Alone in her bedroom, the sound of a powerful thunderstorm building outside her windows, Simone pondered one of life’s eternal questions, “Why do I have the same exact nightmare every stormy night.”

I awaken in darkness to find myself lying on my side, naked and hog tied on a cold concrete floor, my wrist and elbows bound behind my back, with my bound ankles secured to my wrists by an uncomfortably short length of rope. Seconds later, blindingly bright lights switch on, and I hear the door thrown open. Squinting in the painful brightness I can just make out two men, both dressed all in black, their faces concealed beneath masks, coming toward me. Suddenly, one of them grabs a handful of my long hair and painfully pulls me up onto my knees. Blinking back my tears I realize the second man is holding a compact video camera ready to record every vile and perverted thing their planning to do to me. Glancing into to the camera, I’d never felt this degraded, this humiliated, this utterly and completely vulnerable. My assailant roughly pulls my head backward by my hair, the sudden presence of his knee pressing between my shoulders forcing my body to arch almost suggestively as the bright flash of polished steel appears before my eyes. An instant later, I feel the sensation of cold steel pressing against the side of my throat. Instinctively, I glance upward to stare into the cruel merciless eyes of my killer as he brutally draws his knife across my throat, its sharp unforgiving blade cutting painfully deep into my vulnerable throat. Still staring up into his eyes, I can see that familiar look of smug satisfaction in his cold eyes as I start to choke on my own blood. It’s warm copper taste filling my mouth and leaking out around the sides of that oversized ball gag, that sickening sensation of hot blood running down over my breasts and belly as I start to feel faint. Suddenly, I find myself laying on my side as my killer releases his grip on my hair. I can feel myself growing colder with each desperate beat of my pounding heart. The last thing I see, as I gradually lose consciousness, the slowly spreading pool of my own blood.

“And are all my dreams of blood destined merely to remain nothing more than dreams? Or, are they diabolically insidious premonitions of things to come? Personally, I can’t wait to find out...”