Sunlight filtered through the partially closed blinds, creating a pattern of artificial lines across her pale skin. She lay still upon the bed, arms out-stretched, hair framing her face, like a sacrificial offering. His eyes roamed her body, flawless, save for a small yellow tattoo above her left ankle. Leaning closer, he noticed a small yellow star smiling up at him, dressed as a cowboy, with a ten gallon hat on its head and a gun in each hand.
He snorted, amused, reaching out to caress her leg with a calloused, but gentle, hand. Such exquisite beauty deserved to be displayed, admired, like a priceless work of art. He took a step back and gazed at the traces of confusion still lingering in her warm brown eyes.
“Perfection,” he whispered.
Silently, he placed the photograph carefully between her developing breasts. Satisfied, he made his way to the street, blending seamlessly with the crowd outside. Leaving the door open would ensure that she would be found quickly. He smiled.
Let the games begin.