by Lacey Alpha
My dearest Annalise,
I still remember the day you were born, your little wrinkled hands and big amber eyes. When I held you for the first time, you cried and cried. But I rocked you over and over until you were soothed, until my arms ached. In the final days of my life, I recall the weight of you then, how small and fragile you were. And I think of you now and how proud I am of who you've become. You've always followed your heart, no matter what your mother and I have asked of you. You live life how it should be lived: for your dreams, your passions, for love. And I couldn't ask for more than that.
Look after your mother, she needs you more than you realise. And remember to never lose hope, darling. Things will always work out for the best, even when the world seems dark and you can't understand how things will ever be light again, the clouds will break and the sun will shine. I promise.
Love you always and forever,
Dad
I place the letter down, my hand trembling. My mother dabs the lipstick on her lips and I stand, snatching the mirror from her hand. “How can you sit here putting make-up on? How can you do it?!”
Her blue eyes narrow on me and she stands. “Don't stand there accusing me, Annalise. You don't know anything!”
She snatches the mirror from my hand, turning and heading straight into the bathroom. The door slams and I flinch, a shudder running through me.
I unravel, sinking into my seat, resting my head in my arms, letting myself break apart.
ETHAN
With Annalise refusing to see me after her father's passing, I descend into chaos. I'm left floundering, trying to stay above the waves, above the darkness. I sink lower and lower every day. And soon I fall into old habits.
I spend most nights outside her window, kneeling on the fire escape, rain or shine. I watch as she unravels, both she and her mother struggling to live on top of one another, both of them breaking apart when the other isn't looking.
I stopped calling her after a few days. She needs time to heal. And perhaps this break is what I need too, selfish as it is. Perhaps this is how we should be: me beyond the window gazing in at the beauty of her true self.
Her pain is my pain and I feel it in the deepest regions of my body. There are times when I'm so absorbed, gazing at her, that I lose sense of all time, hours slipping by until I finally remember to go home. To stop watching.
Today is the day of the funeral and I plan to be there, to pay my respects to the man who brought this perfect being into the world. Who loved and cared for her, who taught her about life, about love. Her father couldn't have been anything like mine, no one would sit crying over him. No one would have wept when he died. And perhaps that's the point of living that my father missed, that being loved is all you have in the end. And if no one cares that you're gone, what good did you do? What was the point of your short time on this earth?
The thoughts warn off the voice for a while. I'm left in peace as I follow Annalise and her mother to the funeral, taking a taxi and telling the driver to follow theirs.
I'm dressed in a black hoody and jeans. I know how to blend into the background, I know how to move amongst a crowd unseen. I can be invisible in plain sight.
We arrive at an ancient church in St Pancras. The sky is stormy, threatening rain, the world seeming sapped of colour, of light.
I follow at a distance, taking in the pale faces of those gathered here. This man was loved, everyone here is devastated at his loss. What was my father's funeral like? How many people were there? Did anyone cry for him?
I felt nothing but relief the day I heard he was gone. Like the world was a little brighter because of his absence. I don't know what that makes me, but I know it isn't good.
I watch as Annalise hugs friends, her family, tears sliding down her pale cheeks. I'd give anything to walk up to her, to offer her my arms as comfort. But she wouldn't want me here, I'm not a part of this grief. I'm just an observer, witnessing her pain, her heartache.
I wait in the graveyard as the funeral takes place inside, winding amongst the tombstones, amongst the dead. I'm more at home here than I am in that church. Would anyone grieve over me if I laid here, six feet under? There was a time when I was loved. I had friends, people who cared. I shut them out, I lost sight of who I was and I didn't want them to see who I had become.
In my first year of service, I was taken out in a crossfire, caught two bullets in my torso. I was shipped back to England after I was stitched up, recovering in a hospital. Friends came to me then, bringing cards, flowers. I was still an unbroken man.
There was even a girl, Kelly, she liked me. There was a time when I considered being with her.
I saw her years later, after the incident in Iraq, after I was discharged. At a bar in East London, she looked right at me, surrounded by friends. She saw me as this, as what I am now. And she gazed through me with steady eyes, turning away. I don't know if she didn't recognise me or if she didn't care to. I had no right to be angry, but I was. And I spent days beating myself up for it, lost to the voice in my head, lost to my father's insults. She had every right to hate me, I'd shut her out with the rest of our friends. But that didn't make it any easier.
The procession emerge from the church and I watch, hanging back by the trees, my eyes flitting from one cold expression to another. Nearly every face is wet with tears. This man was someone special, someone adored. And I hope wherever he is now, he knows he lived life the right way.
CLARISSA
Ethan comes to my house every couple of days. He's so very close to breaking, it's beautiful to watch. To rip such a sturdy, broken man in half and play with his tortured soul is heavenly.
I don't know why, but he no longer has that lightness about him. That hope. Perhaps the girl he was seeing broke up with him. Perhaps she saw the dark in him and ran.
He won't tell me either way. He's often silent throughout our sessions, his cries of agony the only noise he makes. But I know he's closer to being mine than ever...
