Stalker

by Clarissa Wild

  “What the fuck …” he mutters. “You’ve got to be fucking with me now, Nix. Tell me you aren’t going to fucking kill yourself.”

  “I’m not. But she probably will.”

  He makes a face, as if he doesn’t understand. Maybe I should explain it better. “If the cops don’t kill me, she’ll probably end my life personally after the physical, emotional, and torturous hell that I put her through.” A cocky smile appears on my face. “And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  ***

  Two days later

  It’s a long drive, but I finally made it to L.A. This is where she’s been living for quite some time now; home of the famous, hell for the poor. This city is fakery itself with its huge fancy houses, bought with corrupt money. I spit on this place. I don’t get why she wants to live here. Long ago, she would have laughed at the ridiculousness of it. Now, she’s as much a part of the sick culture she once despised.

  She’s stooped low … so low, that I’m going to teach her a lesson she won’t soon forget.

  She thought she could get away with putting me in jail. Now I’ll be the one to forge a prison for her. A fucked-up, sinful prison for a fucked-up, sinful girl.

  I ditch the car somewhere along the road, grab my bag, and brace myself for what’s coming. I’m going to find her, and I’m going to hurt her so bad that she’ll beg me to kill her.

  It’s just past eight, and the sun’s already set; the perfect time to fuck some shit up.

  When I reach the fence to her house, there’s only one guard patrolling the area. It’s not a lot of trouble to subdue him. A quick hit on the back of the neck does the trick, and when he hits the asphalt face-first, he’s out cold.

  Then I grab his head and twist, breaking his neck.

  One less life on this planet.

  If he didn’t want to die, he shouldn’t have been guarding her in the first place. Tough luck.

  I jump up the fence, clinging to the bars as I lift myself over the edge. Jumping down, I immediately open the fence from the inside and drag the body inside, making sure nobody saw me. I stuff his body in a bush far from the fence so no one will see it. Then I hide in a corner near the house and take the binoculars from my bag. It’s been a long time since I last peeked through her window, but the moment I spot her, I realize that she’s still as beautiful as ever. What a waste to put such a pretty face on such a nasty human being.

  Makes me want to cut that smile right off her.

  Lucky for her, there’s no smiling going on tonight. It seems she and that new man of hers, Arthur, are fighting. She’s making rude gestures and he’s leaning forward while shouting. She picks up a vase and throws it on the floor, while he is hurling his papers at her. Wow, I might as well sit this one out because I don’t want to miss this show.

  No wonder she picked him as her next guy. He’s a carbon copy of his brother, Phillip. Both annoying assholes. It’s so fucking ironic; men serve as a mirror to her … showing her exactly what she deserves.

  And she definitely deserves what I have in store for her.

  After what she did to me—putting me in jail for something she did—she deserves no less. She thinks nobody knows her secrets, but I know, and I’ll expose her for the villain she is. Bad deeds never go unpunished—I’ll make sure of that. And if I go down while doing it, so be it. It’s fucking worth it to see her burn.

  In fact, I think I’d love to watch both of them burn.

  Arthur is just as much of a despicable bastard as she is; she just doesn’t know it yet. One more thing to add to her list of things-she’s-oblivious-to. Or rather … things she refuses to acknowledge. She views the world through a rose-colored lens in order to stay sane, but I’ll break that motherfucker to pieces and force her to witness the destruction she’s caused.

  Death isn’t coming for her… it’s already here.

  ***

  VANESSA

  Tears roll down my cheeks as I pick up the broken pieces of the vase. It’s such a shame that it has to go. Arthur pushed my buttons so far that I couldn’t control myself anymore. I rarely get like that, but sometimes a girl just has to scream and throw things to make a point. We’ve all been there … and I’m not ashamed. I am sad that it had to come to this, though. I remember I was happy, once, and it wasn’t that long ago. Oh, how things can change in four meager years. I thought Arthur was my knight in shining armor … turns out that was just a stupid dream. I can’t believe he’s become such an ignorant bastard. And worse, he wants to keep tabs on me, more and more. He doesn’t even allow me access to my own money, probably fearing I’ll spend it on something stupid. That’s really like him to think that I wouldn’t know how to handle money. I know how to handle things better than most people, and with things, I mean everything. They just don’t see it, but I do. I know my own capacity, but I disguise it with an aloofness that throws people off.

