His fiery eyes glared back at him, bloody, staring… mad. For the first time, Kom saw his demon emerge, saw it come and slide behind those eyes and take control.
He gripped the sides of the sink as the mania launched itself upon him and shook his body. It had never been stronger, he felt himself crumble under the onslaught and knew he was powerless. It was the wrong time, the wrong place, too dangerous, too dangerous, but the mania gripped him and shook him like a rag and he knew he must give in to it. He tried to struggle, tried to assert his reason as he had done when the demon had demanded that he kill To vah, but his will was impotent. Kom had never known it like this, it was not merely insistent, it was titanic and absolutely imperious. He had to clutch the sink in order not to be knocked to the floor as he trembled and quaked with the mania's might.
When he gave in, when he relinquished his will to the mania, he began to laugh with the joy of it. Still watching himself through his crimson eyes, he tossed his head back and laughed and laughed. He unzipped his pants and his penis sprang forth, swollen and ready. He clapped a hand over his mouth lest his laughter tear the house apart.
Karen heard the noise coming from the bathroom and moved closer. It sounded like laughter, wild, unrestrained, lunatic, and she felt an instinctive fear that she quickly suppressed. She was a strong, competent, highly trained professional; she had nothing to fear in her own house, and certainly not from a marshmallow like Stanley Kom. The sound was abruptly muted and became a sort of strangled cry.
"Are you all right?" she asked, leaning toward the bathroom door. She heard his voice but could not make out the meaning.
"Stanley?"
"Help," he murmured. She put her ear to the door, not sure she had heard him correctly, not wanting to intrude if she was wrong. "Stanley? Are you all right?"
"Help me," he said, scarcely louder. Karen opened the door and found him on the floor, his back to her, his face resting on the side of the bathtub. "What happened?" she demanded in alarm.
"Can't get up," he said weakly. "Dizzy."
She stepped to his side, took hold of the hand that he lifted toward her.
"Help me up," he said, rolling his eye toward her, unable to lift his head. She bent beside him, putting her arm around his back. Kom slid his own arm around her back, then grabbed her legs with his other hand and lifted. Karen pitched face forward into the bathtub and Kom scrambled atop her, pinning her in place with his weight on her back.
As she came to herself from the first shock of the fall, Karen felt Kom's hand gripping her neck. He was saying something about letting him do it, it wouldn't hurt, but it was not his words that had meaning, it was his weight upon her, the insistent thrust of his swollen flesh against her, the squeezing of her neck. Prevented by the confines of the tub from moving, she reached back with her arm and pulled his hand from her neck.
"You mustn't resist," Kom said, clamping his fingers on her neck once more. "It's just something I have to do, please let me do it, Karen, it won't take long, it won't hurt you, I promise it won't hurt…
She grabbed for him again, reaching backward as far as she could, and caught his ear. She pulled with all her strength and heard him howl in pain. He pushed her head hard into the porcelain, then clutched at her neck once again. Fighting dizziness and a growing nausea, she clawed at his hand again, turning her head desperately from side to side. His penis probed at her but his weight had her completely pinioned there and she could not move to resist him. She tried to thrash from side to side but the porcelain gave her no purchase and the narrow limits of the tub provided no place to squirm.
Kom gripped her hair and used it to lift her head before slamming it again and again into the drain. She reached back, clawing for his face, but he fended her off with an elbow while continuing to pound. Finally her struggles ceased and she went limp. Kom could see blood trickling from under her face and into the drain.
He knew she was only stunned from the blows, but it would keep her quiet long enough for him to finish the job properly. He clasped her neck once more, made sure that he could feel the pulse under his fingers, and squeezed. There was no need to be gradual now, no need to worry about her discomfort. He clamped down hard.
The mania surged through him, making him want to howl in triumph. It was a supreme moment and he experienced it with perfect clarity, saw the hair stirred by her breath, saw the tiny bumps and dents in the porcelain like pores in skin, heard the sound of his own heart pound.
Every movement seemed to be slowed down a hundred times and he could see the components of every motion.
Her legs relaxed, giving him greater access at last, and he thrust forward to enter her, dropping his face close to her head. Karen pushed with both arms and lashed her head back, catching him flush in the face with her skull. He bellowed in pain and surprise and in his moment of con fusion Karen twisted to one side, almost propelling herself to her shoulder. She jabbed at his eyes and missed, tried to hit him in the throat with her knuckles, but then he recovered and was at her again, this time with a fury. She pushed against the tub with all of her strength, trying to turn him, but his weight was too much and she fell back, confined, unable to maneuver.
Kom smashed her head against the porcelain again, snarling with anger now. His own blood poured from his nose onto the back of her neck and he was incensed, outraged, that she had fooled him and hurt him and nearly escaped. She continued to fight and every bit of her resistance infuriated him further.
When she fell limp this time, he knelt on her back, forgetting the sex, and gripped her neck with both hands. His lust was gone and the mania, too, had vanished during the struggle, leaving him with only his anger.
He would kill her now, not because the demon required it, not because of the thrill, but because he had to save himself. And because she deserved it.
His breathing sounded strange to him and he realized that his nose was broken. More of his blood fell onto her neck and his fingers slipped before regaining their grip.
There was a sudden change of atmosphere in the house, the curtain rippled, and Kom could hear the sound of the night and the rising winds clearly. Someone had opened the door.
Without a second's hesitation he rose from the tub and went directly to the bedroom window. He could hear footsteps coming toward the bedroom but he did not panic. Even as he dropped from the window onto the flower bed and ran toward the woods he was proud of how calm he was, how well he responded to the situation. He felt exhilarated, eager to face another challenge. He was still in control.
Becker had noticed the open window and started toward it when he heard the groan from the bathroom. Karen's face was awash with blood but her voice was strong as she pushed him away.
"Kom," she said.
"I know.
Karen spat blood and allowed Becker to assist her to a sitting position.
"Get him," she said.
"You need help," he said.
She pushed him away again. "Get him. Get him."
Becker dialed 911 before climbing through the bedroom window.
With the audio device turned on, the sound of the rain hitting the canopy of leaves overhead made it seem as if he were standing in a shower stall. He adjusted the volume level, trying to factor out the noise of the rain and the roaring of the wind. At first he could hear nothing over the background noise but eventually his ear adjusted and he could distinguish other sounds. He heard a branch break with a loud report, and then a grunt. Animals did not grunt because of their own awkwardness. It was Kom and he was moving too fast for efficiency under the circumstances. He had not allowed his eyes to adjust to the dark after being indoors and was paying the price now with his careless passage. Becker stepped farther into the woods, taking himself at an angle to Kom's line of flight, and moving slowly until he could distinguish the shapes in front of him.