Role Play Board: 2nd Entry.... Mary's Story

2nd Entry.... Mary's Story

Posted by Sin Eater on 10/29/2009, 5:40 pm
71.226.186.23

2nd Entry

Had to return to my journal this morning, after reading about a murder, and a kidnapping in today's paper. I turn on the news and the speculation about Connie Willbanks has it that she was decapitated, some say she was hanged, probably won't get the real story for a week or so. Their is little to no coverage of the missing person, Mary Karnatzie, I believe her name was. As horrible as these crimes are, and they do disturb me, I can't help but get mad at the press... my problem is this; Who decides what's 'news-worthy'? Why is a young woman's disappearance any less shocking than another's brutal murder? I understand that they have to show what's going to keep viewers interest, that not all news can be covered in an hour, it's just tragic that someones life altering, or possibly life ending experience gets pushed back from the front page, or completely cut out of a news programs coverage all together.

Well, not much else to add to this one, having just woken and all. Nearly forgot to take my morning medication.

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Mary's Story

The morning air was crisp and cool as the seasons begin their transition from summer to fall, Mary knew the coolness of the morning would not last, so she has no hesitation when it comes to donning her jogging get up, which consists of a somewhat tight pair of gray shorts that come a little more than midway down her thigh, with blue trim lining the legs, and of course a matching top. Although she would like to be able to run in sports bra, Mary had been partial to tees and tanks so as not to reveal the much of her stomach. Lately she had been running an extra mile each morning before going to her classes at Borough of Manhattan, so she had started wearing tank tops more regularly to keep from getting so hot on her run.

Ten minutes into her morning routine, Mary turns up the volume on her Ipod that consists of many artists, from Mariah to Taylor Swift, from Miley to Britney Spears, but currently her favorite song, Beyonce's 'All the Single Ladys' is playing, and she's feeling good about herself, and her dedication to her morning runnings.

Mary starts down a back road that she's mapped out and that will add a little over a mile to her morning run. This road loops around, into a poorly lit part of town that is often making the five o'clock news for all the wrong reasons before emptying itself onto her street a quarter of a mile down from her house. She tells herself 'if this leg of the run makes you uncomfortable, you never have to come this way again' and she braves on through the shadows.

She has forgotten her music and fails to spot the patrol car idling up beside her. The driver has a clear view of Mary on her run through the early morning, but sends the passenger side window down with the press of a finger anyway. The dark haired, tanned man sits watching through his mirrored imitation state trooper shades at the young supple form before him as her features bounce and sway down the ill lighted sidewalk. Half thinking of the consequences, the man flips the cruisers lights on, and Mary nearly jumps out of her skin.

With the speed as if she'd been caught listening to music in class, Mary rips the ear buds from her ears and shuts the device off. "I'm sorry officer, but I didn't hear you come up behind me."

The man, for a moment, looks unresponsive, as if staring at one of those images that reveals a three dimensional picture. Just as Mary was about to speak up and ask if he was alright, the officer speaks up. "That's just the point, if you couldn't hear my lead sled pull up beside you, how are you supposed to hear a group of thugs looking for a good time at your expense come up behind you?"

Embarrassment paints her soft cheeks as she considers the statement. "I'm sorry, I won't even be coming back this way anyhow officer."

"Good. Why don't you get in, and I'll get you out of this part of town."

"Well it isn't really that far until your back on the main road, I think I can..." but her words are cut short.

"That really wasn't a question. I can't have your fate weighing on my conscious if I was to drive off. Just hop in, five minutes later your home free." He leans over pulls the door handle and pushes the door open for her with a warm friendly smile.

Mary smiles right back, and hops on in the car, shuts the door lightly and clicks the seat belt on over her lap, the shoulder strap feeling just a tad tight across her chest. The cruiser surges forward in an instant driving her back against the seat, not forcefully, but enough to bring concern to the front of Marys mind.

"Aren't you going to buckle up officer...?" She looks a badge, they have the officers name on them on television, so she thinks maybe his is on his badge or uniform. But Mary spots no badge, in fact the man is wearing no uniform, just a gray suit with blue stripes down the side.

"No, I'm just fine." The man says, turning in his seat to face her with one hand on the wheel.

"I'm starting to feel uncomfortable here, are you really an officer?"

This question seems to do more to aggravate her driver, so she doesn't pursue further. "Of course I am, look at this car."

His answer comes out a little loud for Mary, but she entertains his suggestion of looking the car over anyhow. Oddly the car does look like a cop car, Mary thinks, but maybe not as up to date as the ones used on Law and Order. 'But not just anyone can drive around with blue and red flashing lights on the top of their car.' She assures herself as she turns her gaze to the back seat area.

Her stomach feels as if it has retracted up into her throat as she sees in one instant that their is no cage between the front and back seats. In fact there is no back seat at all, and if she wasn't mistaken, their was blood on the floor.

A gasp comes out involuntarily as she looks into the backseat and the man at the wheel turns his gaze momentarily from Mary's body to the backseat area. "Oh.." he says almost as if he's searching his mind for the right words. "the last perp. was pretty belligerent."

Not sure whether to accept this statement as a truth or not, Mary turns her eyes back to the streets ahead. Surely as fast as this maniac is going they've gotten out of the slummy part of town. But their are no streets ahead of them, instead there's only dirt road.

"I.... I think I can walk from here..." Panic prevailing against reason, Mary knows not what to say or do in this situation. But much to her dismay, the vehicle slides to a stop churning up a wake of dust that quickly catches up to and over takes the police cruiser.

"Glad I could be of service."

Unable and unsure how to address that remark she simply presses her seat belt release, but is not greeted by the familiar 'ziiiiiip' of it coiling back into place. She leans forward to make sure she's pressing it correctly. But again and again it does not release. She looks back up to the man at the wheel only to see his eyes still on her, as if undressing her mentally. No, worse as if she's been undressed in his eyes since the second she saw his car at her side.

"Oh, that thing sticks sometimes." His hand latches onto hers, as if to pull it to his lips for a kiss. Instead he set aside her hand, and jiggles the belt latch.

"Hell, the thing needs to be replaced anyhow." he says leaning down and reaching under the seat. "We'll just cut it off of you."

Mary holds her breath for what seems like an eternity after seeing the knife come from under his seat like that. The blade is not particularly large, but large enough to get a certain grisly job done, but Mary is able to breathe yet again when the blade comes to rest pressing against the seat belt fabric. She watches as the lap belt is severed and the remainder coils back into the holder at her side.

"Lets make sure this one..." He says tapping the flat part of his blade against the shoulder strap, and as it trailed up that strap, Mary feels her stomach retrace it's path up into her throat as she sees the trail of blood left in its wake. "..doesn't recoil, hitting you in that pretty face."

The tip of the blade dips under the seat belt, just between Mary's breasts. The blade is rotated so that the belt is pressed against the blade. The blade cuts like butter through the seat belt and is then at Mary's ear. "Now we are going to the back." The man says in a near whisper. And glancing to the back seat, Mary spots there, dangling from the ceiling, a pair of handcuffs secured in place.

"Please God, Noooooooo!" She screams with tears spilling from the corners of her eyes.

Now I'd like to be able to tell you that Mary put up a good fight and escaped from being raped. And to a somewhat lesser degree, I would like to tell you that she was allowed to go free after her assailant's nasty business had been taken care of, but both statements would be lies.