Stalker

by Clarissa Wild

  “Yes, ma’am. I’ll tell them that you’ll be there in a second. I’ll take their coats and bring them some coffee or tea.”

  “Good.” My mother’s snappy tone makes me frown, but then she says, “Ah-ah, Vanessa. No frowning. I don’t want you to mess up your make-up.”

  “Sorry,” I say, sighing.

  “And try to sigh a little less, too.”

  “Should I stop breathing too, mother?” I ask.

  She chuckles in that regular uptight tone of hers. “Nonsense, my dear. I just want you to look good.”

  “No, you want me to look like a doll.”

  “What’s wrong with looking like a doll, dear?” she says, smiling as she applies some last-minute powder, making me cough. “Perfect.” She grabs my shoulders and points at the mirror. “Look at how pretty you are.” I smile when I hear her compliment. “Almost as beautiful as your mother.” The smile immediately disappears.

  “Mother, why are we doing this again?” I ask, as she starts pulling on my dress to make it tighter so she can zip me up.

  “Because we have important visitors today, honey. I already told you that.”

  “But you promised me that I could go out and have some fun today.”

  “Honey … we’ve been through this already. Sometimes business gets in the way of fun.”

  “What business?”

  “You’ll find out soon enough,” she says, chuckling a little.

  “But I promised Miles that I’d come and see him today,” I say.

  Her face suddenly turns rigid. “Miles? You mean that boy?”

  “Yes. I like him.”

  “Well, I don’t,” she snaps, zipping me up so quickly that I have to suck in a breath.

  I put my arms at my side. “You said he couldn’t come to my party. I hated not having him there. I wish you’d allowed him inside the house.”

  “Oh, no,” she says. “That filthy boy? Never.”

  “Filthy? He’s not filthy,” I say, making a face.

  “Honey, he spends half his time on the streets.”

  “That’s because he hates his foster parents.” He hates them so much, he never even allowed me to meet them. That’s how ashamed he was.

  “And he behaves like a wild animal,” my mother adds, as she pats her own hair and admires herself in the mirror.

  “That’s because they bully him, so he fights back.”

  “I don’t care why he does it. I don’t want him in my house.”

  “Well, you promised me that I could go out and do what I wanted after what happened at the party.”

  “No, I said you could go out and have some fun but only with nice, well-educated children.”

  “I’m not a child anymore, Mother, and I don’t like this at all. I want to see Miles. I don’t want to meet your ‘important people.’” I make quotation marks with my fingers.

  “I don’t care what you want, darling. You will not go out and see him. Not today.”

  “Not any day if it were up to you,” I sneer.

  “Exactly,” she says, turning toward me. “Don’t act like I don’t have your best interests at heart. You know that I want what’s best for you, and Miles is not it.”

  I wince. “No, you have your best interests at heart.”

  She sighs. “Honey, we don’t have time for this. We’ll have this discussion another day.” She grabs my hand. “Our guests are waiting.”

  “No! I don’t want to.” I jerk my arm, but she’s not letting me go.

  “You’re going to see them whether you want to or not,” she hisses, turning her head toward me like a snake who’s about to bite off my head.

  “No, let go of me,” I yell.

  “Sometimes you just have to do what you don’t want to because it’s the best in the long run. You can’t have what you desire, but you’ll get so much more in return,” she mutters as she drags me toward the door.

  “Let me go!” I yell.

  Right as she opens the door, the housekeeper is knocking, and her hand stops midair, her eyes zooming in on us. “Is everything okay, ma’am?”

  “Yes.” My mother immediately directs her attention toward me. “Now you’re going to behave,” she whispers. “You’re going to be nice to our guests. You’re going to be cordial, sweet, charming, and everything that makes a woman desirable. You will talk to them like the good girl you are, or I will make sure you never set foot outside this house again. Is that understood?”

  I swallow, frowning in silent protest. I keep my lips slammed together, refusing to answer.

