Moira watched the last couple of the night peck each other on the cheek before they went on their separate merry ways. Normally Moira would feel nothing but jealousy over their happiness, but tonight she was just afraid of being alone.

Tonight was, of course, her last.

"Heheh. That's just a stupid thought though. Not like they could do much good when they send the first psycho here. Might just traumatize them... actually I might just like that." Moira thought bitterly as she felt the shadows close in. Death approaching.

Her mind wandered towards all excruciating ways she could leave this world: stabbed to death, perhaps the classic strangulation -- maybe with a ligature if they're sophisticated. Then her mind turned to the possibility of perhaps being disemboweled alive. That made her queasy. She was never a big fan of those when she last saw some guy's guts pulled out like toffee.

And they even came into his open fucking cavity. Jesus.

"If I'm lucky I'd get a weirdo murder-rapist type too." Came her ever uncomforting thoughts.

She could feel herself hyperventilate. Not good. She was hoping she'd at least look cool on camera. But that's just silly. I'd cry and scream and give all these fucking weirdos what they want.

The suspense was killing her. Moira wanted to just stand up and shout at the top of her lungs, daring her would-be killer to just get it over with.

But she didn't. She never had the guts to. Never did.

Instead her mind drifts her sweet mother, and Miria, and how she hoped her pathetic bid at...something...would be good for the two people she gave a shit about. Moira tried very, very hard not to imagine their tears when they discover her ugly corpse, and instead, focused on her mother being healthy again and her big sister finally getting into a good university and being the botanist she always dreamt about instead of dragging around a deadweight like her.

"Yeah, I'm doing the right thing cutting myself out of their lives." Moira deluded herself.

Then the snapping of dry leaves brought her back to reality. Her knuckles were white against the rotting wood. Her yellow eyes darted madly from side to side, picturing where her assailant would come from to rip her to pieces.

"Oh fuck, fuck, fuck! Its happening, its happening..." Moira breathed rapidly, desperately keeping her emotions in check. She had to look her killer in the eye before she goes, she owes herself that much.

Moira's eyes widen in fear as she sees...he? She can't quite make out who it is through the shadows, but she feels a chill run down her spine when their grip tightens on her arm. As he turns her around slowly, she tries to force herself to stand tall and look him in the eye. "Hey..." she whispers timidly, her voice cracking "...who are you?"

"Ungh..."

Moira growls as she's thrown off-guard by the attack. Her eyes dart to and fro, searching for something in this empty park that could possibly help her. There's nothing, though; just trees, grass...and a sinister looking man behind her. His dark gaze fills her with dread.

"Who...who are you?"

she stammers out, her voice barely audible over the thudding of her heart.

Her heart almost stops when she senses movement behind her. Her first instinct is terror. Her second? Hope. Maybe this one would be nice and put her out of her misery right away. She slowly turns around, mustering a weak smile. The man standing before her wasn't what she expected at all. Instead of the animalistic figure she envisioned with savage eyes and sharp teeth, he was almost pretty in his own dark way. Maybe this would hurt less if he were ugly... "Well, hi there..." She says weakly. Her voice sounding distant even to her own ears. He's so close...she could feel his warmth caress her skin. "I guess you're here for me?"

Moira closes her eyes and takes a shaky breath as she's dragged away. At least it won't be so embarrassing this way; she'll never know what happened to her. Her body feels numb, but her mind is racing at a million miles an hour. She tries not to scream, knowing the pain will only come later when he finally decides to do something to her.

She lets out a soft whimper as his rough hands grip even tighter on her arm, her shoulder feeling like it might be dislocated already. "Wh-what do you want?" she manages to choke out between gasps for air. "Please...just kill me quickly..."

Moira lets out a soft gasp as she's roughly grabbed and dragged off to the side, her long braids whipping across her face in painful tugs. "Ow! Hey!" She protests weakly, trying desperately not to look him straight in the eye as he leads her deeper into the shadows "What do you want?"

Her hands begin to tremble uncontrollably and she finds herself wishing this was all just a bad dream. But it's not; the cold hard ground against her back, his rough hands gripping her wrists...these things only serve as reminders that this is real, that he means business. She's not sure why she ever thought killing herself would be a good idea; maybe now she'll understand what it's like to truly die. The anticipation is almost worse than anything else.

Her breath comes in short gasps as she's roughly yanked through the darkness. It seems so real now; it wasn't just a fantasy anymore. The cold wind brushes past her and she shivers, wishing she were dressed warmer for this...adventure. She wonders what would happen next. Would he choke her first? Rape her? Torture her to death? Her thoughts swirl like leaves in the breeze, dancing on the edge of terror and desire.

With a gasp, she's thrown down onto the damp ground, the impact forcing the air from her lungs in a pained wheeze. She struggles feebly to right herself but his hands weigh heavily upon her shoulders, pinning her into place like a frightened insect on display. Her eyes meet his for a moment before she forces them shut again, unable to bear the look of pure malice burning within those dark depths.

As his rough hands grip around her neck, Moira's entire world turns black and white. She can feel her body going limp as she struggles to breathe, but he holds her tightly in place. His cold fingers dig painfully into the soft flesh beneath her chin. The sound of his laughter echoes through her head, muffled by blood rushing to her ears.

Her breath comes out in harsh gasps and wheezes as she tries desperately to break free from his iron grip. But it's no use; he's stronger than her. So much stronger. As her vision begins to dim, she realizes this is it: her last moment alive...and yet, there's something strange about the way he touches her. The rough hands grope at her breasts through her bra, teasing and taunting as if relishing in her helplessness.

