ANITA WALLER

CHAPTER ONE

July 1952

 

 

She wheeled her shiny blue dolls pram across the grass; he watched. His eyes narrowed to slits as he struggled against the brightness of the sun’s rays. He followed every movement she made, wondering what it would feel like to touch the long blonde hair that he had sometimes seen in a tight pony tail and at odd times long and flowing, swinging loosely around her shoulders.

            That’s how he preferred to see her, hair long and free, thistledown soft.  He imagined it tumbling gently, lightly, through his fingers as she smiled innocently up into his face, the slow motion effect of his dream adding to his anticipation.

            And then he would take her, throw her small immature body down on to the grass; use her.  Not love her - no, he didn’t want to love her, just hurt her, hurt her, hurt her and hear her scream.

            Sometimes, in the dark hours of the night when his brain would search frantically for answers, when he felt almost sane, he would wonder why it had to be a little girl rather than a woman he would find release with.

He knew why it had to be that particular little girl. She was beautiful, the prettiest of all the children who played in the park.  Once or twice she had even smiled at him.  Those blue innocent eyes had rested on his face, the pretty mouth lifting at the edges - and he knew she was offering herself to him.

            She stopped and bent over the pram, laying the hood flat with a gentle push of her hand.  Pulling back the covers she lifted out the doll and put it over her shoulder, patting its back and talking to it.  Using one hand she carefully placed a small yellow cover over the pram handle, straightened the small sheet inside the pram and began to hum softly.

Then she bent its legs to replace it in the pram in a more upright position, all the time carrying on the one sided conversation.  Words drifting on the breeze told him that she had named the doll Patty but then her voice was lost to him as she continued to walk across the grass heading for the thicker undergrowth.

            He stood.  He knew he would never get a better opportunity.