A woman stumbles out of a bar at around one in the morning. She is wearing a skimpy bright red dress that just barely covers three inches down her thin thighs. She is completely intoxicated. So much so that she is unable to even realize she has left her purse on the counter back in the bar.
She makes her way to her car, but as said before she does not realize the whereabouts of her purse which incidentally contains the keys to her car. In her drunken stupor she attempts to open her car door, of course failing due to it being locked and her lack of keys.
She becomes enraged at her inability to open the door. The woman begins to hit and kick the car, her perception impaired by rage and an intoxicated haze. She gives up about ten to fifteen minutes later in favor of walking away in her fit of rage. Though I’m not sure walking would be the correct term, for her intoxication and six inch heels seemed to make walking properly impossible.
The woman stumbles away down a sparsely lighted road. Her impaired judgment not being able to recognize the danger this situation could possibly put her in. As if the situation could not get any worse the intoxicated woman decides to take, what in her mind will be, a short cut down a dark alley way. This situation this woman has put herself in is just asking for something bad to happen to her. And wouldn’t it be a shame if nothing bad were to happen?
As if the situation wasn’t perfect enough, the woman begins to become ill about midway through the dark alley way. She leans with one hand bracing the brick wall and spews the contents of her stomach on the already very filthy ground. The woman pushes off the wall, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, and attempts to continue down the alley way. Her intoxicated brain is either unable to process the sound of slow approaching footsteps or is too busy trying to process the alcohol in her system to allow her to hear them.
She will only learn what a mistake it was for her to go out drinking alone tonight, of all nights, once it is too late. She is just the type the man is looking for. Not too tall, not too short; not to heavy, not too thin; face with a nice childlike plumpness to it. Yes she is just what the man is looking for this night. Unbeknownst to her he believes she will make a beautiful doll.
As she continues to stumble down the alley the man walks behind her, at a fair distance; stalking her as if she were the prey and he the predator, all while she remains oblivious to the man’s presence never the less his actions and intentions. The man is waiting for the perfect moment to strike which she gives to him when she once again braces the brick wall and empties her stomach. At this moment the man rushes over, before she has to time to push off the wall or realize what is happening. Taking a rag, presumably soaked in chloroform, the man covers her nose and mouth while concurrently pushing her against the wall as to deter any form of escape.
Even in her drunken stupor the woman’s mind is able to process that she is unable to flee, thus she fights. She thrashes around, in an effort to get free, but her actions are in vain. The woman begins to succumb to the chloroform induced sleep, her thrashing dwindling by the second.
The woman realizes two things before she loses consciousness. First the man who had attacked her had been petting her head the whole time. And second he had whispered something in her ear.
“You’ll be such a beautiful doll, Mon Chéri”