In the darkness, Michael was very busy dressing the rag-doll in Anna's clothing. He had a whole collection of these, he had purchased them some months before his retreat into the darkness. He had made the trip to retrieve them between home owners, he needed them for his work.They were about five feet tall, he sometimes found that frustrating if his 'interest' was very tall, and they had no face. Just blank canvas.
He pinned the lock of hair he had taken from Anna to the head of the doll. It didn't give the resemblance of a head of hair, it was only a small lock after all, but it told what colour her hair was. Plus it was her real hair. It added part of her to the lifeless doll. He also inserted the patch of blood soaked cotton into the stolen panties and placed them on the doll.
When he had finished dressing the doll, he sat it at the front of the pile of dressed dolls heaped up on the floor. He liked to remember his victims, and the dolls were perfect for that. Each one had a lock of hair, a blood sample, and the woman's own clothes.He had scrawled their names on the back of the dolls too.
He was fond of them, and often pulled them out and lined them up to lose himself in the memories. The pile was unstable, and in order to help prevent an avalanche of dolls, he'd had to place one off the pile, and it lay just next to the mountain, though still in contact with it.
There were thirty Dolls in the pile, and the one he had to separate made thirty-two. It lay on its side, dressed in torn clothing, and attached to a rope hanging from her stomach, was a baby doll. The doll was naked, bloody and really, really small. That woman had been his favourite, Melanie was the name scrawled on this dolls back. Dearest Melanie had really fought him, unaware she was only fuelling his fire.
Now there was a new addition, Anna's doll. He would have preferred to take the clothes she would wear when he took her,but the faded jeans and sunshine yellow t-shirt he had taken were fine, and stealing them had helped scare her more.
He propped up her doll, making sure she was sitting facing him. He sat close enough to smell her clothes, all of them worn, all of them smelling of her, and began to pleasure himself.
The time was coming soon. Soon he wouldn't be reduced to masturbating in the darkness with a doll for company. As he was starting to climb the ladder to his climax he heard a familiar hum. He closed his eyes, but continued his action. Blinding light flashed over his eyelids and the voice was soft, and somehow deadly.
'I suggest you stop that in my presence.' It whispered. Michael's eyes snapped open and scanned the darkness. Seeing nothing, he growled.
'I am in no-one's presence!' he spat, furious at the interruption of his ritual.
All at once the mountain of dolls toppled and the temperature dropped. He let go of himself as he scrambled backward, away from the toppled dolls. He felt ice cold fingers slip around his manhood, too cold, the sensation made him cry out in pain and fear.
'OK! OK!' He gasped, grunting with effort as he tugged up his trousers.
For the first time he was afraid. He had been up here alone for twenty years, and nothing like this had ever happened before. He sensed the urgency of the voice today, and wanted to cower in a corner until it had passed. He could never get away from it though, trying to hide was pointless. He had to hear what the voice had to say.
'It has to be soon, I can't wait much longer.' came a soft purr from the darkness. Michael got his senses back then.
'But I'm not ready, it takes time, I need time!' he whispered staring around.
'Time is the one thing you do not have. I cannot give you any more time. It needs to be done by the end of the week. It must be different this time.' The voice was insistent.
Michael was furious. It couldn't be different, it had to be the way it always was. He couldn't do it otherwise.
'Don't even think about questioning me Michael. I have looked after you, made sure you have had the things you need all these years. That pile of disgusting tributes was considerably smaller before I moved you up here. I can end your miserable existence in a second if you get in my way. The girl needs to live. You can do anything else you want, but she needs to live. I need her alive.' The voice faded out, leaving Michael alone with his thoughts.
He was angry, angry because he didn't even know who the voice belonged to. He was angry because for the first time in his life he was not in control, didn't know the plan. On top of this he was frustrated and now he would have no time to finish what he started. His erection had gone, but it was still sending throbbing waves of ice cold pain through his entire body.
All he knew, was he would have to do what was required of him, this time. He swore this would be the last time anyone or anything prevented him from doing his own work.
Michael started to wonder exactly what his part in this was, he was beginning to suspect the voice had never cared about him, and he was less than pleased at the thought of being used as a tool. He would do the job and run. Run and never look back.
Michael would have to move faster, his anger would have to fuel this fire, he would have to direct it towards the job at hand. He began to plan.