Vacant (Empathy #3) (14 page)

My readers:

I love you all, thanks for being the best readers an author could ask for.

Special thanks to:

Judi Perkins who always looks after me, love you Mama.

Bloggers:

Thank you to every blog that promotes me, reviews my work or who enjoys just reading my work. I love you guys.

Kinky Kittens:

‘Thank you’ is never enough. You guys are loyal and passionate, amazing and incredible. We are like a family and no words can describe how blessed I feel to have each of you on my team.

Special thanks to Betas

Michelle, Terrie and Vicki. Thanks for your awesome feedback <3

Terrie Arasin my PA thanks for always having my back and taking a lot of the stress for me, I love you; you’re a Godsend!

The people that make it happen:

Stacey—
Champagne Formats

Kyra Lennon—Editor

Beta readers—Vicki Leaf, Terrie Arasin, Michelle McGinty.

Proof reader—Jillian Crouson—Toth

Cover design Judi Perkins–

http://www.clpromotionsky.net

https://www.facebook.com/clpromotionsky?pnref=lhc

I SEE YOU

A Dark Erotic Novel

By

D.H.Sidebottom & Ker Dukey

Prologue

I See You

I followed the crimson river flowing down between her pert upturned breasts through the lens, the deep rouge substance slowly travelling over the deep ridges of her breastbone, a pattern developing in the random path of blood and leading her life force to pool on the floor around her tiny soft feet, her toes squelching in the puddle.

Click.

Capturing her death was the embodiment of power, watching her dreams leave her so unreservedly and so effortlessly. Witnessing her once strong faith desert her and mock bitterly was rather sad to watch, a void now occupying where once a fullness had influenced. If we never had anything to rely on but our commitment to an entity then what had we actually ever had? This girl had been taunted by her beliefs her whole life, and as she swayed before me, her religion now of no support or comfort then all she had strived for was an irrelevance blown away by the breeze of her final breath.

Click.

Her faint murmured moan brought a smile to my lips, the sound as empowering as seeing the blood now trickle over the small swell of her stomach, her pale skin alive with the adornment of the deep color, her character escaping with each traitorous pump of her heart.

Click.

The heart was such a deceitful thing. She thought she had loved, and had been loved, this small frail life before me never grasping anything but false expectation all her tragic life. But all she had witnessed in her young life was a deception of hope, her mind manipulating every emotion she had ever felt.

There was nothing real in emotion. The only genuine thing she would feel was the slowing of her heart and the light fading in her mind.

Click.

Her chest stuttered for a brief moment, encouraging me to click quickly and rapidly, my need to take prisoner her final gasp in the lens a vital necessity. I owed her the idolisation of life; her soul fossilised to allow her existence a memory.

Click, click, click.

She gasped but it was too deep and strong to be the final one. This one was spirited, almost as if she was refusing to grant me my petition.

Click.

I was growing tired, such a long day. The wind was bitter and blew through every available cavity in my space, making me shudder angrily, the hairs under my shirt shivering at the chill.

Click.

I was surprised when her eyes slowly opened and she managed to focus on me. She frowned faintly, unnerved but surprised by my presence. “W . . . why?” she rasped, her cracked lips splitting and giving my camera more opportunity to work.

They never spoke to me. Never. I tipped my head, both stunned and humbled by her fight.

Click.

“Why?” she repeated, her voice quiet as her breathing slowed.

Lowering the camera, I stared at her as though she was stupid. “Because capturing the making of angels is sacred.”

She didn’t scoff or stare at me like I was foolish. Instead, curiously, she nodded faintly. “You . . . you should know . . .” she struggled to say, her mouth unmoving as she pushed her vocal chords to do the work for her. “ . . . That I’m no angel. I have sinned, and as such I will be unblessed.”

I smiled and stepped towards her. She didn’t move back, the chain she hung from still allowing her a little movement. She was simply quite beautiful and was a good choice.

“And in the righteousness shall a seraph ripen to become a beast of the heaven.”

She blinked at my words and as I lifted the lens to finally capture the death that encompassed her, did she whisper back. “And in the beast shall an angel of virtuousness flourish.”