At 5pm sharp, he comes to me, his eyes hollow and lacking in strength. Yes, he's very close. Perhaps not today, or tomorrow, but soon I'll have him shredded and torn.
I take his arm, leading him to the basement. “How are you Ethan?”
He just sighs.
“You're hurting. Is there something on your mind?” I walk him to the metal frame and he stands on it without a word, tugging off his shirt and lifting his arms.
His body is riddled with my marks, branding him as mine. Each one a symbol of my power.
“Annalise,” he breathes.
“Don't speak her name,” I hiss, a spike of anger going through me. I don't want that girl mentioned in this space. My space. This is a place of sanctuary, of strict rules where I am in charge.
“Sorry,” he mumbles as I tighten the straps around his wrists.
I run my fingers down his abs and he eyes me curiously. He's magnificent, like a dark angel tethered here by my hand, surrendering me his tainted soul.
I move to the chest, selecting a new implement, one I haven't used on him before. It's a tazer with a triangular metal prong on the end, three sharp serrated points, capable of cutting the skin. I'm going to increase the amount of pain he takes twice fold. If I'm going to get him to break, I need to up my game.
I saunter over to him, a rush of adrenaline flooding through my body. I eye his jeans, the line of hair running beneath them. He's never got hard for me in our sessions. That's something I'm disappointed with. He doesn't find this sexual, but perhaps once he's given in to my power, he'll allow me to touch him. I'd like to offer him pleasure, and that's unusual for me. But I admire this man and his strength. We're equals. And perhaps he's what I've been looking for all these years. A man to match me. But first I must get him to do my bidding without question. There is still a fire that burns in him but it's glowing low and I need to douse it completely.
“Tell me what you are,” I purr and I see him straining with the voice in his head.
“Scum
,” he growls, and I jab the tazer into his side, puncturing the skin.
He cries out, his screams causing me to grow hungry for him.
I hold it in place, my breathing increasing as I watch him come apart, his face contorted in agony.
I extract my arm, gazing at the blood spilling from the cut. I reach out, catching the line that slides down his skin.
“This is what you want?” I ask, showing him the blood on my hand.
He grimaces at me then nods, shutting his eyes. I paint the blood onto his chest in a crescent moon, a C, marking him as mine. Owning him.
ETHAN
The days lose meaning. Time is nothing. The only difference is whether it's dark or light beyond my window. I lay, barely eating, not sleeping. I'm void of anything, including the voice, the pain.
I'm hollowed out, a dead tree with nothing but space beneath its bark.
There's only one place I can go, to try and drag the life back into my body. To Annalise.
I roll out of bed, pulling on some clothes, dark jeans, dark jacket, tugging up my hood.
The guilt is absent as I head to her place, my heart beating steadily, unfazed but what I'm about to do.
I reach the fire escape behind her house. It's dark in the alley, the moon concealed behind clouds tonight. They sail across the sky, the wind whipping through the air. I tug the ladder down, the screech of metal making my blood spike with adrenaline. I gain feeling again, desire.
I climb the rungs, higher and higher until I ascend to the ledge where I can see in. I kneel, worship-like but I'm not here for God, I'm here for her.
She's in the kitchen. If I crawl to the edge of the metal platform I can just see through the door where light is spilling into the lounge. Her mother isn't present, so it's just me and her. Little does she know.
After a while she enters the lounge, dropping onto the sofa with a glass of white wine. She turns the television on and I sit back on my heels, relaxing, absorbing her expression. She seems brighter at last, I think her pain is finally easing.
I'm so mesmerised that I barely notice the moon slipping free of the clouds, its milky glow shining down on me, illuminating me.
Annalise's eyes snap to the window and I freeze, ice flooding my veins.
There's a moment that lasts an eternity where I know she's seen me. And then I remember to move.
She stands in alarm, hurrying toward the pane. But I'm already gone hooking my ankles either side of the ladder and sliding down at speed.
Fuck!
I'm running as I hit the floor, sprinting as fast as I can toward the street, turning right, speeding down the road.
Fucking idiot. You deserve to be caught.
I'm breathless as I reach home, heading inside and charging upstairs, not stopping until I'm safely locked away inside my flat. My breathing is shallow, my chest raw.
I scrape a hand through my hair, pacing, anxious as hell. What if she recognised me? Did she get close enough to tell?
My phone rings and I jump, tugging it out of my pocket and finding Annalise calling.
I gaze at in horror. What if she knows? What if she's calling to tell me the police are on their way?
I have no choice. I have to find out the truth.
I inhale deeply, trying to slow my ragged breathing. “Hello?” I try to sound calm, clenching my jaw hard.
“Ethan, shit. I'm sorry to call but...there was someone here, at my flat. Watching me.” She sounds sickened and I nearly convulse at her tone.
You're that sicko she's afraid of.
“What?” I act dumb, panting, unable to help myself.
“I've called the police. Someone was outside my window!” She's frantic and my pulse is ever-rising.
I did this to her. I scared her.
“Fuck,” I breathe, unsure how to respond.
Worthless piece of shit.