  “You will do as I say, or I will have that boy … Miles …”

  “Don’t you dare touch him,” I say.

  She squints. “Hmm … you think your mother is capable of harming a human being?”

  “I know you’d let others do the hurting. As long as you get what you want,” I say.

  I’ve seen her do it plenty of times. With my aunt, for example. Her little boy was only eight when a truck ‘accidentally’ hit him. He died shortly after due to a brain hemorrhage. Of course, it was no accident; that truck bore the logo of one of the funders for my father’s campaign. My aunt had threatened to expose my father’s shady practices for acquiring money. In the end, he still won, so I guess my aunt learned her lesson.

  Never cross my parents. My mother is the worst of them; she’s usually the one behind all the drama. My father knows only ten percent of the things she does. I know because I asked him one time, and he acted like he didn’t know a thing about it. Of course, I do watch the news, and I know how to spot my father’s sponsors. I’ve met them many times, and I know their logos. It’s just so sad that they think they can hide their evil acts from me. It’s like they’re still trying to pretend they’re good, for me.

  Except my mother has slowly been showing her true colors to me, like today. I’ve seen her behave like a wicked witch before. But she’s never threatened to hurt someone I like before.

  It’s like she’s only nice to me when she wants something from me. In this case, it’s talking to some people. I’m sure there’s more to it than she’s letting me know.

  She pushes me through the hallway and into the living room, where a couple is sitting on the couch, and, judging from their wrinkles and desperate attempts to hide them, they’re about the same age as my parents. A boy gets up from his seat across the room, smiling like an idiot when he sees me.

  “Vanessa,” my mother says as the people stand up to greet me. “Meet the Starr’s.”

  The boy is the first to grab my hand and shake it. “Hi, I’m Phillip.”

  “Hi,” I say, a little unsure of what to do.

  “You’re adorable. Just perfect for my little boy,” his mother says, and I shake her thin, bony hand.

  His father pinches my cheek, making me cringe. “What a lovely girl.”

  I pull on my mother’s sleeve, and she leans in to listen to my question. “What does she mean with ‘for my little boy?’”

  My mother clears her throat. “Let’s go sit with our guests.”

  The happy, anxious looks on their faces creep me out, as if they’re expecting some kind of performance from me. “Mother, who are these people?” I whisper as we all walk back to the couch.

  “Don’t be rude, Vanessa. These people are important. They support your father’s campaign.”

  “Oh …” I say. Not another one.

  “Their boy is very nice. He even attends the same school you do.”

  “My high school?” I ask, perplexed. “I’ve never seen him there before.”

  “Well, he does, so I’m sure you two will be able to find each other now. You’ll grow fond of him, I’m sure.”

  “Why? I don’t even know him yet. Hard to tell from here,” I say.

  “You’ll get to know him soon enough, my dear. Better than you imagined.” She chuckles a little.

  “What do you mean?” I ask.

  “Well,” she whispers as we sit down, “he’ll make an excellent h
usband for you.”

  The fake smile plastered on my face cracks through the middle. I swallow, as I see the world and my future as I imagined it fading before my eyes. I wanted to go out and see the world, to kiss different boys and tell my girlfriends what it would be like, to marry the man of my dreams when I was ready, and to become an actress because that’s what I like to do. Those were my dreams.

  And now my dreams have shattered in two.

  As I stare out the window, listening to the endless chatter between the adults, I see a boy with a magnifying glass outside in the grass not far from our house. His dark eyes bore into mine as he stops, lifts his head, and gazes at me with a look that’s as much broken as mine.

  My mother didn’t want him here on my birthday. Not once was I allowed to invite him inside. So I didn’t. I distanced myself from him. I wanted to protect him from her wrath. She’d kill him if she found out how I felt about him. She promised me that I could go out and spend some time with him later. I guess it was all a lie to make me do what she wanted. They all lie … and my mother is the worst of them all.

