Page 21

Cole: July 2014

It’s a mutual friend's 30th birthday party and I arrive first. These are the kind of social obligations that are expected from me, and I personally could do with never attending another party ever again. There’s always something; someone’s birthday, engagement, baby shower, wedding, separation… The possibilities are endless and there is always something that someone is trying to invite me to.

I have to go to most, and this one is expected of me; I am meant to be here. I am best friends with the birthday boy who has been my friend since primary school. It’s always been the same group of friends all these years, no matter what they do or where they go. We always end up back here, together. Although, no one has ever left for long. Rosemond has a way of getting its claws into us all.

Even me, I feel better being here. This town, I’ve never had much inclination to leave and explore the world the way most people do. Others enjoy travelling. I find it troubling; the hassle, the stress and the differences from my own small world. It’s safe at home where my tools, my knives, my work is being done. I can’t imagine travelling abroad. How would I be able to successfully kill someone? Without all the tools I need to complete the kill and clean up the inevitable mess. The blood, the disposal of the body and all the evidence? It could lead back to me.

No, it just doesn’t work for me.

What if the unthinkable happened and I was caught?

My need to kill is exact and doesn’t stop just because I take a holiday. It’s why I rarely even use my holidays at work, even if I am staying at home. I like my routine; I enjoy the normalcy of it. It helps to keep the killing like clockwork, easy, dependable and practicable. It keeps everything in balance for me, as much as balance is possible.

My whole equilibrium is jolted as she walks through the door. Even with my back to her, I can sense her walking into the hall. It's set up with a dance floor, loud banging music with a bar for everyone. There are balloons and decorations all around. All it has done is remind me that I too, will be turning 30 this year.

I honestly didn’t think I’d live long enough to see such an age.

I turn from my own date and look towards Sundrop as she enters with her fucking piece of shit boyfriend. I want him dead; it takes everything in me not to murder him. I’ve thought about it so many times. If anyone deserves it, he does. What he does not deserve is that angel of a brunette next to him.

She’s looking skinnier than she has in a while, not as thin as she used to be when I had been worried about her. It’s never mattered to me about her weight, which seems to have yo-yoed a lot over the years. She’s stunningly beautiful no matter what, everyone thinks so. She’s a regular topic of discussion in the boys chat I belong to. I’ve told her about that a few times. How all my friends, and I, talk about all the dirty disgusting things we want to do to her. I laugh at them because for some reason, maybe that’s because her shitty boyfriend goes on about how bad she is in bed. They all believe that she’s some innocent little angel who wouldn’t even know what to do with a cock.

Yet I’ve known her long enough to know she once wanted to be a professional Dominatrix and is into pegging. That’s something at the time when she told me, did turn me all the way off. I didn’t think Luna would be capable of turning me off. I didn't think I’d like that, however, over the years I’ve on occasion, not often, but I have wondered what it would be like. Never with anyone else though. Only her, part of me, in the darkest of my dirtiest fantasies thinks about Sundrop taking my ass and having her way with me. I don’t think she’d be sweet; I think she’s fuck me better than I could even fuck her. There’s something dark and masculine about her for all her feminine beauty.

I’ve never done anal, and she seems to love anything ass related. Something about that act always disgusted me and yet, I know her ass would be sweet and juicy. Most of my fantasies involve eating that ass and pussy.

Why she is even with this asshole though, it fucking frustrates me.

She obviously likes assholes, I grin to myself, happy with how clever and witty I am.

I’m ignoring my date, so I grab Stephanie’s hand and try to pay attention to something other than the beautiful creature who is walking towards me. She hugs me from behind and I throw my other arm around her and pull her in. Fuck, she smells good. Something citrusy, fresh and intoxicating. I want to bury my nose into her hair, I don't do it though. Especially since what I really want is to bury my nose into her cunt.

I don’t do that either.

