The Executioner by Chris Carter Page B

C’mon, you can do it. Open your mouth.’
    She stared at him, paralyzed. Her fear so intense she thought she would faint.
    He bent down, his face just a few inches from hers.
    ‘OPEN YOUR MOUTH.’
    The shout was so loud the air from his breath blew her hair away from her forehead.
    Amanda lost control. She’d gone way beyond terrified. Every hair on her body was standing on end when she wet herself.
    ‘Oh, that’s disgusting,’ he said, standing up again and taking a step back from the puddle quickly forming on the floor under her chair.
    ‘Maybe I can help you open your mouth.’ He picked something up from the fireplace mantelpiece. ‘What do you say? Do you wanna give it a try?’
    He showed her a glistening silver letter opener.
    Amanda’s eyes widened in terror, and she jerked her head back as far as it would go. A new, high-pitched shriek came from her sealed lips.
    ‘It might rip your lips from your mouth, but, hey, who cares, right? Just nod and I’ll start tearing.’
    Amanda shook her head fiercely.
    ‘Or maybe I should use this down there.’ He pointed to her groin. ‘It might stop you from being a dirty bitch and wetting the floor again. What do you say?’ He slowly ran his tongue along the length of the shining blade. ‘Shall I stick this inside you? I promise I’ll make you enjoy it first.’
    Amanda’s body wrenched forward violently, and she felt the few contents of her stomach come rushing through her throat and into her mouth. Her eyes rolled back into her head as she started to choke.
    ‘Did you just vomit into your mouth?’ he shouted, rushing towards her. ‘You filthy little whore.’ He pressed his hands against both of her cheeks, pushing her head back. ‘Swallow it back down. Swallow it back down, now,’ he ordered, applying more pressure to her cheeks.
    Amanda tried shaking her head, but her attacker had it firmly between his hands in a tight vice-grip.
    ‘SWALLOW IT BACK DOWN,’ he shouted again.
    She coughed, but the air pressure had nowhere to go except up through her nose. Bloody mucus spurted out of it, spraying the man’s gloves and sleeves.
    ‘You bitch,’ he said, massaging her throat. ‘You’re not gonna die on me like this.’
    Amanda hadn’t had any food for several hours. Whatever her stomach had regurgitated into her mouth was little more than a soup spoon full. With her attacker applying pressure to her cheeks and massaging her throat, she finally swallowed her own sick back down.
    ‘Good girl,’ he said, retrieving a paper tissue from his pocket and attending to her nosebleed. He waited in silence for about five minutes while Amanda sat shivering.
    ‘I can see you’re cold,’ he finally said, his voice changing. He sounded serene. He stepped closer. ‘I have something to show you.’
    From his pocket he pulled an old black and white photograph and held it in front of Amanda’s face.
    ‘Look at it. Do you remember?’
    She was weak, dehydrated and feeling too dizzy to concentrate.
    ‘C’mon, Mandy.’ He snapped his fingers a couple of times. ‘Pay attention to the photo. Do you remember?’
    Still feeling confused, she stared at it with unsteady eyes. Nothing was making sense.
    And then she saw it.
    ‘ It can’t be .’
    ‘Welcome to your fear, Mandy,’ he whispered. ‘I know what scares you to death.’

Thirty
     
    Some say Los Angeles Union Station is America’s last great railway station. Built in 1939 to consolidate passenger terminals from three different railways, the station still serves as a transit hub. Though its exterior is a successful merging of Spanish Mission, Moorish and Streamline Modern architectural styles, Los Angeles Union Station is best enjoyed from inside. It’s been carefully renovated, with original light fixtures, inlaid stone floors and tiled walls.
    Beauty aside, the station is a constant hustle of passengers and tourists, but today it seemed busier than normal.
    The girl ran as fast as she could, constantly