Her head spins wildly, a mixture of fear and confusion churning within her. Moira tries one last time to break free from his hold but it's already too late. The darkness creeps closer, enveloping her in its cold embrace as she takes her final breath...and for some reason, that thought doesn't frighten her nearly as much as the thought of never knowing what it would feel like to be touched again...

Her vision begins to blur as the world turns black around the edges. She can feel herself struggling, but it's like her body has given up on her. All she can do is lie there and try not to vomit up her last remaining breath as this monster chokes the life out of her.

Her lungs burn with every inhale, every exhale; it feels like razors are tearing through her throat with each attempt at air. She tries desperately to cry out, but nothing comes past the tightness in her throat except for a quiet gurgle. Her fingernails scratch feebly at his hands, clawing weakly against the strength he possesses as she finally succumbs to the darkness creeping over her vision.

With a final rattle, she goes limp beneath him; her body relaxing into death with almost practiced ease. The pressure on her throat lifts slightly, allowing a gush of air to flow back in and force out the last few rasps from her windpipe. Her chest heaves once before going still, her heart refusing to beat any further.

Moira is dead.

Her body feels cold and limp beneath his hands as he admires her lifeless form. The chill sends shivers down his spine, but it doesn't deter him; instead, he touches her even more roughly now, running his calloused fingers over every inch of her skin before finally disposing of her clothes carelessly on the ground beside her.

Her body lays limp and lifeless beneath his cold hands; he could do whatever he wanted with her now. It was almost like she never existed at all...but then again, that's why she signed up for this in the first place. Death cam would make sure people remembered her. For better or worse.

Her nudity only serves to emphasize how fragile and mortal she truly was. The sight excites him, making him feel powerful...almost invincible. With a sigh, he collapses onto the cold, hard ground next to her lifeless body, running his hand roughly through his hair in frustration.

This wasn't supposed to be like this. He had wanted to make it quick and painless for her. Instead, she struggled so much...it brought back memories he'd rather forget. Stifling a groan, he forces himself up onto one elbow, taking in the sight of her lifeless form one last time before rising to his feet and silently disappearing into the darkness once more.

Her body will be found eventually; that much is certain. But by then it won't matter anymore. She's already gone from this world, and with her death, another dark secret remains buried deep within the shadows where it belongs...

Moira's pale body feels cold as ice in death. Her once supple curves now slack against the damp ground. Even in death, she looks soft and alluring; his hands move over her skin, caressing her breast before sliding down to cup her smooth, dark ass. He squeezes, relishing in the feel of her weight against his grip. She is perfect...perfect for him.

A shiver runs down his spine as he parts her legs and leans forward, breath hot against her sex. Her innocence is like a gift to him; something precious to be cherished before it's stripped away forever. He presses his lips against her soft curls, tasting the saltiness of death as he parts them with gentle nibbles.

Her body aches and throbs as he cups her breasts, his lips searing hot against her flesh. She's glad she had enough milk for him; it makes her feel useful even in death. The pain of strangulation has long since faded away, leaving only a dull ache in the back of her skull where he kneed her once.

His lips finally meet her skin, parting the folds of flesh between her legs with soft nibbles that feel almost tender against the cold dead flesh. A whimper escapes from deep within her chest, and she feels a strange sensation spread through her entire body: arousal. It's like some perverse joke being played on her corpse; death was supposed to bring relief, not this...desire.

Her hips writhe helplessly against his touch, wanting more even as she fights against it with every fiber of her now nonexistent being. His tongue slips inside her, and the taste of herself on him only serves to heighten the sensation. She's never experienced anything like this...it feels too real, too vivid to be happening to a dead girl.

Her nails scratch futilely at the ground as he feasts on her, his tongue dancing expertly across every inch of her most sensitive flesh. Her body arches off the ground with

Her body tenses involuntarily as he takes one of her breasts into his mouth, suckling hungrily on the lifeless nipple. A groan rises up in her throat, barely audible over the sound of his pleasure. It's not long before warmth fills her empty stomach once more; her milk spilling out between his lips and down his chin like liquid gold.

As he continues to feast on her breasts, Moira can feel herself growing increasingly aroused despite being dead. Her hips buck involuntarily against the cool air, seeking some sort of release that she'll never get now. It only serves to heighten his pleasure, making him grow more possessive as he grasps her hips tightly in his hands and forces her to meet his thrusts with each hungry mouthful from her breast.

Her back arches off the bench, her head thrown back in ecstasy...or what passes for it now. Her nails scrape helplessly at his shoulders as she begs for more, for release, for anything that would quell this strange ache deep inside her. It's a desire that will forever go unfulfilled; for she is dead, and only death can truly bring her peace.

Her hips shift restlessly against his grip as he continues to fondle her breasts, grinning triumphantly into the darkness. She's his now, no longer her own; a vessel for him to use and abuse however he pleases. Her head lolls limply to the side, exposing her neck to him like an offering. His free hand trails lightly up her thigh, teasing at her folds before moving higher still, caressing her stomach.

With a savage growl, he parts her legs wider and presses his lips to the most intimate part of her, sucking eagerly at the tender flesh there. It tastes sweet and salty; the flavor of life mingling with death in an eerie reminder that this is real...that she's gone. His teeth scrape against her skin as he savors the taste, unable to help himself.

Her lifeless body quivered beneath his assault, but it didn't fight back...it didn't resist. It was too late for that now. Moira had given up everything when she signed her name on that dotted line. He could do whatever he wanted with her remains...and as he continued to feast upon her nether regions, he couldn't help but feel a strange sort of gratitude toward her.