Page 52 of Monsters

“Christina?” I called, cautiously.

I grew suddenly nervous, my palms sweating. Gently, I pushed the door open. Any ounce of courage I felt faded fast when I choked on a gasp.

I had found my friend.

She lay naked, on her back, a man on top engulfing her body. A sheen of sweat covered both. His muscles bulged as he held himself above her small frame pounding into her hard and fast and then slow and sensual. One hand was wrapped around her neck, so he could either pin her down or pull her face to meet his in a passionate kiss. Christina groaned deep and guttural each time he thrust into her, begging for more. She was facing away from the door, but he… he knew I was there and played to the exhibitionism. The man slowed his rhythm, pushing deeper inside her, hips eagerly gyrating.

Ready to pull me into his world, the man slowly turned his head, revealing his wicked smile. He took me in, recognized the horror I felt, his eyes sadistically gleeful.

I had seen this very scene before.

And the one person who had etched this memory in my head all those years ago was the same person proving that history could indeed be repeated.

Mason Carter.

---