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7

GHOST

K nock.

Knock.

Ask who’s there, beautiful Delilah.

She hasn’t changed out of her husband’s t-shirt despite him leaving her alone. It gives her comfort. A false one at best, but comfort, nonetheless.

I’ve spent too long watching her. Waiting for her. I’m always waiting for her. But she never waited for me, and now she’ll learn that was her biggest mistake.

The glass house only provides her the illusion of safety and I watch as the gentle breeze shakes the leaves on the branches above my head. This is what she’s resorted me to. Some fucking creep hiding in the bushes while she happily flits between the rooms of her house of lies.

Aiming the laser pointer so it hits the wall opposite her, I press my thumb on the bottom and say her name, “Delilah,” before doing it again. The glass she was bringing to her lips slowly slips through her fingers at the small projected word.

Knock.

Knock.

“Delilah.”

Knock.

Knock.

It shatters near her feet, but she doesn’t jump. Her white socks soak up the liquid, turning transparent at the edges and they’ll leave a little trail for me to follow her steps if she tries to escape. But she remembers me and knows who I am. That’s the reason she doesn’t run, it’s why she doesn’t tell her fucking husband anything either. Because she wants me to chase her. Always chasing her.

“Delilah.”

Knock.

Knock.

“Beautiful Delilah.”

Knock.

Knock.

Her golden locks whip into her face as she abruptly turns and stares right at me. The light from the laser doesn’t give away my position. Her eyesight has always been shit when she gets scared. So have her other senses. She’ll allow that fear to take over and cut everything else off. It’s one of the things I loved about her, now it will be the thing that breaks the beautiful Delilah.

Knock.

Knock.

Her eyes widen as I move the words to her cheek, and she can see the reflection on the glass. A dark laugh works through my chest only to get stuck in my throat as she slaps her hand over her cheek like that will do anything to cover it.

I’m helpful and move the pointer to her other cheek.

Knock.

Knock.

She does the same with her other hand. Like a painting, she stands there with her hands on her face and I feel joy for the first time as I move the words to her forehead.

Knock.

Knock.

I take a step forward out of the shadows and there’s nothing but adrenaline and righteousness flowing through me. The modified balaclava doesn’t allow any part of my face to be seen and the carbon-fiber insert stops it molding to my features. All my beautiful Delilah, koukla mou, will see is what I allow her to.

The top of her head is in view as she drops down and grips the counter with the tips of her fingers, and I take another step. Another inch of her features are unveiled.

She’s playing with me. Always playing with me. It’s a game to her, I’m a game to her, and she wants me closer. Even when she’s supposed to be crazy, she knows the hold she has on me. It’s a shame it’s time to pay for her sins.

Her hair becomes a blur as she takes off running and I walk calmly, closing the ten feet of space between myself and the back deck to her house. The security lights don’t come on since I’ve cut the power to anything she can deem as safety. It would be cruel to allow her to think it would work.

The back portion of the house is made entirely of glass, and she can see me as I take the steps up to the deck. Each footstep is slow, and I catch sight of her as she stumbles into the wall in an attempt to run away. Her mouth opens but no sound leaves as I bring my hand up to hold one finger in front of my lips.

The fear on her face is intoxicating. It hardens my dick, knowing that between those pretty legs of hers, she’ll have the best treat waiting for me.

She freezes and a tremor overtakes her hand as she weakly lifts it to hit the light switch. All it does is surround her in the darkness and I pause on the deck. The only thing between us is the glass, but it doesn’t stop her wide eyes being in view as I slowly make a fist and tap my knuckles against the glass.

Knock.

Knock.

Koukla mou becomes luminescent—she’s that pale—and I tense my body to stop from laughing as she trips over her own feet in her haste to run away. She falls instantly. Her shoulder takes the brunt of the force as she slams into the wall without removing those pretty eyes from me. So, I do it again.

Knock.

Knock.

A pathetic little scream is muted by the glass, and I spread my fingers out as I press my palm to the pane, soaking up every little decibel.

Scream for me.

Only ever me.