by Ally Vance
Before I can respond to her heartfelt and emotional message, another pops up on the screen.
ViBlackthorn1064: I’m sorry, that was so mushy. I probably sound completely desperate and idiotic. V.
ShadowZ952: Don’t apologize, you can tell me anything. Z.
The smallest twinge of guilt bubbles up in my gut, but I burst it before it can take hold of me. This is what I wanted: her to trust me, to open up to me, to tell me her darkest fears and secrets so I can make her mine. It’s manipulative, even cruel, but when I think of her surrendering herself to me, I can’t bring myself to stop. I need her like flowers need light to survive, but I know I will overwhelm and crush this innocent little flower with my shadows in the end.
I’m a monster, and Violet’s my prey. The deadly predator within me rejoices at her easy admissions of affection for an unknown entity. Her naivety will be her undoing, and I have yet to find any remorse inside me for the fact I’ll be the one to tear everything she knows apart.
Chapter Eight
Z
As the weeks pass, my violent desires demand nearly constant satisfaction, and it becomes harder to keep my bloodthirsty demons restrained. The days are warmer, and the flowers in the garden are blossoming with life, their colors so vibrant and diverse it’s like walking into a dream world. I’m a murderer, and this secret garden is my graveyard for the ashes of fallen flowers. I’ve lost count of how many flowers I’ve planted, and the only thing driving me forward is the need to keep them alive within the earth until Violet can join them.
The cops have finally noticed something is amiss, but they’ve no leads and nothing that traces back to me. Kit has all but faded into the background, but the key he gave me to the morgue burns in my pocket like the fires there that consume every scrap of evidence. One of the first times I destroyed the evidence myself, I had him teach me what to do with everything the flames wouldn’t turn to dust. Over the past few weeks, I’ve become so proficient that I could consider a change of career, but I enjoy what I do far too much to quit.
My father left me a legacy of being a gardener like he was. My methods may be far more violent than his, but I can’t deny that I show my garden the same care and devotion he did. Both of us drove Rose mad with our dedication to cultivating life from the smallest of seeds, and as I look around at my beautiful beds of flowers, it makes me wonder if he would be proud of what I’ve done.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, but I ignore it. If I speak to my little flower while I’m trapped in this haze of bloodlust, I’ve no idea what I’d say. I need to shelter her from my demons a little while longer. I’ve pushed her boundaries, and I’ve even asked her to meet, knowing she would decline. Her cautiousness is so appealing, but I know I’m wearing her down, and my silence is just another game I’m playing with her. I’d never tell her just how far down the rabbit hole she has tumbled. Nor how, if she ever surrenders, I’ll drag her down into the darkest depths so she’ll never be free of me.
I can deny it all I want, but I’ve tumbled down there with her. She’s consuming me as much as I want to devour her, and she’s a constant presence in my mind. It’s been months since our first encounter, and I’m spiraling. I’m losing myself in the darkness that’s eclipsing every inch of my life, plunging me into an abyss no light can penetrate, and I can feel myself losing patience the longer I keep myself from taking her. I’m salivating at the thought of finally tasting her, touching her, possessing her. I’d be stunned by the ferocity of my desire for Violet if I wasn’t aware of how much time I’ve spent obsessing over an array of fantasies, all featuring her.
I’ve never wanted to keep a flower as much as I do her...I’ve never wanted to keep them full stop. My own inner conflict when it comes to her is baffling. What is it about Violet that is driving me over the edge of sanity in a way no other flower has ever managed to do?
I’m not becoming soft, and I’m not weakening in the bright light she shines into my life. If anything, my mind has become even more twisted with the destructive urges I’m intent on satisfying. Parallel desires are warring inside me—I want to kill Violet almost as much as I simply want her, and it’s blending into a lethal concoction that could destroy even the most stubborn of weeds.
To calm my frazzled nerves, I decide to put my restlessness to practical use. If I’m to enact my plan, I’ll need a way to secure my little flower in the dark, to make her crave me like I do her. Heading out to my garage, I do a quick inventory for supplies and items I’ll need. I’m pleased to discover leftover wooden panels from when I repaired a damaged fence that blew down in a storm a few years ago. My toolbox holds plenty of nails and a hammer, and with a smile on my face, I haul everything I’ll need upstairs to one of the unused bedrooms on the second floor.
The spare bedroom I’m in hasn’t been used in years, and I cough as my boots kick up small puffs of dust when I walk across the wooden floor to the windows. The wooden panels are light but thick and wide enough for what I require, and I quickly estimate how many I’ll need. There are two large windows, but there should be enough wood for me to cover them entirely. I get to work, and after a couple of hours, I stop and step back to assess my handiwork. The windows are completely obscured by the panels, and not even the faintest sliver of light peeks through the cracks. I approach them and tug at them to check they are secure.
The old fashioned door has a lock, and I have keys for all the bedrooms in a drawer in my room, so I don’t need to make any extra additions to the room to make sure she can’t get out. It’s ready for Violet. I just need to fortify my resolve not to instantly kill her, and it briefly occurs to me that I’m going to an awful lot of trouble for an insignificant and shy, little flower.
However, when I think about her gentle beauty and the effect something as simple as her lavender and honeysuckle scent has on me, I feel more assured that I won’t kill her...at least, not right away. In the end, even the prettiest flowers will bleed, and I can’t wait to see if Violet bleeds as prettily as I imagine she will. Eventually, I’ll paint her skin a brighter crimson than the roses my father planted so long ago.
Chapter Nine
Z
Violet messages me almost constantly now, and she often tells me I know her better than anyone else in her life. She’s shared many intimate and personal secrets about herself and her family, and if her father wasn’t in prison, I’d be sorely tempted to introduce him to Rose.
This little flower of mine has sent my obsession with her into a frenzy. If I was certain I’d be able to remain in control of myself, I’d visit her more often than I do. I’m safest around her after a fresh kill, but I’m wondering how safe she’ll be when she’s finally in my possession, tucked away in her dark little room, a few doors down from where I sleep. The thought is intoxicating, and I’m eager to jump the gun and take her now.
I’ve decided to wait until Violet asks me to meet her. By then she should trust me completely, and even though I’ve only fed her scraps of truth about myself, she’s poured her heart out into our messages. The barest hint of guilt still haunts me like a stubborn weed, but I’m determined to be rid of it. I’ll pull it out before it can destroy all of my carefully laid plans with its toxic presence. There’s no room in my plan for mercy, not when I’ve spent so much time and energy on Violet. She’s going to be mine—now it’s only a matter of when.
Another message from Violet pops up on my screen, and I do a double take when I read the words I’ve been waiting nearly six months to see.
ViBlackthorn1064: I want to meet you. Will you meet me?
My fucking heart stops dead in my chest. I wonder if this is how the other flowers felt when their hearts took their final beat before falling silent and still forever. I’m not going to answer her. Not yet. I need to be sure she’s serious, and I need to make sure everything is ready. My mind is racing at a mile a fucking minute, and I’m mentally running through a list of what supplies I need to get, where I need to meet her, and how I’m going to
take her. She’s bound to fight me at every turn, and while I’m sure time will subdue her fury, I know I’ll never be more than the villain in her life story...because that’s what I am.
I’m her stalker, and I’m a killer. No matter how inherently good she may be, nothing will repair how rotten to the fucking core my soul has become, not even Violet. Violet is a lonely flower, blooming in a garden of shadows and monsters. There’s no way I will ever let her escape from me, not now. I’ve worked too hard, waited too many months for this opportunity, and now it’s time.
I won’t fail.
Violet will be mine.
