Page 7

Chapter 6

Lit Fuse

J ess has no idea about the horrible things I’ve done in my past. I very much plan on keeping it that way considering most of my past is brutal torture, murder, and lots of rape—before, during, and after said torture and murder. I know that I am the vilest of vile. This girl, though, she’s my fresh start. She is my rebirth. All those horrific things that used to define me are now a thing of the past. Well, almost all of them.

One thing I love, and I honestly don’t think it’s that big of a deal, is stalking. Only people with something to hide would be really bothered by it. Which is why I would use my toenail clippers to snip off as much skin as I could before they lost consciousness and then jerk off into the open wounds until they fucking died—if someone did it to me. Luckily, I am a nobody, a ghost, not in any system, not on any radar. I was presumed dead a long, long time ago, which is just fine with me now.

There are lots of reasons why stalking someone tickles me. One of them being that you get to see a person for who they really are. People are more themselves than when they’re alone and think nobody’s watching.

I know I am.

Up next on my list to follow is the beautiful love of my life, Jess. The one that’s shown me just what it feels like to be an actual person and not this creature of death. And so far, she lives the cutest, most ordinary life. Perfect.

It's 8am and time for her to go to work. The cool morning air licks my skin as I stand far enough back that she couldn’t make out who I was, even if she could see me. Little miss pretty face is a waitress at a local diner. With the way she can talk to people in combination with how attractive she is, it makes sense that she would choose a job that involves tipping. Lucky for me, she also walks most places, since I kind of wrecked the only car I had.

A shiver shimmers down my spine, but it's not from the cold. I need to fucking kill something soon. My body gives me a very specific warning when it's been too long since I’ve eviscerated the life force from someone's little meat suit. I will have to rectify that soon. I do want to quit feeding the worms, but I can’t do it… what's that stupid phrase? ... Oh, cold turkey.

I haven’t had the fuckin’ stones to go into the diner while she’s working and get something to eat or drink. Partly because I am afraid I’d rip that cute little skirt up and fuck that juicy little pussy right on the counter. All the locals watching the girl they probably saw grow up in this little town get slammed onto the counter by her throat, legs spread wide open as I stuff her cunt with my hard cock until I fill her with my seed. Maybe she’ll cumfart out my load into a cup of coffee and use it as a creamer. I wouldn’t put it past her, my filthy wild girl.

As the hours tick by, I smirk at the thoughts. The amount of times my dick has gotten hard and then soft just thinking about the endless amount of dirty, filthy, nasty sex we are going to have. What if I get her interested in killing too? She definitely seems like she would try anything once. Everytime a new fantasy grows in my mind, my balls swell with the primal need to empty them inside her.

In between those fantasies, I think about her life and how… basic it is. She really doesn’t do much, and from what I’ve seen over the past week, she doesn't have any other guys chasing her. Which leads me to wonder, why was she at that hotel bar? Maybe someone stood her up?

I’ll fucking kill him.

Maybe the date went sideways, and she told him to fuck off, but she hung back to drink the shitty night away, upgrading herself from a creep to a fucking psycho.

I’ll fucking kill him.

Maybe it went well, and he had to go home, but she stayed to bask in the afterglow with another drink.

I’ll fucking kill him.

It’s becoming clear that—whatever the reason she was at the bar—I have to kill someone because of it. I wish I was wrist deep inside someone’s screaming body right now. Listening to them beg to be let go, just so I could laugh at them. Watching the realization that survival is not in the cards is just so fucking funny.

Either way, it was fate because—whatever happened to get her there—she found me, and I found her. The love that we have is unlike anything on this wretched celestial dirtball. A bond stronger than granite, a connection that's….. She keeps checking her phone a lot tonight.

I’m not super technologically inclined, but I wish there was a way I could see what's on her phone. I need to know who is making her smile like that, so I can rip their throat out and use their esophagus as a fleshlight. My blood is starting to boil as I clench my fists, checking the time.

4:55pm

Time for her to go home. Ok, it’s ok. Everything is ok. Tonight, after we get home and I fuck her until she’s unconscious, I will go through her phone and figure out who she’s talking to. Maybe it isn’t as bad as I’m making it seem. Could be a friend sending funny cat videos, or whatever the fuck people do these days. I will find out who my love is talking to. My love. I smile at even the thought of that word and how easily I found my person. I can’t help but feel that tingling feeling everytime she crosses my mind.

She finishes cleaning her little area and says her goodbyes to the staff before stepping out the front door. Another look at her phone with another smile. This smile is not in response to something cute, there is something wicked about that one. It’s… almost like the way she smirks at me. I have a very weird, sick feeling in the pit of my stomach that I’ve never felt before. It isn’t the awesome feeling I get when I’m with her; this one makes me sad and very, very fucking angry. How bizarre.

I follow her while still keeping some distance, just not as much as this morning. It doesn’t take long, however, before my love is not taking her usual path home. In fact, I don’t think the way we are walking leads to where she lives at all. Where are we going, little one?

The urge to step off to the side and call her and see what she’s up to pulses through me. If she wants me to come over and give her the mind bending orgasms that only I can give her. But… I need to see how this plays out first.

The sun is setting as the dark claws its way up the sky. This is a much longer walk, and it's giving me too much time to spiral. Where the fuck are we going?

After a few more minutes of walking and a couple more turns later, we end up at a house I’ve never seen before. I watch her as she walks up to the door.

My eyes never leave her.

I watch as she knocks, hoping maybe it's her sister's house or friend’s house or…. A man opens the door.

My eyes never leave her.

The blood drains from my face as he leans in and kisses her, an arm around her lower back as hers twist around his neck to pull him tight to her mouth. Now, the blood drains from my heart. No…. No…. How… I… We are…

As she crosses the threshold with that little laugh that I thought was all mine to swallow in between stolen kisses, I feel my stomach spin tight. All the contents of my gut get forced up my throat and out of my mouth like someone stomped on a tube of toothpaste. Thick, chunky strings of vomit dangle from my lips as another wave of puke rushes out of my throat—bouncing off my teeth and caught in the powerful current I'm spewing out of my body. A bit of the acidic mixture finds its way out of my nostrils and causes my eyes to water.

I stand and look down at the mess I made… the mess that she made me make. So many chunks of unidentifiable solids from however long the food has been rotting in my guts. The slop I just ejected is like a visual representation of the feelings I have for her—messy, mangled, and forcing its way out of my body.

As my stomach settles, I'm drawn to the pain behind my ribcage. I don’t understand. The image of her kissing him rapes my heart repeatedly, stealing its beauty, crushing its momentary lapse of innocence, and butchering what I thought we had in such a brutal way that I’m actually a little jealous. I swear I can hear my heart shattering in my chest, but it could also be my teeth cracking in my own mouth with how hard I'm clenching them.

My eyes are still leaking, and I’m realizing that it probably isn’t from vomiting. I walk through the yard to one of the windows on the first floor that doesn’t have the blinds drawn. I cup my hands on the glass to shield the glare from the moon and street lights.

I hear Father laughing and can see his face smiling at me. All those times he told me I was worthless, I didn’t want to believe him. When he said nobody could ever love me, I yearned for that to be just another way he kept me broken and obedient. And then I found her. The one that made me believe, like a fucking idiot, that Father was wrong.

Tears leak out of my eyes as I close them, trying to wash away the imagine of this stranger sliding his little dick into my girl. I can hear the muffled sound of her moaning. The same moans she fed me. The same lies. If I had anything left in my stomach, I’d throw up one more time. But there’s nothing left inside me. No bile, no love, no compassion, no sympathy, no hope, nothing. Father was right. I’m a worthless fucking monster.