“I'm sorry- I just didn't know who else to call...”
“It's alright,” I try, rubbing my fingers against my eyelids.
“Can you come over? I don't want to be alone. My mum's staying with my aunt tonight.”
Shit. This is not good. How can I go over there and comfort her for something I did?
“Lise...”
“Please, Ethan.”
Her anxious tone breaks me in half and I find myself giving in. “Sure, course. I'll be there soon.”
“Thank you,” she exhales.
I hang up, dropping my phone to the bed, gazing at it in horror. What the fuck have I done?
I shower, washing away the sweat, shaving the inch of stubble I've not bothered to deal with in nearly a week.
When I'm dressed, I head to Annalise's place, finding a police car pulled up outside.
My blood chills. What if they suspect me? What if they work it out? What if they find CCTV footage or ask one of the neighbours, someone that caught a glimpse of me?
I approach the door, finding it ajar. I head upstairs, knocking on Annalise's door, trying to get a handle on my anxiety.
She answers, her eyes wide and fearful as she throws her arms around me. “Oh Ethan.”
“It's alright,” I murmur, circling my arms around her waist. This is the sickest thing I've ever done. How can I continue to deceive her like this?
There's two police officers inside, a male and female. The woman eyes me with suspicion and I immediately drop my gaze to my feet.
“This is Ethan, my er- boyfriend,” Annalise splutters.
I frown at the them, holding out my hand for the police to take.
“Good evening. Will you be staying with Miss Drake tonight?” the male officer asks, his large moustache twitching.
“Yes,” I confirm and Annalise slides her hand into mine.
Sordid fuck-up.
“Good. Well we'll do a sweep of the area and ask the neighbours if they saw anything. From now on, I suggest you keep the curtains closed.”
“That's it?” Annalise questions, her tone high-pitched. “Keep my curtains closed?”
I thumb the back of her hand, trying to think of anything I could say that would make this any less horrendous.
“Yes. I'm afraid that's all we can offer you at the moment. We'll keep you informed,” the woman says, nodding before leading the way to the door.
Annalise gazes after them in disbelief. “What a waste of time.”
I clear my throat, shifting my weight from one foot to the other. “So...did you see who it was?”
“No. Just a figure.” She rubs her eyes. “Christ, what if he's come here before, Ethan?”
I shake my head at her, having no answer. He's definitely been here before, he's in your fucking house.
Monster, monster, monster.
She takes my hand, glancing at the window where the pale blue curtains are now firmly closed.
“Can we go to the bedroom? I feel uncomfortable in here.”
Fuck. I've caused this.
I tug my fingers free, stepping back. I shouldn't be here. I should go. How could I have come here?
Comforted by the man she's afraid of. Sick fuck.
“Ethan? Is everything okay?” She eyes me, searching.
I frown heavily. I have no choice. I have to stay with her. I can't tell her the truth.
I follow her to the bedroom and she kicks the door firmly closed.
She perches on the edge of the bed, glancing up at me, looking vulnerable.
“How have you been?” I ask softly.
She sighs, falling back onto the bed, wriggling up to the pillows. “Fine, I guess.”
“I doubt that,” I murmur. “You lost your dad, you must have been going through hell.”
She nods and suddenly I see tears, her face screwing up. She drops an arm over her eyes.
I despise seeing her like this, it kills me.
I kick off my shoes, sliding out of jacket before crawling onto the bed and pulling her into my arms.
I know I shouldn't. But she wants comfort from me, and I can't fight the u
rge to give it to her.
She snuggles into my chest, her tears dampening my shirt.
“I've missed you,” she whispers, pawing at me.
I'm undone, my heart racing, my body coming to life in a soaring wave.
“I've missed you, too,” I say softly guiding her hand to my mouth, trailing my lips over her warm skin.
She stops crying, leaning up and kissing me, cupping my cheek.
I stiffen, not wanting this to get out of hand.
Go ahead. Stalk her and then fuck her.
She clutches me, desperate, tugging up my shirt.
“Annalise,” I warn but she keeps tugging.
I pull it firmly down, not wanting her to see the mess Clarissa has made of my body.
She frowns, pulling away. Her expression is so hurt that I catch her hand.
“Eyes,” I sigh and she nods, closing them.
I survey her longing expression, her chin tilted up, waiting. For what? For me to kiss her?
She thinks she's safe with me. Safe from the stalker. How little she knows. I'm filled with the desire to show her. To show her the one to be feared is in this room.
“Don't open your eyes,” I command and she nods.
I push her off my lap, leaving her kneeling at the centre of the bed. I run a hand through my hair, eyeing her, circling the bed. Fuck. Is this a good idea?
Show her what you are.
“Take off your clothes,” I say quietly, standing at the end of the bed, watching her, becoming the monster.
This is who you are.
She pulls off her top, wriggling out of her jogging bottoms before tentatively unhooking her bra, her eyes remaining closed all the while.
I grow hard at the sight of her full breasts and even harder as she tugs off her little thong, baring herself to me.
She lays back on the bed, lifting her knees so I'm rewarded with the sweet view of her pussy.