There was a point where she wanted to connect with me freely. Always finding ways to touch me, hug me or just have a simple hold on me like a gentle pat on the arm. Maybe she needed reassurance that I was still there, always there beside her. We’ve never talked about it, the friendship we have, the devastating crush I have on her. Unrequited love? Limerence? I’ve researched every psychological term known to man and it doesn’t give me any answers because a psychopath like me? Is not supposed to feel things like love. I’ve concluded that we can, I certainly can, so it must just be an assumption based on misinformation and lack of understanding in emotional maturity that we are unable to love.

The devotion I have to her is eclipsing. Even just standing next to me as her friend, I would kill her boyfriend, burn, then bury whatever remained of his shitty body and destroy all the evidence of his existence. Especially if he ever laid a hand on her. I do think he is capable of that. I would lie, cheat and steal for her. Well, I already have. I would do it again.

The touching though, that’s lessened the more she’s with this pig. Something about her is disappearing a little, it’s like no one else is noticing. I don’t like it.

She makes a joke about my tie being stupid looking and I make a joke about her face being stupid looking and we laugh, a natural extension of who we both are to one another. A string connecting us and always some inside joke between us. The laughter has always come easy.

I see him and he’s watching me, an angry, entitled look that sees more than I want him to. I watch as Stephanie stares not at me but at Sundrop, there’s disappointment and something else there, suspicion?

Everyone loves Sundrop, but at the same time, women never seem to like her that much. I’ve never actually seen or heard her do anything specific to deserve this, yet it’s there anyway. A distance and detachment that women have with her. Usually, it's to keep their boyfriends or husbands away from her. As if she’s some cheating homewrecker. Yet, for everyone who goes on about how much of a slut she is, I don’t think people realise just how picky Sundrop is with who she fucks.

Besides, it’s not her fault if she’s every man’s type. She’s absolutely mine. Even if Stephanie’s not really. I guess Stephanie does have something to worry about. When I fuck her, like I will later, it’ll be while I remind myself of this angel’s smell, of how her ass and tits looked in this dress. I’ll think about that look in her eyes as she smiled at me, the sound of her laughter as I had made her laugh.

I didn’t particularly choose Stephanie, she just announced herself in my life one day earlier in the year and as I had to remind myself, I am going to be 30 years old. One thing I’ve learned from all the reading I’ve done on serial killers over the years is that they are always male, white, live alone, have few relationships or friendships, no steady job. So, I tried to do the opposite and keep my group of friends I’ve had my whole life, even if they are a bunch of idiots. They would defend my name until their dying day. They are that loyal. I need that. I’ve also, since my breakdown a few years back, been making sure to work hard at my job and I’ve recently had a promotion. I’m proud of that because otherwise I wouldn’t have been stable enough to live on my own.

Work gives me something to concentrate and focus on and allows me to stalk my victims. And a relationship, I’ve never wanted one or commitment. I’ve been avoiding institutions my whole life, and marriage to me is like a life sentence in prison or being committed to an asylum. The only person I've ever had any kind of feelings for is Sundrop.

As she stands beside me. I smile at her; it’s a genuine smile. It’s always confused me because I didn’t think I could love anything and yet I have strong emotions towards her. Initially I did think it was just lust, I thought I wanted to kill her. The normal bloodlust that is always just underneath and slightly out of reach. I place my hand on her back. I normally avoid touching her myself because I can only imagine my hand burning a mark on her, claiming her as mine.

So, I run my hand slowly down her back, looking at her boyfriend. I want so desperately to touch her ass especially here in front of everyone but that’s an intrusive thought I need to keep to myself. So, I do my best and remove my hand all together and nod to her, telling her the dress doesn’t suit her. I wink though, she knows it’s not true. She knows how to dress and is confident to the point of being regularly called arrogant stronger, smarter.

“Would you dance with me?” Her asking startles me a little. “What?” I say, taken aback. “Would you dance with me?” She repeats. With the loud music, she thinks I couldn't hear her and starts to enunciate each word slowly and clearly. I did hear her, I didn’t understand what she had asked me. “Dance? Me?”

