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Prologue

HIM

The first time I saw her, I knew I would kill her.

Why did I do it?

Because our relationship didn’t turn out the way I wanted? Because she didn’t please me the way I’d intended?

No. Those were all excuses. I killed her because I wanted to.

In the moment, I called it an accident. But was it really? I’d already kidnapped and beaten her. I could hardly let her go, but I hadn’t planned her end. I didn’t wake that morning and decide the time had come. The truth is, I lost control. Even though I’m alone right now, the heat of embarrassment rushes up the back of my neck. Once the killing started, I couldn’t stop. I became no better than an animal. Worse, even. Because not only did I lose control, I liked it.

I shake my head, trying to banish the memory.

But it seeps through my resolve.

The deafening rush of my pulse in my ears.

The convulsing of her body under my hands. Squeezing. Harder and harder. I hear animallike noises. Her or me?

Maybe both of us.

Grunting. Gasping. Choking.

SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP.

My hands jerk toward my ears, but the sound isn’t external. It’s inside my head.

Despite my initial frenzied reaction, the act itself was euphoric. In fact, I’m left with an adrenaline rush like nothing I’ve ever experienced. I feel alive, which is ironic considering the circumstances. I have no regrets. What bothers me is the fumbling way it came about. In hindsight, I should have savored the moment. The breaking of her will—of her—had just happened. The quiet after had been almost disappointing.

She had been disappointing.

At this moment, I know I will need to do this again. The next time, the act won’t be an impulse. It will be deliberate.

I’m done with her, but the next one—she will be perfect.