terrified to trust her voice would work. It served her right for being so careless. Not exactly going to kick him in the balls from this angle, are you, love? She thought. Not exactly going to help thinking like that either.

He was pushing her forward to the park entrance. Becky knew, as her attacker also appeared to, the park was checked over at nine forty-five by a local security team and locked up at ten without fail. They were looking for cider drinking teens rather than knife wielding maniacs. No hope there.

Her attacker was pulling her along using the one arm looped around her waist. She had relaxed her body, as much as she could considering the circumstances, in the hopes her dead weight would slow him down. However, he was strong, terrifyingly strong. A tear rolled down her cheek, surprising her. She considered herself tenacious and capable in life, but now some sociopath had reduced her to tears. She felt scared and helpless, her strength vanishing when she needed it most.



He had forced her to start walking, frustrated with her reluctance to move of her own will. The gash across her face was bleeding, but not too painful. She felt a glimmer of hope as she realised they were taking the route through the streets leading to her home. He came to a halt and spoke, the knife held to her spine.
‘You are going to walk up to your house and unlock the door then we are going inside. Do you understand me, Becky?’

At the sound of her name, her body tensed. What the hell was this? Who was this man? Oh god... He knew where she lived. The bastard had been stalking her or at least had followed her. A moan escaped her as she realised this was no random lunatic. He knew her name! It was always on TV that victims often knew their killers. What had she done to bring this upon her though, she was a nice person with no angry ex-boyfriends lurking in her past. She had not been rude or antagonised anyone that she knew of. None of that stuff matters and you know it, she told herself sternly. Sociopaths do not react to situations as a normal person does. Nope, they grab people from the streets and threaten to fillet them like a fish instead.

They reached her house and walked up the driveway. He had moved to her side and taken her hand firmly in his, holding the knife at her side underneath the dark jacket he was wearing. To anyone walking by they would look like a normal couple. Becky could feel a sheen of perspiration cool on her forehead. She wanted desperately not to show it but she knew she reeked of fear.

She fumbled with her keys, her hands shaking. She knew if they went in the house, she was as good as dead. Then she saw her opportunity. Her slick, trembling hands let the keys drop to the ground at her feet. She made to bend down and snag them. As she crouched, she brought her elbow back and up, straight into his groin. He grunted and staggered back. Becky grabbed the keys and turned to the man, knowing she had a mere few seconds to act. He was recovering from the blow, doubled over in pain.

She slid the keys between her fingers and, using them like makeshift claws, swiped at his face. He caught her arm mid-air and pulled the keys from her hand. They sliced into her soft flesh. She looked down at her hand and then to his face. Recognition dawned on her slowly.
‘You’re... y-you… Monica’s.’ She stuttered.
‘I gave you your chance, Becky. You didn’t take it so now we’re going to do things my way.’

His left hand was clamped around both her slim wrists, the other pushing the knife into her back. It had penetrated her work shirt, piercing the thin polyester with ease. Becky figured it was sharp, judging by the trickle of blood she could feel worm its way down her spine at the slight pressure he asserted. The sight of her own home, looking sinister and malignant instead of welcoming distressed Becky more than a little blood. Horrible things were supposed to happen in dark alleys and abandoned buildings, not a person’s own home.

The front door opened to an enclosed entryway leading upstairs to the right or directly into the living room – they moved forwards. He pushed her to floor so she was laying spread eagled on the plush rug centered in the room. Becky closed her eyes and sobbed. She did not want him to see her suffering; she knew he would enjoy it. He started tugging at the zipper on her jeans and she could no longer control her sobs. She cried loudly and clawed at his hand to try to stop him but he wrenched the jeans off in one swift movement. Her shoes – potential weapons – were out of reach. He tore her shirt open and used his knife to cut her bra. The air felt chill as her breasts and toned stomach were exposed.
‘Gary, that’s your name isn’t it, Gary Hill?’ she whispered. ‘Why do you want to hurt me, Gary?’

He looked at her face for a moment, and then his eyes moved to her body. He slid the knife down between her breasts, slicing into the soft flesh of her belly as he said, ‘Because I love you Becky. You refused me so I am going to show you how much I love you. At least you remember my name, you fucking cunt. You betrayed me! You fucked that imbecile shithead but rebuked me. I worship you, you know?’ He kissed her forehead and pulled her panties down.