  Too bad Arthur can’t see through it.

  “You’re just like your brother,” I say, wiping my cheeks.

  “No, don’t you dare compare me to him,” he growls. “I am not my brother.”

  “But you act like him,” I say, looking up at him.

  “I’m trying to do what’s best for us. For you.”

  “You’re controlling me,” I say, frowning. “That’s not good for me. That’s only good for you.”

  He grinds his teeth. “I’m trying to make sure things go the way they’re supposed to go. It’s in your best interest. Why can’t you see that?”

  It’s not that I can’t. It’s that I won’t because I hate the ‘best interest’ part. I’ve heard it so many times before, and it was never true.

  “Stop. Just stop,” I say.

  “Sometimes I can’t stand you,” he grunts. “You seriously make me wish I never kissed you in the first place.”

  I make a face. “Well, if you think about us that way, why not just end it all now? Save yourself the trouble.”

  “Shut up!” he yells. “You have no freaking clue how it’s been for me these past few years.”

  “Like I give a shit!” I yell. “I have my own problems to deal with.”

  “Fine. I’ll make it easy then. It’s over,” he growls, and then he turns around. “I’m outta here.”

  He marches outside, slamming the doors. I try not to pay attention to his raging outbursts, but sometimes he just hurts me so bad that I can’t not respond. I feel like he’s started to hate me … and I don’t know what I did to deserve that. At least, not from him. However, now is not the time to stop him. We both need time to cool off.

  But then, after ten minutes, the door creaks again, and I wonder why. “Arthur?” I call out.

  No response.

  Frowning, I walk toward the door and notice it’s been left open. Outside are red drops scattered across the floor. I lean forward, so I can scour the premise, and that’s when I notice the pool of blood lying on the porch.

  My eyes widen and I scream.

  Stumbling backward inside the house, I slam the door shut with shaky hands.

  That blood, is it Arthur’s? What’s going on? Is he here?

  Shit, I knew it.

  I immediately reach for my umbrella stand and fish out the rifle hidden behind all the umbrellas. I should’ve prepared more for this day, but I didn’t think it would arrive so soon. I lock and load the rifle, turning around quickly to surprise my attacker.

  “Show yourself, you motherfucker,” I scream. “I know it’s you.”

  “Hello, Vanessa ….” His voice brings me chills to the bone. “Long time, no see.”

  “Get the fuck out of my house!” I yell, turning circles.

  The voice is coming from everywhere, and I don’t know where he is. If I move, I’m afraid he’ll catch me.

  All I hear is vicious, uncontrollable laughter. “Did you miss me? No need to be angry, I’m here now.”

  “What do you want?” I scream.

  “Oh … you know exactly what I want.” The grim harsh
ness in his voice makes me tremble. “I told you that I’d come for you. Ready or not, here I come, Princess.”

  “No! Stay away!” I scream, turning to the hallway. I could swear his voice came from there.

  But there’s nothing to be seen.

  Nothing except the filthy boot prints on the wooden floor behind me, leading into the hallway to the right.

  I follow the trail into my living room, holding out my gun, ready to shoot if I must.

  But then the trail suddenly ends.

  My lips part in confusion as I wonder where in the hell the dirt has gone. I can’t find the boots anywhere. And then I realize what’s going on.

  Too late.

  Something is pulled over my head, pulling me into the dark. A bag.

  His hands twist and twist until I choke. The gun drops to the floor. He’s suffocating me, and no matter how much I claw at the bag, it won’t break.

  The last thing I hear before I pass out is, “Playtime is over. You can’t hide, Princess. Now you’re mine.”

  CHAPTER 6

  PHOENIX

  Present

  Finally, she’s mine for the taking.

