Ted Dekker - The Bride Collector

The voices echoed in her head. What if she was too late? What if he was waiting in the park now?

Despite their pampering, or perhaps because of it, she was more nervous now than when she’d first walked in. Keeping her fingers from trembling was now impossible.

Paradise grabbed her dirty jeans and dug out the cell phone. No calls. She stuffed it into the right pocket of the shorts and hurried out into the main room.

Seven or eight heads turned to look at her, freezing her with their stares. She looked at the mirrored wall directly in front of her. The girl facing her was an alien.

Same height, same face, but that was it. Her dark hair hung around her face to her shoulders like a picture-perfect wig with bangs that swept across her forehead. Dark eyelashes curved up into light pink eye shadow, and dark brows had been thinned to half their former thickness. Blush colored her cheeks, just enough to change the stark white face she was accustomed to.

And the lipstick. Red lipstick, like apples for lips!

Her first instinct was to rub it all off before her transformation into this alien whore was complete. “What… what did you do?” she stammered.

“My, my look at you!” Cassandra was all smiles. “Now that’s what I call sexy.”

A chorus of oohs and ahhs agreed, and Jessie went on about how unfair it was that she could look so pretty in nothing flat.

The red shirt hung to the top of her jean shorts, which weren’t long enough. She knew they were right, though, that she looked way too much like people Andrea would point out as pretty or cute or sexy.

But all Paradise could think was that this woman staring back at her wasn’t actually her. She was an imposter! And even as the thoughts pummeled her mind, she knew they weren’t the right thoughts.

She was on the verge of a psychotic break. No, because she wasn’t psychotic. She had her phobias and had her visions, but they were real. This… She didn’t know what to think about this!

Her head spun and she was suddenly convinced that if she didn’t get the monster off her, it would take over. She rushed over to the nearest station, grabbed a white towel, and had almost taken a swipe at her face when she remembered his words again. When you’re done, take a picture of yourself and send it to me so that I know you’ve done exactly as I’ve asked.

“Samantha?”

Now they were all watching her as if she had lost her lid. She was in a box. She had to get out before she made a complete fool of herself and ruined everything.

Get out here or I’ll shoot your mother…

She fled. Past Jessie and Cassandra, past three customers now seated for their turn. Through the door and outside into the bright sun where a new reality greeted her.

Parked cars. A road. And across the road, a large park.

She was shaking so badly now that she couldn’t seem to get her legs started again. This was what she had to do, right? She had to get over there and take a picture of herself and then…

The door swung out. “Samantha, are you sure you’re okay, honey?”

“Yes.”

Cassandra eyed her skeptically. “Maybe you should come back inside.”

She got her legs going then, tearing away from the spa, past the parked car on her right. I have to get out, I have to escape! She got halfway across the lot and ran behind the green garbage bin.

Immediately she realized that Cassandra had seen her, and she was trapped like an alien back here.

She ran around the bin and headed across the road in a full sprint.

The cars started honking halfway across and she pumped her legs faster, right into the green park. Straight toward some trees fifty yards away.

Paradise reached the first large tree and threw her back up against the far side for safety. Breathing like a hurricane. Her mind was shouting at her, scolding, instructing, splitting, crying, begging it all to go away so she could stay in the closet.

But nothing went away because there was no closet and no aliens and no father.

She got her wind and snuck a peek around the tree. No one chased her. So she’d made it. She was okay.

Now what? Now she had to take a picture of herself to prove she’d made herself beautiful.

Paradise pulled out the cell phone and fiddled with the controls, searching for the camera button. Both Andrea and Roudy had cell phones, and she’d messed with them some. She dropped the phone in the dust once, grabbed it back up, and rubbed it on her red shirt, hoping she hadn’t damaged it.

By the time she finally figured out which button operated the camera, her heart was racing again. She was going to establish communication with the killer. Where would this all lead? What if he wanted something else from her? Why had he wanted her to look pretty for him? What if he actually wanted her? The thought was terrifying.

Pushing past the fear, she managed to hold the camera out and take a picture of herself. Figuring out how to send it was much easier than she would have guessed-there was only one number stored in the phone.

Now what?

She sank down to her seat, trembling. Then go across the road to the park and wait for me. I’ll call you and tell you what I want you to do next. Her mind was twirling like a ballerina in outer space.

“Brad.” She whispered his name, feeling both foolish for thinking that she mattered to him and desperate for him to notice her. All of this was for him… She’d thrown herself into the land of demons and aliens for Brad, because she had been so certain that she mattered to him.

What if she was wrong?

He’d awoken a part of her that she didn’t know existed. Even if she didn’t matter to him the way he now did to her, she had to save him. She would do anything to save him, because she loved him.

Sitting here trembling at the base of the tree all alone, dressed like a whore, she loved and needed him more than she needed air. A knot filled her throat; an ache so terrible that she cursed herself for allowing it to live inside her. But she couldn’t deny it. Not now that she realized how lonely she’d been before Brad had-

“Excuse me.”

She gasped and jerked her head up. A man in uniform stood ten feet away, looking down at her. A policeman. She scrambled to her feet, tipped dizzily to her right, and stumbled to her knees before pushing herself back up.

“Whoa, easy there. Are you Samantha?”

She gasped. The killer? He was the killer here in disguise. “What do you want?”

“Take it easy, I’m not going to hurt you. We received a call.” The policeman, if that’s what he was, eyed her with skepticism, hand on his stick. “Can you tell me your full name and where you live?”

“I…” At any moment the phone in her pocket was going to vibrate, she had to be here! “Samantha,” she said.

He nodded, understanding, though he understood nothing. “And where do you live, Samantha?”

“I… Nowhere.”

He stepped closer. “Do you mind if I look at your arms?”

So then he probably wasn’t the killer. “Why?”

“It’s okay, I just want to see the inside of your arms. Do you use?”

Drugs? “No. Please, you have to leave me.” She glanced around, half expecting the killer to walk into sight at any moment.

The cop spoke into his radio. “Yeah, I think we need to take her down to the station. Pupils’re dilated slightly, she’s obviously on something. She’s refusing to show me her arms. I’m going to bring her in, copy?”

“No!” Paradise showed him the insides of both arms. “I don’t use drugs!”

“Copy that,” his radio squawked. “Bring her in.”

“No, that’s not it!” She frantically scanned the park for any sign of the killer, that demon. “He’s after me!” she blurted. “I have to meet him here, you can’t take me.”