A Woman Is Most Dangerous To Herself When She Is Desperate To Be Loved

There was a crisp air in the night that sent goose bumps running down my legs with each light breeze that met my skin. We had met in an open field, the perfect place to star gaze. I wasn’t sure how long he had been waiting, but by the looks of him leaning against the hood of his car, it had been awhile. He looked just as I remembered, tall dark and handsome.

I could feel my heart pounding against my rib cage with each step closer to him, was I making a mistake? It was too late to turn around; he had been waiting for me. We drove all the way out here in the middle of nowhere for this. I was excited just an hour ago, so why did I feel so nervous now? His eyes were locked on mine, already devouring me with each step I took towards him. Those dark eyes of his pierced my flesh as if he could see my nakedness.

He wanted me and I wanted him. I spoke as soon as I was a few feet from him.

“Hey, it’s been a minute.”

With a crooked grin on his face, he leaned forward from the hood of his car and took my hand in his. I felt a jolt of electricity run through my heart. Was I nervous, or excited? I wasn’t supposed to be here with him. This was wrong.

“It has, you look pretty.”

I could feel my cheeks burning. I hoped I wore enough foundation to hide the shade of crimson developing above my dimples. I mustered up a smile to try and cover my embarrassment. I grinned as I stared at the ground, then sheepishly traced my eyes back up to his.


I let my fingers fall into his. He pulled me into his chest and wrapped his arms around me before I could get a second word in. What was I thinking? The guilt that I was feeling suddenly evaporated, I had forgotten how good looking he was. I no longer cared that I was here. I felt like I was right where I was supposed to be in that moment.

He whispered in my ear as he held me tight. “Did you tell anyone where you were going?”

“No. Nobody knows.”

“And your husband? What does he think you’re doing?”

“He’s out of town. We have this night to ourselves.”

Our chests were touching, and our eyes were locked on one another. He held my face in his hands as he stared into my soul. I closed my eyes, and I felt his lips brush against mine, then the full force of his mouth was against my face. His fingers were running through my hair, and my grip was on his biceps. This was a perfect moment in time; the two of us taking in each others breaths. I could feel my soul dancing in my body.

Suddenly, he pulled on my hair and brought my face away from his.

“Open your eyes. I want to look into them for this.”

I was swooning over him. I could already feel my heart skipping a beat, so I complied with his request as a smile fell across my face. That smile slowly faded into a frown when I felt what he was doing. It happened so quickly that it is hard to describe the feeling. At first, I felt a cold metal object running along the inside of my leg. Then, I felt the sharp force of the edge against my stomach, just below my belly button. A searing pain awoke inside of my torso and I opened my mouth to scream.

He was still holding me against his body, my eyes forced to stare back at his. He kept his dark eyes trained on mine and a small grin crept up his mouth.

He whispered in my ear. “Yes. Go ahead, let it out.”

I felt the warm trickle of blood run down my torso, down my hips, and along the inside of my leg. A long, petrified moan left my lips after what felt like minutes. He kept his face inches from mine as I screamed out in pain. The pain was indescribable. I felt my insides shredding and ripping apart as he dug the knife deeper into me.

He kissed me on the forehead, then spoke. “Does it hurt? Tell me.”

I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t find the words in that moment. I was in utter shock. The only thing I could manage to do was try not to move. Each micro movement sent a searing pain up and down my body. When the shock of the situation finally wore off, the fear set in. He was trying to kill me. I had to pull away and fight to live. This wasn’t like the movies where you’re able to run with a knife in you. No, this was the worst pain of my life. I could barely breath from the pain.

He let go of the knife and wrapped both arms around me. He leaned in closer to me and cradled me, keeping his eyes locked with mine as his forehead rested against mine.

“I have you. Just drift to sleep. Let it take you.”

That familiar crimson color soaked my torso.

With all my might, I tried to scream, but it only came out as a broken whisper. “H-help.”

“Shh…sh. Nobody is out here. It’s just you and me tonight. Remember?”

A huge grin twisted up on his face as his eyes stayed locked with mine. He looked like he was getting turned on by this. Like an urge that he had been fighting to hold back had finally been released.

I wrapped my fingers around the knife that protruded from my stomach and yanked at it. Blood spilled out of me and hit the grass beneath me. I pushed my palm against the wound as more blood continued to pour out. I honestly thought I was going to die that night. I used my free hand to push him off, and to my surprise, he let me fall to the ground.

I laid in a pool of my blood and tried to focus on my breathing. I knew that the more I panicked, the more blood I would lose. He didn’t say a word after that. He calmly walked back to his car, got in, started it up, and crept back onto the street, leaving me for dead.

He played this out well. I had no connection to him. He knew he could and would get away with this. I had kept him a secret; I had to. My husband would come home and realize I was missing. They would never think to find me in this field. I didn’t have service on my cell phone, and I hadn’t told a single person where I was. Eventually, they would find my car, run my plates, and find my remains.

But that’s not how my story ends.

I had some fight in me that I didn’t realize was there. I refused to die this way. I used every ounce of energy I could muster up and crept towards my car. With each crawl, I could feel the blood leak out faster and with each inch closer to my car, I thought I’d surely pass out, that this would be the end. The night was cool, and the blood was sticky against my palms. Grass clippings stuck to my blood soaked body as I snaked across the ground towards my car. I could feel the dirt and ants seeping into my exposed wound, but I had to fight, I had to keep dragging along.

Somehow, I made it to my car and started the ignition. My car looked like a murder scene with all the bloody fingers prints, and rightfully so. I had been able to drive the car to a main road before I fainted behind the wheel. A passing driver must have seen my car stopped in the middle of the road and called for help because I woke up in a hospital after that.

I had lost a lot of blood, but I had survived. Of course, I was questioned up and down, but I couldn’t tell the truth. I couldn’t tell the cops that I knew exactly who did this to me. I couldn’t expose myself for the monster that I was. I wasn’t where I was supposed to be that night, and these are the repercussions that I face for the poor decision I made.

My would be killer still walks free. I’ve kept this secret pushed down so far, that sometimes I wonder if I imagined the whole thing. Did that really happen to me? Then, I’m reminded every time I see him that it in fact did happen.

The way he looks at me as we cross paths at the grocery store. It’s a look of want and need from him. Almost like he planned on me living; it drives him crazy.

It’s a fetish that can’t be tamed, and I’m scared. I’m scared because I know it is wrong, but I find myself drawn to him still. The way he stares at me sends me into a state of yearning. I am petrified because I find myself wanting to meet up with him again.

I can feel my heart pounding against my rib cage with the thought of walking up to him, would I be making a mistake? Am I nervous or excited? I shouldn’t go with him. This is wrong…but, it’s too late to turn around; he’s waiting for me.

Maybe I’ll call it love. After all, love makes you do crazy things.

I will end this post on that note. If you hear a news story of a girl found in a field, don’t come looking for me. Don’t try to find me. I’ve made my bed; now it’s time to lie in it.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑

<span>%d</span> bloggers like this: