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According to the Oxford Dictionary, I fell into that category. 1. A person who harasses or persecutes someone with unwanted and obsessive attention. 2. A person who hunts game stealthily.
Well, in truth, I’d been a stalker my entire life, turned into one at a young age. I’d accepted that portion of my past, although it had been a hell of a long time since I’d been on a hunt. What I hadn’t considered was my behavior in two short days riding that fine line.
I wasn’t in the habit of stalking, including beautiful women. I was far too busy, but I’d found myself gravitating toward the stunning girl over the past two days, watching her.
I’d learned everything I’d been able to find about her life and where she grew up, which was far removed from the big city.
With the connections I had, I’d easily gathered a picture of her world, including that her parents had very little money, barely making ends meet on some ranch they owned in Montana. God’s country. I had to wonder how my girl had ended up with a penchant for all things dark.
She’d excelled in high school, which had allowed her to receive a very nice scholarship, although not enough for her to live on during the four years. That’s why she’d worked at the diner and a couple other places since her arrival. From what I could tell, she was a typical girl from a decent family who’d learned Middle American values and morals.
Wasn’t I a bad man? I was planning on destroying everything she knew about right from wrong. Good from evil.
And I was definitely going to rid her of her inhibitions, allowing her the freedom to explore sadistic avenues with me as her teacher.
The thought was filthy and sinful, providing more than a couple of smiles. There was something about her I couldn’t quite put my finger on. It was as if she was teetering on the edge of the darkness yet fearful of falling into the abyss. Or as if she had more experience with disturbing situations or perhaps bad men. While there were some aspects of her past and her family that had seemed nonexistent, including her aunts, uncles, and cousins, I suspected her mother had been estranged from her family at an early age. That was based on the fact she’d left home at seventeen, the day after she’d graduated, leaving Washington State and never looking back. Hmmm… Maybe there was more to it than that.
Still, what I’d learned about people was that everyone had a dark little secret hiding in their closet. There were almost no exceptions. I would find hers in a way that would leave her exposed and even more vulnerable.
And absolutely perfect.
I was turning into another version of my brothers.
I’d refrained from looking in her windows at her dorm, although I’d easily broken into her private room since so many of the kids had already moved out. I’d enjoyed touching her things, including her clothes that she kept either hung neatly in her closet or in her tiny dresser. She was already boxing up what little she had, which wasn’t much in comparison to so many of the girls.
My joy and satisfaction in invading her space had been in reading her various neon-colored Post-it notes placed on her whiteboard, reading the additional stories she’d penned, several even handwritten. The quotes she’d posted were some of my favorites from Poe and others, including Stephen King. And given one of my attributes was that I was a trained hacker, I’d easily maneuvered into her laptop, finding the book she was currently writing. If I’d thought she was talented before, what she’d written might have established alarm bells in the minds of her friends or family.
For me, her darkness and methods of killing her victims in her books was a beacon so strong that I’d almost been caught, forced to hide in her closet until she’d gone back out a few minutes later. I wondered if she knew I’d enjoyed learning about her, indulging in her darkness as I’d allowed her to partake in mine over the last few months in class.
But I’d paid attention to her comings and goings, which was how I’d ended up at the diner, ensuring that she got the flowers. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust Misty, but florist companies had made mistakes in the past.
I’d had no intention of going inside, but I’d sensed the behavior of the three assholes was about to get out of hand. The way Sara had stood up to me even after I’d protected her certainly told me a lot about her resolve.
How had I gone from lusting after her to determining that she was mine to use, to discipline, and to protect? Still, the asshole leader of the motley crew would get what he deserved.
Seeing what made her tick after reading her story had also become important. It would help shape how our work relationship would go.
And how far I could pull her into my dark depravity.
Seeing the jerks from the comfort of my car, including one of them pushing her, I’d almost lost it. I’d come this close to breaking the alpha dude’s neck and now wished I had. The situation would have been messy but in my mind worth it.
However, my sudden act of decency in allowing him to live hadn’t prevented me from following them, even waiting until after they’d chowed down on food at another restaurant. That had been after the three thugs had cased the cars in the parking lot, perhaps realizing the two employees left parked in the back. The jerk was planning something else, a moment of retaliation for whatever my sweet, innocent employee had said to him.
That simply wasn’t going to happen. Not when I was living and breathing anyway.
My instincts had been spot on before.
At least the one guy deserved a date with destiny.
My unusually long patience level had also allowed me to see the young man who’d accosted Sara had also done the same kind of thing to a young waitress who’d allowed them to order. Meanwhile, the bastard of a manager had done nothing to kick them out or help his employee.
I’d almost taken him out the back door, finishing what I’d started. Instead, I’d waited until they’d left, each one going in separate directions. Then I’d followed the jerk as he drove to a park, one known to be used by drug dealers.
It would seem the prick was a wealthy kid with no plans for his future. I knew the type far too well, including by the vehicle with thirty-day tags he was driving. The Mercedes Maybach S 580 went for somewhere in the neighborhood of two hundred and forty thousand. I should know since I owned one.
I was even more disgusted when I watched from the shadows as he purchased whatever party favor he wanted to end the night on, taking his time strolling back to his car as if no one could touch him. I wasn’t certain what had incensed me the most at this point.
So I followed. I wasn’t the kind of man to stay in the shadows. Why bother? I was going to be the last person he saw before dying. While I also wanted to take the time to carve him up, given the conversation I’d had with my two brothers earlier in the day, I had to be cautious, even curtailing my habit.
