He crossed the room to the futon. Looking over her shoulder, she saw him kneel and reach into the drawstring bag, which had fallen on the floor during his ugly, pointless attempt at lovemaking.
From the bag he removed a hacksaw. The blade gleamed in the candlelight.
"Normally I wait until my victim is dead before taking my trophy." He circled around the card table with the hacksaw in his hands. "But not this time."
She tugged at the tape. It was partly worn through, but still it wouldn't yield.
"This time I intend to try a new technique. I'm going to cut your head off while you're still alive'
He was coming toward her. Still smiling. His eyes dead.
"And I'm going to do it right now."
She had to free her hands or she was dead. She had to. Had to.
With a final desperate tug she ripped the tape apart, then sprang to her feet, facing him from a yard away. He stared at the torn black adhesive clinging to her wrists.
