Stalker

by Clarissa Wild

  “If the guard has gone missing, they’ll notice soon enough,” she mutters.

  “Oh, don’t worry about them. Getting this cage wasn’t the only thing I did when I left you here alone.”

  Her eyes widen. “What did you do?”

  “I got his body from the bushes, put him in his truck, and drove it off the road into the river.”

  She gasps, taken aback by how simple I can speak about death. What can I say? Once you’ve done it enough, you grow numb to the feelings it’s supposed to invoke. I don’t care about life or death. It can be a blessing but also a curse.

  Suddenly, she leaps toward the bars, like an animal desperate for more. “What about Arthur?” she asks.

  “Well, after I stabbed him, I’m not sure he got very far. But when I came back out to find him, he was gone. Must’ve crawled to try to save his life. Of course, it’s futile because losing that much blood is fatal. I suppose he’s still lying in the yard somewhere underneath a tree or something.”

  Her lips begin to tremble and her eyes fill with sweet, delicious tears again. I could almost eat them up; that’s how much I adore seeing them. “He’s dead?”

  “Possibly,” I muse, as I sit on my heels to make the final changes on the laptop. “Most likely.”

  “How could you? He has nothing to do with this. Nothing,” she sputters. “And you murdered him!”

  “Yeah, well, technically, he does have something to do with this.”

  “Just because he’s my new lover? Why? What did he ever do to you?” she asks, desperation seeping into her voice. “He didn’t deserve to die.”

  “He didn’t do anything to me, but he was going to do something to you. And don’t tell me you didn’t notice the change in his behavior.”

  “What do you mean? What do you know about it?” she asks with furrowed brows. “Tell me!”

  I smile at her command. It’s funny how she still thinks she can control people, even from inside a cage. “Maybe I’ll tell you later. Maybe not. Who knows?” I lean in and wink. “I do. And I like being the only one to know what’s going to happen to you.”

  “Fuck you,” she says.

  I grab her chin and pull her toward me. “No, fuck you, for ruining my life.”

  I push her back so she falls on her ass. “I don’t deserve this.”

  “Oh, have you forgotten about that time you framed me, making me go to jail for something you did?”

  “You murdered Phillip! Of course, you went to jail. It was only a matter of time before they caught you.”

  “No, it was only a matter of time before they caught you, but you didn’t like that, now did you?”

  She narrows her eyes, slamming her lips shut as if saying something would ruin her chances to get out. What she doesn’t realize is that I already know everything, and that it’s already too late to redeem herself. She made her choice the moment she decided that I was her enemy instead of her friend.

  “You tried to frame me for the murder of my husband,” she says, tucking her curly fake blond hair behind her ears as if she means business. Cute.

  “No, you killed him with your own bare hands.”

  “I didn’t! I just handed him the glass of poison you gave to me! I didn’t know it had poison in it. How is that fair?”

  “Anything is fair in love and war, sweet cheeks,” I muse, closing the laptop. “You played the game and you lost. End of story.”

  “And you think that’s an okay reason to lock me up like some kind of animal?”

  I put the laptop back in my bag. “Actually, yes, considering you did the same thing to me.”

  “That is not the same.”

  Fuck, she fucking annoys the shit out of me when she keeps yammering on about these things, as if she’s trying to convince herself.

  “It is the exact same thing,” I say, looking her in the eye.

  “This cage is barely the size of my body. I can’t even stand in here. And you want to compare this to prison?”

  Rage takes control, and I lash out at her, grabbing the collar of her dress and pulling her toward me. “Listen up, Missy. My jail time wasn’t pretty. You don’t wanna know how many men I had to beat up just to stay safe. You don’t even know what they do to people in there. Fuck, I’m glad I never dropped any soap, but I’ve seen men turned into a wifey. Do you have any fucking clue what it’s like in there?”

  She shakes her head but keeps her resolve intact as we have a staring match.

  “No, you don’t, and you’re right, this wasn’t what my prison looked like. But you deserve much, much worse for that.”