I’m puzzled, it must show off my face because her smile changes to something quite sad. “Yes… I wanted to dance and well…” She looks across at her boyfriend unhappily as she watches him animated and talking, clearly having a great time with his friends instead of her and I realise how sad she is with him. She wants to dance, and he just wants to sit on his arse and talk to other people. They don’t seem to have anything in common. It’ll never last.

She looks back to me, pleading in her eyes but I say the wrong thing because she’s caught me off guard. “I’m a terrible dancer,” I laugh. Emotions flit across her face as she nods, almost as if that’s what she expected me to say. Disappointment in me too. “It’s ok, I shouldn’t have asked.”

I am a fucking terrible dancer, and my girlfriend will probably hate me for it, but I can’t in that moment bear that I’ve let Sundrop down. She seems genuinely depressed and even I can tell there’s something deeper going on. It’s not really about dancing.

I take a drink; we both usually have a laugh at each other’s taste in alcohol as neither of us generally drinks anything harder than alcopops. Usually, she makes fun of me for drinking pretty coloured drinks even though she does the same. We just take the piss out of one another for the sake of it, never actually offending each other. I drink my blue drink and almost choke back on laughter, as I grab her hand and haul her up.

She looks shocked and starts to protest, changing her mind after my rejection but I don’t let her, fuck it.

“You want to dance, then we’ll dance.” I’m sure this will only cause trouble but she’s mine and for one evening, I’m going to pretend she’s just that.

I keep a hold of her hand and pull her over to the dance floor. I can’t keep any kind of rhythm, so I have no idea what I’m about to do but I set her up in front of me in the middle of the dance floor. There thankfully are a few others dancing or swaying about drunkenly at least.

I’m grateful when she smiles, a laugh breaking out as she moves first and gives me some direction I desperately need. I don’t even know what song is playing because my God in heaven, she is dancing like the stripper of my dirtiest daydreams. Swaying sinfully in front of me and making my cock rock hard at the sight.

She’s always been able to dance, and I keep a close watch on her as she moves. I can’t mimic what she's doing exactly, I’m not even sure my hips have that kind of movement range. I get the sudden urge to kiss her, and I almost do, the repercussions be damned. Beautiful and graceful, she’s moving in front of me, and I realise I never let go of her hand. She’s using that connection to move, to swing her hips and I watch her chest move, seeing the shape of those fucking tits under her dress.

I’ve dreamt about her naked so many times. I fuck to the thought of her, and I wank over her always. My cock is hard and pressed against my suit trousers. It’s uncomfortable because all I want is to be inside of her. I think about her long dark hair and getting a fist full at the back of her head, pulling her face up and leaning down the distance to kiss her. Her hand in mine is divine, a spiritual reminder that the cord that exists between us is a real thing. I like to believe it's not, but I can feel it when she touches me, it's why I try not to touch her anymore. Can she feel it too, she must?

Does she know we're meant to be together?

I can’t help but look towards that dickhead and see that he is watching us. That fucking stare is something evil, he’s like me, I’ve always believed it. I wonder sometimes if she’s in danger. He’s watching us and I smile at him, it’s a cold smile, there’s nothing warm in it. I know it won’t reach my eyes, but I want him to know, she’s mine. Maybe not today, but one day. He’s just keeping her company now. He smiles back at me and it’s something that someone else might find intimidating, but I don’t. I don’t care how he feels.

I turn back towards my angel and she’s having a great time, she’s smiling widely, and I move with her more confidently. It’s not dancing but I’m moving and I’m making the effort to be here with her so she can enjoy herself. That must count for something.

She doesn’t let go of my hand, but we don’t touch anywhere else. I want to, I want to pull her in and smell her again, press her body against mine and keep her there forever. I want to kiss her and hold her hand all night. I don’t ever want to let her go.