  I have her in my clutches, and I’m not about to let go, even though she keeps on struggling.

  “Still fighting me, aren’t we?” I whisper into her ear. “Don’t worry, I love being rough with girls, and especially you. So keep on fighting, Princess … it only gives me what I want.”

  I twist the bag tighter around her neck, causing her to choke on her own breath.

  “You don’t want to know how long I’ve been waiting for this moment …” I take a deep breath as loud as I can so she’ll hear me sniff her scent. “Oh¸ I can’t wait to get started.”

  I don’t need to see her eyes to know she can hear me through the bag. But she and I both know she isn’t going to escape my grasp. Not this time. Not ever again.

  With one hand, I unbuckle my belt, holding onto the bag around her head with the other as I pull the belt through the loops. Then I tie it around her neck until I hear her gurgle. I love that noise, how desperate it sounds. Like she’s clinging on to life. Fuck, so good, so powerful. It gives me a fucking hard-on just to hear her life drain away.

  But I won’t let her die so soon. Fuck, no. I caught my prey, and now I want to play with it.

  When I grab the belt with both hands, she suddenly starts running forward out of nowhere. I don’t know where she gets the sudden energy but, fuck, I like her tenacity. Too bad for her, she isn’t going anywhere.

  I grab the belt and she falls backward on the floor from the pull, a screech emanating from her mouth.

  “You think you can run from me? Not a chance, Princess,” I say. “You’re mine!”

  I drag her across the floor, holding the belt tight as she’s scratching it with her claws, trying to get away from my grasp. I can hear her choking from here, and the more I hear it, the more I get the urge to strangle her with my bare hands. I want to watch her suffer while she looks me in the eyes, knowing it was me all along. Me. I know her. I know everything there is to know about her and what she did. She thought she could keep things secret, keep me away from her life, and it would save her. It was just a fantasy, which I’m about to snuff out.

  Just like I will snuff out her life.

  Hauling her body up the stairs proves to be a bit of trouble after having her head-butt the staircase, so I decide to pick her up and carry her myself. “Don’t think this is going to be some regular thing, Princess. You’ve been carried enough in your life.”

  “No!” she manages to scream.

  “You don’t think so? Oh, tell me why you’re living in this big house then because you didn’t fucking earn any of it, now did you? Your two lovers have been generously spoiling you, but I won’t be that nice. Oh, no.” I laugh a little from my own statement because it’s too ridiculous to believe. As if I’d ever be nice to the likes of her.

  “Let me go!” she squeals, her voice distorted by all the coughs.

  “How about … no?” I chuckle and go up to the attic, where I put her on the floor. The place is musky, lacks sunlight, and seems soundproof. There are plenty of furniture pieces in the back, and one small light hanging from the ceiling. Good enough for me.

  Vanessa groans a little, feeling her way along the wooden floor. I watch her with glee as I tap the door, making it close slowly behind us as she crawls near me. When she touches my boots, I smirk.

  “Yes, that’s me, Princess.”

  She freezes, still holding my boot, but then suddenly her hands come up to rip at the belt around her neck, so I grab the leash and pull back causing her to fall on her face again.

  “Uh-uh. Don’t you fucking dare touch that.”

  “Stop …” she gurgles.

  I go to my knees, placing my hand on my ear while I pull her closer with the belt. “What’s that? I can’t hear you.”

  “Let. Me. Go,” she says, still coughing and choking. “You piece of shit.”

  I raise my eyebrows. “Me? I’m the piece of shit?”

  “Take this off,” she says, her pitch getting higher every second. “How dare you?”

  I laugh, unsure why the fuck she’s still under the impression she doesn’t deserve this. “How dare I? How dare I? How about ‘how dare you!’?” I rise and pick her up just by lifting the belt, causing her to stand while she claws at her throat, desperate to breathe. “You think you can talk to me like that after what you did? Fuck you. I decide what happens to you now. Your life is in my hands, in case you didn’t notice.”