  “C’mon, Vanessa,” my mother suddenly says, and she grabs my hand and pulls me up from the couch.

  “Where are we going? I thought we had guests,” I say as she pulls me to another room.

  “Yes, but we have to discuss something.”

  “Now?”

  “Now.” Her command brings chills to my bones. She’s so angry sometimes that it scares me. I can never please her, but now it seems as if she wants to skin me alive.

  As she stops near a window, she taps her foot and looks at me as if I’m supposed to say something. I don’t know what she wants, so I continue staring out the window instead. Miles is there, and I love looking at him from afar. Sometimes I wish I could just leave my body where it was and fly out into the world without her ever noticing.

  “What are you looking at?” my mother says. “That boy again?”

  I nod, still a little absent in my mind.

  “Stop. This is the last time you’ll ever speak or even think about him again.” Her pointy nail tilts my head, forcing me to look at her. “You will focus all your attention on Phillip and his parents. They deserve it. That boy out there? He doesn’t …” She leans in. “And if I find out that you’re hanging out with him, I’ll come and get rid of him myself. Is that understood?”

  The implications in her statement make me shiver.

  “Yes, Mother,” I say, tears welling up in my eyes.

  Her nail scratches me as she lets go of my chin. “Good girl. I promise you that it’ll all be worth it.” She smiles, a light, high-noted chuckle coming from her mouth. “Soon, you’ll forget all about that filth. Phillip and his family have so much more to offer. Did you know that his father owns a directing company? And he’s going to give it all to Phillip when the boy is twenty. Can you imagine the kind of wealth he’ll have?”

  She bends over and places a hand on my shoulder. “It could all be yours. So behave like a real lady and make that boy feel like he needs you more than anything else in this world. Make him believe you’re God’s gift to man … just like I did when I met your father.”

  She licks her lips. “You’ll see … eventually, all your dreams will come true. All good things come to those who wait.”

  I nod, believing what she says to be true. I know my mother, and I don’t want to see Miles get hurt. I guess it’s for my own good … as well as his. Any price is worth it when it comes to dreams.

  But she’s not talking about my dreams. They are hers.

  ***

  Present

  I should’ve known Miles … Phoenix would come to hate me for pulling away. It was in both our interests, but it broke my heart. I reckon it destroyed his confidence. I never told him why I did what I did. Why he wasn’t allowed at the party. Why my parents hated him. Why I couldn’t be with him, despite what my heart was telling me.

  It was for the best, even though listening to my mother turned me into a conniving bitch. I did what I had to do to survive. To save him and myself.

  Too bad he didn’t see it that way.

  And now I must pay the price.

  CHAPTER 13

  PHOENIX

  With eyes filled with tears, she gazes up at me from her prison, the agonizing look on her face a delicious treat.

  “Tell me that she’s okay,” she says. “You have what you want now.”

  I don’t believe her fakery. Her interest in her assistant is so unbelievable that it makes me want to laugh out loud. She doesn’t care whether the girl lives. She never cares for anyone but herself.

  At least, that’s what I remember. Vanessa Starr always chooses what’s right for her instead of anyone else, even if it means hurting others. She and her whole family … they only cared about money, about power.

  Except that none of them knows what real power is. Not if you have to acquire it by lying and manipulating. That’s not power. That’s a sneaky, snake-like way to worm your way into wealth. It won’t provide you with real power once the hunters come to catch you and put you in a cage, so you can never hurt anyone again. You know who has the real power? The hunter.

  Me.

  “You want me to tell you? Guess what? No,” I say, rubbing the gauge in my ear.

  She frowns. “I hate you.”

  “Good. Let’s keep it that way,” I say, smiling.

  “You know; I never wanted to hate you, but you’ve actually accomplished that now. Good job,” she sneers.

  “I’m better when I’m bad, sweet cheeks. It’s what makes me me.” I grab a cigarette from my pocket and light it up. “You don’t mind if I smoke in here, do you?”

