The Diary Of Pamela D.

'No!' She began sobbing, shaking her head, as if to dispel the hold he had on her. 'That isn't true. You don't know what you're talking about.' But his words so closely resembled her own doubts that she was no longer sure. Saying words, only to try and fend off his invasive insinuations, she blurted, 'You're just trying to twist his words.'

'Am I?' Albert approached her once more with growing certainty in every dangerous line of his giant frame. 'You know yourself what an unfeeling man he is. How many times have I seen the truth of him reflected in your eyes? Ask yourself: Why do you doubt him? Why? Because the man has no feelings, Pamela, especially not for you. The only reason he's being nice to you now is so that he can become married to you, and being married to you means protecting his inheritance. That's all you are to him. As long as you're tied to his coattails, working for him, he's no longer in danger of losing out on his mum's cash.' He moved closer to her, until she neared the balcony door. 'But I'm different, Pamela. I just want you for yourself. Trust me, you'll see. Now, do be a good girl and take your clothes off. I'm not going to hurt you if you do what I say . . . but if you disobey . . . ' His face was expressionless, unreadable, but he made a cutting gesture with the knife that caused her to begin weeping in terror. She made a move to disrobe, her heart pounding- but then she stopped, faced him once more.

'This isn't how it normally goes for you, is it?' Pamela asked him bitterly, feeling a timid surge of anger. 'They're usually on their backs by now, doing whatever it is you want them to do. That's really what this is all about, isn't it? This isn't about Theo, or me, or all those girls you killed. It's really all about you, about this sick little game you play, about the way you manipulate terrified, helpless young women into desperately trying to please you, but all the while they're really hoping, praying, trying to believe that in the end, you're not going to kill them.'

'But I'm not going to kill you,' he said, doubt and anger flickering momentarily behind the veil of compassion he tried to draw over his features.

'Oh, but that's your usual line, isn't it,' she rejoined. 'I'm supposed to want to believe you enough to save my own life.'

'Don't you?' he said, and there was something unspeakably evil in his eyes that almost had her gibbering with terror. 'Don't you believe in me, Pamela? Don't you want to come out of this alive?'