  “Why? For framing you?”

  “For being just like me … only worse. And you know exactly why, so stop asking. Stop trying to justify your own righteousness. It’s wrong, and if you won’t believe it, I’ll make you.”

  “Why don’t you just kill me then? If I’m such a criminal?” she asks as I let go of her.

  “Because I’ve decided that I’m going to take my time and enjoy every second of your punishment for as long as possible.”

  “You’re sick,” she says, wincing. “A sick bastard.”

  “Thanks,” I say. “For infecting me, I mean.”

  When anger flashes across her face, I smile at her. I love that sight. The rage and confusion clearly visible on her face brings me so much joy. It’s like she finally gets to experience what I have had to endure all these years. Sweet, merciless revenge.

  I lean in closer to the cage and admire the sight of my captive from up close. She’s still as beautiful as ever, with rosy cheeks and lips to match, so alluring … like a seductress, only the bad kind. The kind that gets you killed.

  She’s not a good girl, despite her looks. She likes to play with people, spinning lies around their hearts. But I’m not stupid, and I won’t fall into her web. That doesn’t mean I have to stay at a safe distance, though, because from the way I see it, I’ll need to get up close and personal to hurt her. So personal that she won’t be able to tell the difference between pain and pleasure. I want her to experience both, so I can break her down mentally and emotionally.

  But not before I get everything I want from her. Now that she’s within my grasp, I finally have the chance to act out all the fantasies I’ve had since I was stuck in jail. Oh, the amount of times I’ve thought of kissing those sweet, poisonous lips and ramming my hard cock into her wet folds have made me crazy with lust in addition to the rage.

  And there she is, sitting in her cage, looking at me with those doll eyes and pouty lips, ready to receive. Fuck.

  “What are you doing?” she asks slowly, as if she’s trying to understand me. As if that’s even possible. Even I don’t understand myself. I sure as hell don’t understand the conflicted feelings that I’m having right now. Like, on one hand, I want to fuck her into oblivion, and on the other hand, I want to tear her heart out.

  Such a difficult choice.

  I reach into the cage and grab her chin. “Admiring my prey.”

  She tries to swat my hand away, but I grab her wrist and shake my head. “Uh-uh. If you want me to be nice, you have to behave.”

  “You don’t do nice,” she says.

  I smile. “Hmm … you might be right on that part.”

  “Once,” she adds.

  “Once what?”

  “You were nice … once.”

  My smile dissipates. “It was all a lie. Fake. Just like you.”

  The hurt in her eyes is like food to my soul. “You don’t mean that. You just want to hurt me.”

  “Maybe I do, maybe I don’t. Is it working?” I jest.

  “Oh, fuck off …” she mutters, frowning.

  “No, but if you ask nicely, I might fuck you later.”

  She winces. “As if I would ever let you.”

  Turning her head with my fingers, I lean in closer and whisper in her ear, “That’s a lie. You and I both know you never have and never will be able to resist me.”

  I can’t stop my to
ngue from dipping out to lick her neck. Just one taste is enough to send a shiver down my spine. Fuck, she’s still as delicious as I remember, and those goosebumps on her skin only add to my excitement.

  I turn her head toward me and smile against her skin. “Try to deny it, Vanessa. You can’t, and I won’t ever believe you. You see, I know you. I know who you are, what you are, and you’ll never be able to hide behind those lies. Not in front of me.”

  She swallows, her entire body trembling as I gaze deeply into her eyes, taking in the fear that resides in them. And then I smash my lips on hers.

  I kiss her hard and callously, not giving a shit about whether or not she wants it. I’m going for it. I’m taking what’s mine now. She’s in a cage, and she can’t fight me. Not that she wants to. She’s whimpering into my mouth as I kiss her deeper, not taking her lips off me, even though I bet she’s telling herself in her mind that she should.