Tears were streaming down her face as he raped her. She screamed as her hymen broke. The horror she felt outweighed the physical pain. She knew this torture could not go on forever, and even though her virginity was lost to this monster, she was still alive. If she could escape with her life, she knew she would learn to deal with the torture imparted by the man she had refused to date. Becky found it difficult to comprehend the fact that this sociopath had picked her to stalk and rape, brandishing a knife at that, simply because she had laughed of his seemingly harmless flirting in the coffee shop. She thought it was just banter, not a kick in his ego every time she refused him

Gary had been a regular, charming and good looking, a little out of her age range, but had she been single she may have fallen for his attentions. His dark eyes looked brooding and intense which she had found intriguingly sexy; she now understood the insanity lurking behind those expressions. He had ordered his coffee each morning for months, flirting a little with Becky then going off to work, or so she had presumed. When he stopped coming in she thought little of it. Regulars came and went, presumably changing jobs or coffee shops to suit them.

She had not even slept with Tom; they were waiting until the time was right for them both. They had fooled around a little but Becky was nervous. She had wanted the night to be special, with candles and soft music… With Tom.

She snapped out of her thoughts. If she carried on thinking like that, she would be giving up. Rebecca Lewis was not the type of girl to give up without a fight. Hill had stopped. His breath was harsh and rasping. She could feel his hot semen trickle out of her as he withdrew. She gagged and turned her head to the side just in time to avoid vomiting on herself. Her throat was burning and her arms were aching where he had kept a grip on her wrists, but she was generally okay – physically at least. The gash on her belly was not deep and had already stopped bleeding. He was kneeling between her spread legs, searching in his pocket for something. The knife was in his right hand, pointed in her general direction but he looked too distracted to be threatening.

Taking a deep breath, Becky pulled her knees up and kicked him hard in the chest with all the force she could muster. Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion, passing seconds feeling like minutes. Hills had flown backwards and landed awkwardly against the coffee table, the knife flying from his hand into the darkness.

Becky pushed herself to her feet, hesitating briefly before deciding to aim for the bathroom. Hill was blocking her path to the front door, and besides, her kick could not have done more than wind him. At least the bathroom had a good lock on it and the cordless house phone hooked to the wall that joined the bathroom to the dining area.

She moved in the direction she wanted to go, realising a second too late that her foot should have been on the cold wooden flooring but wasn’t. She had stepped on her discarded jeans. She tried desperately to hold her footing but fell forwards as her leg shot back, the floor an ice rink beneath her.

Her right knee slammed down on the solid flooring. She swore under her breath and scrambled towards the bathroom on her knees. When she reached the door, she pulled herself up using the worktop for leverage with her right arm and groped at the wall with her left, blindly seeking the telephone. Her hand was sweating and slipped as she tried to pick it up. She wiped her hand on her shirt and tried again.

As her fingers slipped around the handset and lifted it off the wall she heard a movement to her left. Before she realised what had happen, searing hot pain erupted in her hand like molten lava. Blood gushed to the floor as Becky realised there was something protruding from her palm. She was gaping at the sight of a knife handle sticking out of one side of her hand, the blade the other. It was like a magic trick except no one was going to applaud her when she had finished. A dark silhouette stepped forward and pulled the knife out of her palm. The sensation of the knife wrenching free from bone made her want to vomit again.

Becky’s last thought before she felt the knife slicing into her abdomen was of her mum. She would have a nightmare cleaning up all the mess.


Tom watched the newsreader fix the appropriate solemn look on her face. She began the leading story that night.
‘Following police reports, a man has been arrested for the rape and murder of Rebecca Lewis. We heard late last Friday that Rebecca, nineteen, had been violently raped and was then stabbed in the abdomen at least fifteen times as well as sustaining injuries to her knee and cuts to her face and abdomen.’

Tom had been in contact with the police on a daily basis, pestering them probably. He wanted to kill the son-of-a-bitch that had hurt his Becky. Literally, wrap his hands around his throat and squeeze every breath out of him.

He looked down to his lap. His hands were folded neatly on his knees, cupped carefully around the black velvet box that contained the ring. He had bought her a beautiful and elegant half-carat diamond engagement ring. It cost a lot but it was going to be beautiful. He was going to tell her he loved her for the first time, put the ring on her finger and ask her to be eternally his.

He stood up and stepped onto the chair he had been sitting on. Tightening the noose around his neck, he pushed chair from beneath his feet. The last image he saw before his last lungful of breath was Rebecca Lewis’s face smiling warmly at him.

In the background, the newsreader was finishing the story. The television screen showed a picture of Becky smiling into the lens, showing every bit of the youthful happiness she had surely felt at the actual moment it was taken.
‘He told the police he had asked her out on several occasions but she had refused saying that she had a boyfriend whom she loved. We would like to send our condolences to the family and friends of Rebecca Lewis for their tragic loss.’