He grips her wrist tightly, an amused laugh coming out like a hiss. How did he not see it before? Her hair is different. She’s older, of course… that was three years ago? Four? But those eyes… he really should have remembered.

The look on her face; she remembers now too.

It’s delicious really. Eleven girls over the years… only one that got away… only one that didn’t reach that beautiful poetic climax. But now, a second chance.

He uncoils the piano wire with his free hand. She starts to struggle.

Delicious.

He thrusts her arm backwards, twisting it until it threatens to snap. She struggles against him… kicks, hits, screams. But Adam is practiced. Patient. He waits for his opening, then swings his arm around her, looping the wire around her throat.

He pulls, sharply. It bites her flesh.

A shame he can’t see her face. In the struggle she ended facing forward.

She probably thinks he’s purposefully tracked her down. Let her. It only adds to the moment.

“Drive,” he says, “Normal. Nothing stupid.”