  She can’t. Just like I can’t take my fucking mouth off hers. She’s so fucking attractive; it’s impossible to stay away from her. The memories from long ago come flooding back in, and the more I think about them, the more I remember why I wanted her to be mine.

  Once, long ago, when we weren’t an asshole and a bitch set out to ruin each other’s lives.

  She must’ve been tapping into the same memory because suddenly she pulls away and jerks her arm loose. Her swollen lips are parted, and the look on her face is appalled. Appetizing.

  “What … was that?” she mutters.

  “Me, taking what belongs to me.”

  “I don’t belong to you,” she hisses, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

  “You see this cage?” I say, pointing to the bars. “It, and all the contents within, belongs to me. I own you now.”

  “In your dreams,” she says.

  “If you only knew …” I say.

  “Did you dream of killing me too, then?” she taunts. “Did you spend every waking thought thinking about all the ways you’d make me bleed for what I’ve done?”

  “As a matter of fact, yes, I have.”

  She laughs patronizingly. “Well, isn’t that contradictory. You want to kiss me, and you want to kill me.”

  “Exactly,” I say, folding my arms. “I’m going to fuck your body. I’m going to fuck your mind. And, in the end, I’m going to fuck you up. Guess what those three things have in common?”

  “You’re fucked-up,” she says.

  I laugh. “I guess there are four things, then.”

  “God …” she says, averting her eyes. “I can’t believe it’s come to this. You really plan to keep me in this cage, don’t you? Like some kind of pet?”

  I reach into the cage, and she backs away to the corner, but she can’t escape my grasp. I pat her on the head and say, “Like a perfect pet.”

  “Screw you,” she says, spitting on my hand. “You disgust me.”

  “Why? Because I’m treating you the same way that you treated me? Like some kind of pet you can toy with?” I wipe my hand on her cheek. “You’re just getting a taste of your own medicine.”

  She suddenly latches onto my arm and pulls it toward her then she bites me.

  “Fuck!” I retract my arm and look at the mark on my underarm. She’s punctured my skin with her teeth, blood bubbling to the surface. “You fucking bitch!”

  She spits again. “Yuck.”

  I walk to the backside of her cage and reach for her hands. When she tries to back away, I grab them and twist her arms to the point of her squealing. “Ow! That hurts!”

  “Yeah, probably not as much as that wound you just gave me. Fucking hell. You’ll pay for that.” I grab my belt and wrap it around her wrists again, tying her to one of the bars of the cage. “That’s for trying to fuck with me.”

  “What are you going to do? Hurt me?” she mocks. “You were already going to do that, so I figured why not hurt you, too? At least then you’re not the only one having fun.”

  Grinding my teeth, I slam the cage with a flat hand, almost wanting to just snap her neck and get it over with. But I won’t. That’s exactly what she wants, and she’s taunting me, trying to coax me to kill her, but I won’t fall into that trap.

  A single bite won’t persuade me to change plans, and I won’t allow her to make me think of ending this any sooner than exactly when I want it to.

  “You fucking do that again, and I will cut you in places you won’t enjoy,” I warn, holding up my knife for her to see. “It’s not just a threat, Vanessa. I will do it if you don’t behave.”

  She looks at me for a second, and then, out of nowhere, she starts laughing. “Oh, Phoenix … that’s what you call yourself now, isn’t it?” she hums. “I don’t think you know me well enough.”

  I squint. “Hmm … let’s put that to the test, shall we?” The left side of my lip tugs because I can’t help but feel anxious to start. “We’re going to have so much fun together. Just like back in the old days.”

  ***

  Age 12

  I don’t know why Vanessa is friends with me, or why she even bothers to talk to me. Nobody ever tries. Or maybe they’re just afraid of me. I’d be, so I don’t blame them. My fists have a mind of their own.

  I always feel so angry whenever someone tries to hurt me. It’s as if a switch turns on inside my head, and all I can think of is ramming into whatever is in front of me. Whether it’s a wall or a human; nothing escapes my wrath.

