Okay, everyone, I am upping the anti on the “Creepiness Factor” of the killer in The Rose File. There is much more to come from “The Soft Spoken Man”, but this is the (unedited) scene where he first makes an appearance…
He awoke in a groggy haze. His head was spinning and his stomach was churning.
Where am I, he thought to himself. When did I fall asleep?
As the haze cleared, he became more aware of his body and his surroundings. He was laying on his stomach on what felt like a bed of some kind with his arms over his head. He tried to pull them down so he could prop himself up and see his surroundings, but they were restrained somehow. His first reaction was to be confused, but when he lifted his head slightly and saw that his wrists were bound to a wrought iron headboard panic set in. The young man tried to struggle against the bindings but the nausea and dizziness reared up full force. In an attempt to keep himself from vomiting, he laid still and tried to get his breathing under control.
It felt like an eternity before he was fairly confident he wouldn’t be sick. He tentatively tried to move one of his legs and felt a pull of resistance against his ankle. Panic and nausea swept over his body again. The cold sweat that spread across his back brought on another startling revelation: he was naked.
His primal survival instincts kicked in and, nausea or not, he struggled like a wild animal to get free. He screamed as loud as he could hoping someone would hear him and come to free him. After several long minutes he lay still on the bed, breathing heavily. His muscles and throat were on fire from the efforts and the nausea he had felt had now settled into a thick, greasy knot in the pit of his stomach. For the first time since he was a little kid, he closed his eyes and wept.
The sound of footsteps somewhere behind him snapped him out of his private pity-party. He held his breath, not daring to hope that salvation was approaching. A door creaked open, brightening up the room for a brief moment before it creaked closed again.
“Now then, have we finished with our little tantrum?” The soft voice that spoke from behind him was vaguely familiar. “I’m sorry for the after effects of the drug, but it was a necessary evil, I suppose.”
He heard rustling behind him and to his left but he didn’t dare lift his head to see what was going on. The rustling was followed by the sound of metal being set on metal several times in a row, as though someone was laying out silverware on a metal tray. Panic was rolling through him and he fought hard to suppress the urge to struggle and scream again. Something inside him told him that it would be a wasted effort anyway.
“Okay now,” the voice spoke, “we’re all set to go, Teddy.”
“My name isn’t Teddy.” His voice came out in a hoarse whine that even surprised himself.
“Hush now, Teddy.” The voice was practically in his ear. “We’re going to have ever so much fun.”
He felt the light brush of fingers down his bare spine and the chill that surged through his body made him want to be sick.