Francesca Di Lauro had the kind of eyes you never forgot. Hypnotic, almost translucent. An indefinable shade between blue and green. More hologram than optic.
They were fixed on the man in front of her. Fixed very firmly on him as he watched her naked body. Francesca’s faultless skin and tumbling black hair were backlit by the golden flicker of a newly lit fire. The two of them were alone. Outside, in the pine-smelling woodland. No one to disturb them. Perfect privacy.
Only this was no romantic encounter. This was the worst moment of her life. The flames around Francesca’s feet crawled up the metal stake she’d been tied to. Wind tugged her hair and suddenly the jaws of an orange dragon were chewing her flesh. Francesca twisted hopelessly, the agonizing heat searching her paraffin-soaked skin.
He stood a few metres away, mesmerized by the slow murder, stroking himself pleasurably. His eyes fixed on the curtain of flames. This would take time. A deliciously long time.
Francesca had been tied with coils of wire around her fet, hands and neck. He’d learned from past mistakes.
Rope burned, then they tried to get away.He didn’t want any more messiness. No mistakes this time.
Bricks were stacked waist-high, all around her. A kiln to funnel heat up her body. Rags stuffed in her mouth and then bound around her face to choke off any screams. Though sometimes he like to hear them. Liked to hear the air leave their lungs for one last time.