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Chapter Three

Ren

M y hands tighten around the steering wheel as I watch him step into the building. It’s been weeks since we have been face to face, , but little does he know, I’ve been watching–always watching. I’m planning our reunion while he continues to pretend to pick up the pieces, but I see the real him. I see the mask…. And the brokenness behind it and he looks just as mesmerizing—if not more. To have survived me… I chuckle, true to his fucking name–a thorn in my ass.

If only he knew the danger that lurks while he lives out his pitiful life thinking he’s moved on… healed. I guess it’s time to help him remember, to sprinkle… no, pour salt on that wound, and make it clear that there’s no life for him outside of me.

Nothing.

“I hope you’ve missed me,” I mutter, watching the man who has been hanging around Byron walk into the building where he holds his group therapies—for men who are coming out or are sexual abuse survivors. It’s become my favorite pastime, watching him. Causing the small noise in the background of his life, just enough to make him uneasy. To make him feel my presence. But watching is no longer cutting it. I ache to create, and nothing seems to inspire me as much as he has. But soon, we will both have our reunion.

It’s kinda admirable how my Thorn has really tried to continue on with his life, thinking I was just a bump in the road, an obstacle he crossed over. But what he doesn’t know is that this free time is borrowed—he’s been on borrowed time from the moment we met. But soon, he will realize it .

Both he and Gabriela think they’ve won. That they’ve outsmarted me. That they’ll just take my money and run off to Montana.

But our story isn’t done yet. Happy endings don’t exist for monsters. And I, for one, intend to finish what I started.

I tap my finger on the steering wheel while listening to Karma Police by Radiohead. As much as I want to go inside, to watch what he’s up to, to hear his testimony and the lies he feeds everyone in there... I can’t. I need to be out here. Watching. Waiting.

Today is the day of reckoning.

While I healed, Kevin kept tabs on them. Of course, I had to slowly feed him cash—and I still do—at least until he proves to be no longer useful. But for now, he’s been quite resourceful. I guess I wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for his ambitions. Like Byron, he’s also on borrowed time. But unlike my Thorn, he’s completely disposable.

I wait outside the building for almost an hour. I know he’s almost done. My heart rate begins to spike, causing my hand to grow sweaty. The anticipation has me going crazy. I want to go inside, sit through a session. Listen.

Hear him babble on about our encounter. Like I have plenty of times while infiltrating myself into his life all while he remains oblivious to the small void sucking up his light. I won’t lie and say that it doesn’t make me feel this weird sensation when I hear him talk about me as if he’s grateful for everything I put his body through. Proud to have survived a serial killer. But it does… I also know that it’s all a facade. A mask to hide his truth but I see it.

Because I’m good at reading people and Byron I can read like a book. So much that I think it’s more than that.

I’m buried in his mind. His body. His soul.

And soon… his ass.

I palm my cock, which jolts in the fabric of my pants. Eager to be inside him, eager to feel something more than my hand wrapped around it. Taking a deep breath in, I take a quick glance at the clock on the dashboard and smile .

A few more minutes pass before he steps out the building, phone in hand, talking with a smile plastered on his face. Shifting the SUV into gear I pull up, but he’s too consumed by his conversation to notice he’s walking right into the start, or maybe the ending, of our story. He might have survived me last time, but let’s see if he can a second time because I won’t make the same mistakes again. This time I’m not just going to show him the void–it will consume him until he’s begging for just a small sliver of light… of hope, and I’ll be the only one to give it. The only one to offer him that sweet relief. I will snuff out the fire only to rekindle it again… and again, until he’s begging me to end it all. And then, maybe then, I will. But first, he must break…

Securing my mask in place, I watch as he slides into the SUV completely unaware of the chemicals infused in the AC.The door closes, and I’m sure by now that his cell service has shut down, thanks to my service blocker. I can see his hand move to the door handle, but that won’t help him. My little bird is trapped in his cage, and I’m the only one with the keys. I watch as his phone slips from his hand, and his breathing slows, chest rising shallowly and unsteady. His body goes slack, head rolling back against the seat just as a faint wheeze leaves his lips.

Fuck .

The sight makes my fingers tighten around the wheel, heat pooling low in my stomach. I roll down the divider window, facing him just as the drugs flood his system. “Ren.”

My name falls from his lips like a revelation, voice hazy, barely above a whisper. His eyelids flutter, and I watch, mesmerized, as his body succumbs.

“Good boy,” I mutter, rolling the divider window back up as I move to face the front and put the SUV into motion to drive us to our little piece of hell.

I will show him what life has been like for me. There will be no mercy and no special treatment. He’s mine, and since I can’t do what I enjoy most, then he will become my everything. My puppet, my project, my canvas—whatever the fuck you want to call it–just mine. He will learn, even if I have to program him like I was. He will learn to live, to breathe only for me. There won’t be room for him to think about anything but Ren.

REN.

REN.

REN fucking REN.