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Natural Causes

James Oswald

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Published by DevilDog Publishing, 2012

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2012 James Oswald

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without the permission of the author.

James Oswald has asserted his right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.

All characters in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to a real person, living or dead, is coincidental.

Cover by

JT Lindroos

ISBN 978-0-9530473-4-5

More from the author at

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Smashwords Edition, Licence Notes

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Table of Contents

Cover

Beginning

Middle

End

About the Author

Free sample of The Book of Souls

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1

Then

She screams when the first nail goes in.

Bright pain rips through her hand as she struggles against him, pinned to the floor by the weight of his body. This isn't right. He shouldn't hurt her. He's a good man, a handsome man. A kind man. He helped her family through the war.

'Please. Don't.

' She tries to scream but a hand clasps over her mouth, forcing it closed. Figures move in the shadowy edges of her vision, pawing at her, holding her down, breathing in the heavy darkness. Someone grabs her wrist, pulls her arm wide. Her fingers crack against the floor. Hammer hits nail, ripping skin and cartilage, forcing another scream out through her nose. She kicks out, struggling against the weight on top of her and the cold steel pins that gouge through her flesh. Crucified, her hands slide slippery against the metal as she scrabbles to break free, foiled by the jagged and bent heads, the shafts sunk deep into the wooden floor.

His weight lifts off her, and she catches a glimpse of his face in the darkness. His eyes gleam, his features blurred by her tears, distorted as if something is trying to burst out through his skin. She thrashes against him as he drags up her dress, tears away her panties and her nylon stockings. Something glints in the pale light filtering under the door. She feels a cold, flat pressure on her bare belly, stroking her skin and raising goose-bumps as it traces its way down. A warm wetness trickles between her thighs and the sweet smell of urine fills the air. She is going to die here, violated by this man she has trusted all her life.

Her knees pop as rough hands grab her ankles, stretching her legs wide, pulling the bloody wounds in her palms tight against their cruel bonds. Strong hands push her feet flat to the floor. She can hear bones cracking, the noise of steel on steel as nails are driven home. The agony comes in waves, starring her vision.