  “Can’t. Breathe.” Each word comes in short gasps as she struggles for air.

  “You wanna breathe? You think you deserve that after the shit you pulled? You think you fucking deserve to live another day?” I shake my head and spit right in her face. Lucky for her the bag is in the way, or she would’ve tasted my saliva. “Disgusting,” I mutter, looking at her.

  Her body isn’t disgusting. On the contrary, she’s still as pretty as ever. Voluptuous, thin, Barbie-like figure—perfect for fucking. Her choices, however, now they’re repulsive.

  She makes choking sounds as I tighten the grip on the belt. “Look at you. Pathetic,” I say.

  I grab her arm and pull her with me toward the middle of the attic, where I fetch a chair and shove her down. “Sit and stay put or else …”

  “Are you going to hurt me?” she mumbles.

  I smile to myself. “Do you want an honest answer to that question or a lie? Your choice.”

  She keeps her mouth shut, so I’m guessing it’s the latter. She’s always been like that, ignoring the truth that’s right in front of her. Well, I’ll make it so she can’t deny it anymore.

  “Well, I can tell you one thing. You won’t be getting out of this house anytime soon.” I fish in my pocket and take out my Swiss Army knife. “Hold still.”

  I pinch a bit of the bag together and cut into it, slicing a hole into it. I put one finger between the belt and her neck, causing her to suck in a breath, which immediately turns into a cough.

  “There. Look how nice I am,” I muse. When she tries to respond, I place a finger on her lips. “Shhh. Don’t waste your breath, which you need so much.”

  Her chest rises and sinks with each rapid breath; she sucks them in, as one would sniff coke. I look down at her ample tits and wonder if they’re still as succulent as they used to be. Fuck. Why do I even think about these things? I should be fucking her up right now, but instead, I’m thinking of fucking her. There’s a clear difference, which I can’t seem to separate. Although … it would be a great idea to fuck her up while fucking her. That would definitely be a win-win situation.

  A devious smile appears on my face as I unbuckle the belt from around her neck and pull it off. She immediately reaches for the bag, but I grab her wrists and twist them, causing her to cry out in pain. “Don’t touch that. Stay still or I will hurt you.”

  I push the knife into her skin close to her neck. Little drop
lets of blood flow from her veins, and I relish in the color. Goddamn, it makes me want to lick the color off her skin. She hisses from the pain, only making me more excited.

  “Feel that?” I say. “It still recognizes your flesh from long ago … it can’t wait to sink itself into you again. Unless you behave, of course, because my knife only likes naughty girls.”

  I grin as she whimpers. I put her arms behind the chair and tie them with the belt.

  “Don’t fucking move,” I say. “Or your life will end much sooner than you would like it to.”

  “Let me go …” she murmurs through the bag. “It’s really you, isn’t it?”

  I frown. “Of course, it’s me. Who else would it be?” I pull the belt extra hard, so I can hear that lovely whimper one more time. “Or do you mean to say you’ve made plenty of enemies that cause you to doubt my identity?” I walk to her front and lean in to look at her, even though I can only see her lips. Just the way they shudder gets me all riled up. “Because that I can definitely believe.”

  “Fuck you …” she mutters.

  I grab the bag and pull it tight, gagging her again. “Say that again one more time. I dare you.”

  She slams her mouth shut, almost biting on it. On purpose, I think. Maybe she’s trying to shut herself up. Good. It’s about fucking time.

  “That’s what I thought,” I say, releasing her again.

  I walk around the room; looking at all the props that are here, I think of the ways I can use them to torture her. I want her to the point of begging for death, and then I still won’t give it to her, because that’s the least she deserves.

  “Why are you here?” she whispers after a while.

  I stop in my tracks and listen to the sound of her breathing. It’s calming to hear the hitches and hastiness of it, as if she knows these might be her final breaths. She’s savoring them, and I’m savoring this moment. This is my drug, my source of energy. I’ve lived for this all these years—to have her in my claws, vulnerable, unable to defend herself against what’s coming.