Page 6 of Scar

Luckily, I only have two paper bags of groceries. Having no budget does have one positive, there isn't a lot to carry. That works out in my favor since the store is a mile from home. Luckily, the bus stop is right outside of the store, so I just have to grab the bus and walk a few hundred yards from the stop to my apartment. That's doable.

The bus is pulling away from the curb when I walk outside, making me attempt to sprint to catch it. Today must not be my lucky day. The bottom of my bag rips open as I'm trying to run. Cabbage and all my produce falls all over the parking lot. Thank goodness it's all individually wrapped. Otherwise, I would have just lost my most important staple foods for the month. I sigh, sitting my other bag on the pavement as I crawl around like an idiot picking up cabbage, peppers, and onions that rolled away from me, stuffing it all into the one functional bag that I have left. I'm so embarrassed that people are staring at me. I can feel their eyes practically burning holes in me while I scramble around like an idiot.

A large hand is holding the bag of spinach that I had dropped, I take it from the hand, tossing it into the functional bag with a huff. I am so over this day. I just want to go home. But now it's going to be another thirty minutes before the next bus, so I'm walking home. Awesome. I know it's only a mile, but I was not built for walking long distances. I get winded walking across campus sometimes. It's not fair.

They say if you're skinny, you're in shape. I am most definitely not in shape.

Istandup, brushing the loose gravel off of my knees before making eye contact with the man who had handed me my spinach. It's the same guy from my awkward apple cider fiasco. This day just keeps getting better. "Thanks." I say quietly. The man simply shrugs, picking up my now overly packed bag and holding it in his arm. "No problem. Now I can sneak this other gallon of apple cider in your car." He says with a charming laugh. Jeeze, he is cute, and I'm just staring at him like an idiot. Stop it, Maeve. "Lucky me, I don't have a car, and with how likely this bag is to rip open on the walk home, it's probably better if I pass on any more heavy items." I say as casually as I can muster.

The man stops, staring at me for a moment. "You walked here? Fine, I'll walk you back. How far do you live from here?" He asks. I don't know much about stranger danger, but I do know I'm not supposed to tell the super cute man where I live. Seems like a good way to be on a missing persons show. And as cute as he is, I rather like having my head attached to my body. "Oh, no, thank you. But I appreciate the offer!" I say sweetly. I do, really. Nobody has ever offered to walk me home before. Nobody has ever offered to just give me a gallon of the best apple cider in the state before. But I have to be responsible.

The man slightly sighs, probably realizing how that came off. Most men are blind to how women are afraid of them, but he seems remorseful for doing anything to scare me. "I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking. Can I make a counter offer?" He asks. I raise an eyebrow at this man. Are we negotiating? It's not exactly like I can say no. He still has my grocery bag hugged to his chest and for some reason I'm still following him.

"You can try." I say with a shrug. I don't know why I'm talking to this man so much. We're just standing here in the middle of the parking lot of a now closed grocery store. I need to go home. "Walk with me back to my car, I promise not to kidnap you. You can stay several car lengths away. But I have some reusable bags in my car, so your stuff won't fall out." He offers. Actually, that sounds nice. He seems nice. Maybe I'm just being an butthead by being so cautious? Crap, no. I've always heard the nice ones are the ones to worry about.

So, I take this man up on his offer. I walk several feet away from him while he walks towards what is obviously the most expensive car in the entire parking lot. I don't even know why I'm surprised. Based on his outfits and his watch, he has money. A lot of it. So I don't know why I'm so shocked to see him with such a nice car, but I am.

He pulls out two very nice canvas reusable bags and starts to load my things into them for me, making casual talk while he does so. But I just keep being a pervert and watching him. The way his thick forearms flex when he grabs something, the way his hair slightly falls out of its perfectly groomed style when he bends over, the smile he makes when he talks.

He should be made into a statue in a museum somewhere. "Where do you work? SoI cangive these back when I'm done?" I ask him as he hands me the two clearly expensive canvas bags, hanging them over my shoulders for me. They feel heavier. Maybe it's because of the thick straps on my shoulders taking the weight rather than my arms wrapped around paper bags. But I'm not about to complain about him letting me borrow these. "Nonsense. I have far too many of them anyway. Every time I come to the store, I end up buying more because I don't want to leave my place in line to grab mine out of the car. It's a never-ending cycle of reusable bags. Keep them, I insist." He says sweetly. I can't say no to that, I kind of don't want to anyway.

