Rose's Apartment

  7:37 P.M.

  Mike is seated at the kitchen table, several graded paper are spread out in front of him. However, the pile of papers has gone down very little. Mike drops his red pen to the tabletop and stretches noisily. He glances over at the analog clock on the wall. Almost seven-forty and still no Rose.

  Yawning and stretching, Mike climbs from his seat at the table. He shuffles out of the kitchen and into the living room. His cellphone is on the glass table where he left it.

  Mike grabs up his phone and unlocks it. He speed dials Rose's number. The phone rings several times before clicking over to voicemail. Rose's recorded voice greets Mike's waiting ears.

  "Hi. You've reached Rose Perry. Sorry I missed your call. Please leave your name, number, and a brief message. I'll get back to you as soon as I can. And if this is Mike, I love you. Thanks."

  Mike hangs up and calls twice more. Each time, he gets the same result. Voicemail. Trying one last time, Mike is relieved to hear a human voice answer. But it is not Rose's voice.

  "Hello," a strange woman's voice says.

  "Hi, this is Mike Blaine. Uh...This is my fiance's phone. Who are you? And why do you have Rose's phone?"

  "Well, excuse me for trying to help," the woman spits back sarcastically. "I'm the night janitor at Water's Gym. We're about to close up for the night and I was cleaning out the showers. I found your fiance's cellphone in the trash. It was ringing like crazy. Next time, I'll just leave something like that where I find it."

  "Oh...No, ma'am," Mike says, panic entering his voice. "That's not how I meant it. I was only wondering why you had Rose's phone. I wasn't trying to be rude. In the trash? Why would Rose's phone be in the trash?"

  "How would I know that, Sir?" the woman retorts, she is obviously still angry at Mike for his initial reaction. "People lose stuff in the trash all the time. Had a couple come back here last week accusing us of stealing a ring. Turns out the chick hadn't even brought her engagement ring to the gym with her. It was safe at home in her underwear drawer. Another time, some guy lost his watch. Wanna guess where it was? The trash. People always wanna come out swinging without knowing the facts. It's always 'the hired help' that somehow stole your valuables."

  "Ma'am, I already told you. I don't think you stole anything. Will you do me a favor though? Can you tell me if there's a black Camry sitting in your parking lot? I'm worried about my girl Rose."

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  "We close in less than thirty minutes, Sir. I have other duties. I don't have time to be acting like an errand boy for you. I'll leave your fiance's phone in the lost and found. She's probably retracing all of her steps looking for it. I don't remember seeing any car in the parking lot when I passed by that way. Most of our patrons know we start to close down early. We open at eight in the morning. As long as either of you can positively identify the phone, you can take it home with you. See you in the morning. Bye."

  "No, please. Ma'am," Mike exclaims.

  The line goes dead as the gym's janitor ends the call. Mike sighs and lowers the phone from his ear. He strolls back into the kitchen and glances at the clock on the wall a second time. Ten minutes until eight. Where had Rose said she was going to order dinner? Had she said where she was going?

  $$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

  Rose struggles to see through the thin blindfold covering her eyes. She rotates her neck to get out a kink and nearly faints from pain. Rose's throat hurts where the gloved man attempted to strangle her. Her nasal passages and mouth are extremely dry and raw from the pepper spray he used on her. Rose coughs softly, angling her head toward the ceiling.

  Somewhere in the background, water drips rhythmically from a pipe onto the floor. Rose is able to hear the water dripping. She licks her lips with thirst. The air within the darkened space, wherever she is, is damp and rank. The humidity causes Rose's skin to crawl, as if tiny insects are scrambling over her.

  She can make out the sounds of her male captor's labored breathing. He has been breathing that way for quite some time. Every once in a while, Rose can make out other noises. She is sure he is painting something. What, she can only guess. If she really cared to.

  After a few more minutes of straining against the ropes binding her, Rose gives up on her futile task. Exhaustion claims Rose, she allows her head to fall onto her chest and tiredly goes to sleep. Her slumber is full of nightmares.

  Rose is awakened by a hand under her chin. To her surprise, the blindfold has been removed. Rose yelps as she catches sight of the face hovering above her. The man holding her chin is familiar. The kind man from the gym. The man with the rubber band. The disfigured man tilts his head to one side and studies her.

  "What? Do you not like what you see?" the man questions in a high-pitched nasally voice. "That's alright. Neither do I! That is why I make new faces. New faces for all of my darlings. New bodies too! It will be beautiful. You will be beautiful. A face worthy of my collection. I will paint you so marvelously. You will be made new. Like a babe in the womb. So beautiful. My darling."

  Rose barely has time to react before the horrid man lashes out with a large knife, slashing her face. With both hands bound, Rose is unable to stem the bleeding. She shrieks, and then whimpers softly, tears mixing with the blood on her cheek.

  The man's cruel eyes bulge in his pallid face. He uses a gnarled finger to wipe at the blood on Rose's cheek. Licking the blood from his fingertip, the man chuckles maniacally. Rose's lip trembles as she watches his insane antics.

  "Yes, my darling. You will become part of my collection. You are already one step closer. Yes. Yes. My work of art. The art of Aquarius. You should be proud."

  Raising the knife a second time, the vile man prepares to make another downward stroke.