Chapter Ten
Z
The next day, I drive through town, scouting out the perfect spot for my date with Violet. A plan forms as I realize she doesn’t know what I look like, and even if she did recognize me from the store it’s unlikely she would think I’m her date. A smirk of satisfaction emerges at the thought of just how I’ll do it. I’ll watch from across the street, and when she lets her guard down, distracted with thoughts of me standing her up as she makes her way to her car, I’ll snatch her. It needs to be quick. Perhaps I can suffocate her long enough for her to remain passed out as I drive her car to my home and she disappears without a trace.
There are so many things that could go wrong. Hell, she might not even show. But if she does, I still run the chance that someone could see me take her or that she’ll fight back and get away before I can subdue her. I could even end up killing her in the heat of the moment. Still, if I play this right—if I play it out carefully, I’ll have everything I’ve spent the last six months obsessing over.
Eventually, I spot the perfect place, an out of the way restaurant on the edge of town. The Blue Dragon is within a reasonable walking distance from where I live, but far enough that Violet will have to drive to get there. I can tell from the outdated bright blue sign with its fading dragon logo that they probably don’t get a lot of customers, but they’re still in business so they must get enough orders and reservations to remain open.
Driving home, my hands are shaking with anticipation on the steering wheel, and I feel almost as energized as I do after a fresh kill. I get out of the car and exit the garage. Inhaling deeply, I smell the intoxicatingly sweet aroma of new blooms mixed with the ones I’ve been growing for years. I’m proud of my garden, and as I take in the array of color in the neat beds, I smile to myself at the thought of showing this to Violet. I won’t tell her about the other flowers, but she will be able to see the fruits of my labor with her own eyes, and maybe she will understand her place within my little homegrown haven.
I’m excited at the prospect of what’s to come, but the anticipation awakens a dark urgency. I need everything to go smoothly. This almost aggravating itch to create pain and beauty is one I can’t ignore or avoid. I’ve fallen too far down the rabbit hole to turn back now, and for my own sanity and Violet’s chances of surviving me, at least for a while, I know what tonight will bring. Blood—death—and a scattering of ashes for another unsuspecting flower.
My hands are shaking as I pull out my phone and send Kit a quick text so he’ll know to expect me. I can’t keep sneaking into his place, even though he gave me a key and told me I'm welcome to use his place any time. It’s been a while since I saw him, so it’ll be good to catch up.
His own tastes might be darker and even more forbidden than my own, but he still appreciates my work and the fact he gets to reap the benefits from what I sow. Tonight I’m going to celebrate, and who better to witness the carnage than the man obsessed with the dead? Besides, while my physical interests are entirely focused on Violet, who am I to deny my closest friend his fun?
I leave the house just as twilight hits, and I pause for a moment to admire my creation under the setting sun and watch how the colors start to fade with the light. Getting in my truck, I pull out my phone and swipe through the unread messages on the app, searching for one that stands out. The name stops me first: Fleur, and then, when I see the picture of a soft looking young woman with a brief but boring description—which I skim read—I know I’ve found my next target. Tapping out a reply, I hit send and wait.
Barely a few minutes have passed when my phone dings with Fleur’s excited response along with her address. Smiling, I tell her I’ll be there soon and begin the drive to the next town, all the while trying to keep myself from diverting to go and find a much more enticing flower.
It takes me longer than I expect to arrive at Fleur’s. Some idiot had caused a traffic accident, creating a huge delay and a backlog of traffic. It’s dark by the time I pull up outside the small, rundown apartment block that looks more like a crack den than a place where people actually live. Maybe I’ll be doing her a favor with what I have planned. I’m hardly dressed up for a ‘date’, but with the short notice and the true intent behind my reaching out to her, it hardly matters.
I kill the engine and send her a message to let her know I’m here. There are a few people on the street, but with the steady passage of time and blackening sky, it’s the perfect moment for monsters to come out and play...I happen to be one of them. A few minutes tick by and eventually Fleur appears, wearing a nervous smile and a floral sundress. I can barely hold back a smirk as I take in the soon to be dead flower covered in flowers. She’ll be wearing them forever soon enough.
