Prologue

In the sparsely furnished room, the air thick with smells of alcohol, sweat, and stale cooking fat, the girl whimpered as he pinned her down with his leg and blindly groped for something beside the bed. He fumbled until he found it: a terra-cotta figure.

The man smiled faintly while he caressed the cold almond eyes and prominent nose with fingers that were long and thin, like an artist’s. He tensed when he couldn’t find the metal ring in the sculpture’s nostrils, then relaxed when he made contact. He brushed his hands over the cold emeralds and along the notches on the right side of the figure, like ritual markings that bridged the gap between him and his sculpture, his Tattooed Man, which stood erect on the dirt floor.

Still fondling the object, he turned his attention to the girl, who was crying now. He pulled himself upright and clutched at her. The iron bed screeched and banged against the wall as he tried to heave himself onto her. She kicked and swatted at him. Just as she struck his face, which already had three long, perfectly symmetrical scars, he released his hold and collapsed on top of her, convulsing, and mumbling incoherently.

~ ~ ~

She waited, suspended in silence under the mass of flesh. A few seconds went by before she realized what had happened and pushed the dead weight off her. She rushed out of the house and into the night.

When the body was discovered half an hour later, the sculpture was gone.