  She makes a face but doesn’t respond. Bitch.

  It didn’t always used to be this way. There was once a time when I believed that she liked me. Hell, I even thought she was into me, in more ways than one. Fuck, what an idiot I was, believing a woman like her.

  “You’ll never get away with this,” Vanessa says, still jerking on the bars as if they will loosen. They won’t budge; I’ve tested them myself quite thoroughly.

  “Just you watch.” I take a much-needed drag.

  “Once they realize that Paige has gone missing, her family will come looking for her,” she says. “And they’ll direct the police to my house first.”

  I chuckle and walk toward her cage while taking a drag. She doesn’t back away this time, holding onto the bars as if she thinks she can win this. She doesn’t seem to realize that she already lost the moment she betrayed me.

  “Do you honestly think she has family? Have you ever even asked?”

  “Well …” she swallows. “Who doesn’t?”

  I smile. “She doesn’t have anyone but herself. And now she has no one.”

  I love the look on her face, those big eyes, the utter shock. I blow the smoke out in Vanessa’s face, causing her to cough.

  Vanessa doesn’t need to know the girl is still alive, albeit stuffed into a closet like a wrapped-up doll. The only reason I didn’t kill the girl was because Vanessa promised to do everything I wanted without protest. It makes it that much easier to exact my revenge. That and maybe I took a pity on the girl. Or not. I’m just a man of my word. Honor means a lot to me, which is also the reason I could fuck Vanessa into oblivion because she has none.

  Honor means shit to her, so she means shit to me.

  Just like everyone else in this world.

  Nothing gets to me. Nothing.

  I don’t allow anyone to come close, and I don’t allow myself to feel whatever it is she’s trying to make me feel with those crocodile tears. I’m emotionless. A killer with no remorse.

  And it’s all because of her.

  Women … they’re only good for breaking.

  I throw the cigarette on the floor and stomp it out.

  “So … are you comfy in there?” I ask to tease her.

  “Fine,” she replies. Short and snappy, just the way I like it.

  �
�You don’t seem fine.”

  “Yeah, well, that’s what happens when a stalker locks you up and kills your lovers.”

  “Who said anything about killing both of them? I don’t know what happened to Arthur.”

  “And you don’t give two shits to go find out,” she adds.

  “Indeed.” I wink. “I have my hands full right now, sorry.”

  “With teasing and using me. Wow, so busy.” She does a fake yawn and continues to stare at me. “Tell me … do you enjoy killing people?”

  “Actually, yes, I do.” I smile.

  “Funny, because I don’t remember you that way.”

  “Then you remember wrong,” I say, tapping on the cage to annoy her. “I’ve always been a violent fuck.”

  “That I do remember.”

  I look down into her cage. “That’s what you get for hanging out with people like you.”

  Out of nowhere, she bangs on the cage. “It’s your own fault for becoming a murderer. Not mine.”

  “Oh, yeah? Last I checked, I wasn’t the only murderer in this house.”

  “Don’t you dare blame it all on me again.”

  I narrow my eyes, grabbing the bars tight as I look her deep in the eyes. “You know it’s the fucking truth. You’re a killer just as I am. You might not look it, but you’re certainly rotten in the core.” I point at my chest for emphasis. “Just like a bad apple.”

  “Why did they have to be killed? Why?”

  “Who? Your lovers?” I say, laughing a bit. “As if you didn’t want them dead,” I growl. “Don’t. Lie. To. Me.”

  “Was it all for the money?”

  “Phillip’s kill was, although you probably won’t believe me,” I say, as I start pacing around the room, wondering what I’m going to do next now that I have her. The possibilities are infinite; my creativity, however, is not.

  “What about Arthur?”

  “He was in the way. He was out of luck.”

  I sit down on a chair in the corner and look at her fall apart. I love this conversation. It brings her closer to insanity with each sentence I speak.