Switching the engine back on, I press a button to lower the window and call out to her, getting her attention. “Fleur. I’m over here. It’s Z.”
She quickly darts across the street and hops in my truck, putting on her seatbelt before turning to me.
“Where are we going?” she asks, and I smile at her.
“I thought we could go on a nighttime nature walk, then maybe we can get a few drinks and I’ll take you home.” I’m sweet talking her now, but if I’m going to keep up the ruse that I’m interested in her and keep Fleur’s guard down, then I need to play the role she expects.
Fleur fills the entire journey with chatter, and I’m already bored of listening to her. I'd rather be listening to Violet's soft, sweet voice and seeing what other sounds I could get her to make...but she's not here, and the woman beside me now is the key to Violet’s safety.
I make sure to nod and mutter sounds of interest and acknowledgement while white-knuckling the steering wheel, trying to keep from pulling over and throttling her, right then and there. I don’t want to be far from where I need to take Fleur after I’ve finished with her, considering how late it’s getting and I have Kit on standby, waiting for our arrival.
Finally, spotting somewhere to pull over, I stop the truck and switch off the engine. I’m tired of her rambling on about bullshit that wouldn’t even interest a cat, and I can’t take much more of her presence. The only sound a flower should make is a whisper in a light breeze. It’s time to silence her forever.
“Why have we stopped?” Fleur asks, looking around with a frown, presumably searching for a trail of some sort.
“Because I can’t keep myself from doing this any longer,” I tell her honestly, knowing the double entendre will go unnoticed.
Unbuckling my seatbelt, I lean toward her, and as I do so, I catch a whiff of fleur-de-lis on her skin. I’m smiling now, knowing exactly what I’m going to grow in her resting place in the garden. She inclines her head toward me, no doubt thinking I’m going to kiss her, and I pull out the garden twine I put in my pocket and wrap it around her throat before she can even gasp in surprise.
My strength and her seatbelt hold her captive as she struggles to get free. The sound of Fleur choking fills the cabin of my truck, and I grit my teeth, pulling tighter. I’m able to easily ignore her hands scrabbling feebly at my arms, trying to tug them off her—the heavy jacket I’m wearing protects my skin from her nails. After a few minutes she falls limp, and her head lolls forward against my arm, but I don’t loosen my grip or the twine around her throat until I’m certain she’s dead.
Relief at the renewed silence of my truck mixes with the twisted g
lee that only killing can give me, spreading through my body quicker than deadly nightshade. I slump back in my seat for a moment, catching my breath while I wait for the dizzying euphoria to fade.
Carefully, I leap out of my truck and walk around to the passenger side. I unbuckle Fleur’s seatbelt and her body slumps forward, hitting the dash with a soft thump. Without delay, I lift her out of the truck and carry her to the bed at the rear, securing her beneath the tarp before I get back in and start driving again. It’s not far to Kit’s, and as always, he’s standing outside with a cigarette between his lips and signature expression fixed firmly on his face when I arrive.
I grab a flashlight from the glove compartment and get out to meet him as he starts to walk over to me. Peeling back the cover, I flick the flashlight on a low setting and shine it on Fleur’s face. Kit’s dark eyes seem to turn black, but it may be a trick of the light and the shadows dancing across us.
“How did you do it?” he asks, brushing his fingers across her blue lips when I shine the beam on her face.
“Garden twine,” I answer with a shrug, and he makes a noncommittal noise. He doesn’t usually ask, and he doesn’t look at me when he speaks, too enamored with the dead flower in front of us.
“This was recent,” he observes. “She’s still warm.”
Kit’s tone is low, almost seductive, and I have a feeling that if we don’t hurry up and get her inside, I’ll bear witness to something I’d rather not see.
“Come on, let’s move her.”
After helping him carry Fleur into the building, I hastily exit and shut the door behind me, giving him privacy.
Epilogue