  And still she wants to hang out with me. Every day after school, she makes a little bit of time for me in her busy schedule, even though we both know she can’t spare it. Her parents have her on such a difficult schedule that it’s tough for her to keep up with homework. I don’t understand why they’re so harsh on her. She deserves better than that. If I had parents like that, I’d have run away long ago. But not her … nuh-uh, she keeps trying to make them happy. I don’t know why because they keep telling her that she’s done something wrong or bad. They never approve of her, so I don’t get why it matters to her so much. It’s as if she still believes that they’ll finally be happy if she performs well enough.

  But I’ve already seen it. They’ll never be close to happy. They have the same look in their eyes as the caretakers at the orphanage did, back when I still lived there. My foster parents don’t look at me that way. Even though they don’t know what to do with me, they don’t dislike me. Vanessa’s parents look at her like she’s worthless. Like she means nothing. Or maybe they’re just hoping for something that isn’t there.

  I don’t understand why people can’t just leave each other alone and let them be. Maybe she doesn’t want to do so much homework. Maybe she wants to play with me, and they should let her do what she wants. Why don’t they want to see her happy? Do they only care about themselves?

  I guess, since they hate having me around too, even though I’m the only one bringing a smile to her face every once in a while. The way they look at me makes me lean back every time I’m at their door. They look like they see a ghost. That, or I smell rotten. I don’t know which one it is.

  We’re sitting in the grass at the place I like to sit and listen to the wind. It’s so peaceful here … it makes me calm inside, and there're not a lot of things that can do that to me. This is sort of my secret spot, my hideout, the place I bury my memories and secrets so no one will ever find them.

  She’s reading her book while I’m enjoying the sun. I don’t do homework because it’s not my thing. I don’t understand most of it, and I just don’t have the concentration for it. I admire her for it. I wish I could sit down and stare at a book for hours on end.

  “You should really read this book, you know,” she says.

  “Why?”

  “Because we have a test about this chapter tomorrow.”

  “Hmm …”

  “Don’t you care?” she asks, looking up from her book.

  I gaze at her with a sneaky smile. “No. Why should I?”

  “Well …” She closes her book. “Don’t
your parents get mad or something?”

  “They’re not my parents.” I look the other way.

  “I don’t understand.”

  When I look at her, she’s frowning. “I don’t have parents. Or at least, I don’t know who they are.”

  “Then where do you live?” she asks.

  “With my foster parents.”

  “Then they are your parents,” she says.

  I shake my head. “That’s not the same …”

  She doesn’t know they don’t really like me. Not in the way that they would if I were their real son. They tolerate me, but that’s it. I’m still a fighter, still an unwanted brat, no matter how nicely you wrap the words.

  “Yeah, it is. They take care of you. You live in their house. They’re your parents.” She shrugs. “There’s no difference.”

  I chuckle a little. “You make it sound so easy.”

  “It’s easier if you don’t think about it too much,” she muses.

  “But is it worth it?” I ask.

  She mulls about it for a second. “Maybe …”

  I wrap my hands together behind my head and take a deep breath. “Figured you’d say that.”

  “What? Why?”

  I laugh. “You’re so predictable.”

  “I am not.” She slaps me with her book, which hits quite hard, but it only makes me laugh harder.

  “You are, but it’s good.” I snatch the book from her hand before she does any real damage with it. “I like it.”

  A flush appears on her cheeks, and the moment that I realize what I’ve said, I shut my mouth, turning the other cheek. Embarrassing shit.

  Suddenly, her fingers touch mine, and I flinch but relax when I notice she’s weaving hers through mine.

  “I like you, too,” she says with a cute smile.

  And right at that moment, it feels like my history means nothing compared to the time I still get to spend with her.

  ***

  Present

  Just thinking about the past makes me crack my knuckles, wishing I could erase it from my memory. Oh, I’ll get to spend all the time in the world with her now. Just not in the way I envisioned it. I’m no longer naïve, and Vanessa is no longer the sweet girl I used to know.