Before I walk away from this guy, I turn around and offer him a smile. "Maeve." Isayto him, He raises an eyebrow at me, clearly lost. "My name is Maeve." Isaytohim, The guy gives a shortnod while a smile breaks out across his handsome face. "Leon," he replies to me. I give him the same quick nod and a warm smile. "Until we meet again, Leon." I say as I stroll down the sidewalk towards home.

"I'll be waiting, Maeve." Leon shouts at me before I am out of earshot.

Chapter 7

Leon's POV

I should not have talked to her.

I should have walked,no ran, the other way when I saw her standing in front of the apple cider. She's far too beautiful and far too pure for my world. For me.

But now I don't know if I'll be able to leave her alone. She smells like blueberries and everything good in the world, and she's somehow even more beautiful up close.

Fuck! I fucked this up. But when I saw her in the parking lot, picking up her scattered groceries, I had to step in. Right? I'm telling myself I was just being a good guy, but I don't know if I am a good guy. It's ironic that this debate popped up while driving home from the store that I only bought bleach and apple cider at. I don't even like apple cider! I snuck both gallons of that shit in the bags I insisted she go home with. Speaking of, those were my nicest bags...

Sam Fredrick ended up dying after about four hours or torture. After he vomited far too many times, I took "pity" on him and suffocated him just how he did to Denise. It felt good, Denise deserved that justice. But now my entire room in the basement smells like vomit, piss, blood, cheap beer, and cats. I already handled Sam's body. I melted the meat off his bones with acid, then ground up the bones to use as fertilizer.

I read that ground up animal bones were perfect for flower beds. I don't have any flowers, but I do have an area in my shed with soil, flower seeds, and a shovel. Basically, everything I would need to answer why I have ground up animal bones in my shed. But I've been doing this since I was eighteen, and I've never raised suspicions, so I think I may just be paranoid. I'd rather be paranoid than caught, though.

As I'm scrubbing my special room in the basement down, my mind keeps wandering back to Maeve. What a beautiful name for such a stunning creature. Today, she had that long, honey hair in another braid. She had on what looked like a one piece outfit, a sage green colored pair of shorts and tank top combo. It had some sort of paisley design on it. She had a canvas cross body bag, the same gorgeous suede boots as the last time I saw her, and a thin white lace looking shawl.

This goddess always looks like she's about to go to a music festival or take those special mushrooms. But she's clean, so clean, she smells so damn good. Fuck! Stop thinking about Maeve, dammit. I can never have her. I could never be selfish enough to poison her with my life. But it doesn't stop me from wishing I could.

By the time I get my basement as clean as I'm happy with, the sun is about ready to rise. This is going to be another long day. Thank fuck I don't have my first client until noon today.

I head upstairs, taking a much needed shower and moisturizing myself before pulling on some pajamas. I'll worry about burning those blood and bleach stained clothes tomorrow. That's what they're for anyway. I have an entire cabinet of cheap t-shirts and shorts specifically for throwing away after I've cleaned the basement. Today, I just need some sleep. I don't think I've slept in like thirty hours. It was easy staying up for days at a time when I was eighteen and killing, but now at thirty-four? I struggle.

At eighteen, I could stay up all day, kill who I needed at night, clean it up, and still have the energy to make it to class at eight. Of course then, I hadn't perfected my skill. I didn't have a safe place to do it, so I usually did it at the victims' houses.

I always staged it like a robbery, stealing a few things, busting the door off the frame, andmadethe injuries look like they struggled. That kinda shit. I'm surprised I never got caught when I was young and ignorant, but I would always keep an eye on the investigations, not relaxing until I saw that the police had ruled it a robbery and left it alone.

As I perfected my skill, I realized I needed a controlled environment, I needed a stable and sterile place to do what I like. I need somewhere that won't stain with blood, somewhere soundproof and isolated. My first official spot was a closed down store on the outskirts of town, I'd drag them into the freezer where nobody could hear them if they screamed. But after a year or two of that, someone bought the building.

I didn't buy this house until I was twenty-two. I live on a dead-end road, I'm the last house on the road, and my closest neighbor is over a mile away. It's secluded and quiet. It's everything I could have asked for.

Of course, it came with a steep price tag. It also needed work done. The basement was unfinished, and the driveway was gravel. Nothing I can't handle. I don't know much about construction, but I figured it out. It took me over a year to get the basement built how I needed it.