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            I was quicker, and I put my foot in the door. My boots were steel-toed, and no matter how hard she pressed against the door, I didn’t feet the pressure. I pressed against the other side of the door. She was not stronger that me, and I heard her scream in panic as I began to push the door open.

            Finally, she seemed to give up and let the door go. No longer pushing against any resistance, I unintentionally slammed the door open hard enough to make the windows shake. Rachael bolted down the entrance hall, desperate to get away. I was not surprised that she seemed frightened of me. Who knew what lies she had been fed about me? I close the door and ran for her. I grabbed her wrist and turned her around. Her hand pulled back and she slapped me.

            I felt anger flair in my mind, burning behind me eye, sudden and in full fury. I drew my pistol from its spot in my belt and struck her in the head with it. She fell, and started to pick herself up. I struck her again and she collapsed. It was for her own good. I want nothing but happiness for her. But in order to make a cake you have to break a few eggs, as the saying goes.

            I grabbed Rachael by the hands and dragged her across the polished hardwood floor. I took her to the living room, where I spotted the couch. She would need to be restrained, at least until my work was over and we could talk, help her get all those lies out of her head, to help her realize that I was what was best for her. All I wanted for her was happiness.

            I dropped her hands and went back to the truck and grabbed the duct tape. I went back and began to search the house until I found the lining closet. It was an extravagant and expensive home, build just the same as the home across the street but much more exquisite because of the stuff that filled it. Perhaps once I killed Dawson, we could keep this house and its contents. Everything we needed to live a life together was right here.

            I grabbed a clean washcloth about six-by-six inches and rolled it. I went back to Rachael. She had not yet stirred. A small trickle of blood traveled down her perfect brow. Nothing serious. I stuck the rolled cloth lengthwise in her mouth, much like a horse’s harness. I used the duct tape to tape it in place, wrapping it around her mouth across the back of her head, careful to lift her beautiful hair so it would not be caught by the tape. I did this several times before tearing the tape and starting on her ankles.

            Once her feet were secured, I lifted her gently and rested her against the back of the couch. The couch was made of metal pipes, painted black and twisting and turning in an extravagant pattern. A series of bars ran down to the floor to offer support. First I taped Rachael’s wrists together, tearing the tape off and started wrapping her bound wrists to the bars. I wrapped it several times so it was impossible to tear free just by wiggling her wrists, no matter how long she worked them. I was good at this. Sometimes, some of the girls I slept with in hopes that one of them would be like Rachael liked to be tied up.

            I looked at my handiwork. It would last. Now, all that was left was to wait until nightfall, and then pay Dawson a visit at work while the rest of his coworkers had gone home for the night. With no one to bother us, our meeting would be long, and not at all pleasant for him.