Stalkers: A Dark Romance Anthology

by Ally Vance

  I sit back and look at the destruction I’ve wreaked with a sense of detachment. I knew I had to do something, but I never would’ve thought I could do something like this. I don’t even remember dragging Mom’s boyfriend from the house and into the garden. I watch the blood seep into the solid earth, staining it red, as the two dead bodies in front of me grow stiff with rigor. Staring down at my bloody hands, a strange feeling sweeps through me, accompanied by a startling realization...I enjoyed it.

  It’s been three months since I killed my mom and her piece of shit boyfriend, and I’ve never felt so at peace in this house, not since my dad left anyway. Even working in my garden never fully took the edge off.

  Looking over the freshly laid patio with the newly painted birdbath, I smile at my handiwork. Dad would’ve been proud of how it looks. I worked until my muscles were screaming and my skin was streaked with sweat and dirt, but I finished it. Buried deep beneath the earth I’m standing on, now covered in neat paving slabs, no one will ever discover what I did.

  If my dad hadn’t transferred my inheritance over and had Mom draw up a will before he left, I’d be worried about how I’m now going to pay the bills. A little digging unearthed the deeds to the house and the completed payments of the mortgage. Without anyone to contest it, everything is mine. I just have to keep up the facade a little longer and pretend everything is okay.

  School might be a problem, but if I keep my head down, focus, and don’t get into any trouble, there’ll be no need for them to ever try and get in touch with my mom. Letters I can deal with, phone calls I can field, but if they ever decide they want a face-to-face meeting, then I’m fucked.

  It’s difficult staying focused, keeping the itch I long to scratch hidden beneath layers and layers of carefully crafted lies and deceit. The more I try to smother it, the more it seems to want to burst free. Like a flower desperately reaching for the sun, the petals strain to open, and absorb the light it so fiercely craves. This side of me is clawing at the walls, and my fingers want to sink into flesh like they do the earth, to bring forth the seeds and blossom into something brutal.

  I want that feeling back, that euphoria, and the pulsing rush of my blood flowing through my veins. I want to sow my own seeds with crimson lifeblood and create my own garden of flowers in this slice of earth I call my own. Rose was just the start, but with her body entombed beneath the patio, her flowers will never grow here.

  Chapter One

  Zach

  The gurgling cries from Heather as she desperately tries to break free from my vice like grip on the back of her head makes me smile, and it rouses something more, which I ignore for now. Nothing gives me quite the same kind of thrill as murder, not gardening or even sex, although both provide a temporary relief for the need that constantly plagues me. I keep my hand on her head long after her limbs stop flailing and the bubbles have ceased...just to make sure.

  When I’m certain she’s dead, I haul her lifeless body out of the water and drag it into the garage where my dad’s old truck sits. I’m not sure why he never took it when he left, but it’s mine now, so fuck him. Peeling back the tarp that covers the bed, I pick Heather up and sling her in the back. Flowers won’t grow underneath the heavy concrete slabs, so she won’t be buried beneath the patio… I’ll plant her ashes in my garden.

  After it gets dark, I head out to the garage, and sliding my phone out of my pocket, I shoot off a quick text to the only other person I trust. He has his own demons, and his own secrets which plague him. I don’t ask questions and neither does he, but we both know the truth. I leave the girls behind, and he takes care of them, letting me know when I can come and collect the ashes. We have a fucked up agreement of silence between us, and it works. We both have our quirks, and murder happens to be one of mine.

  I’m not waiting long before he replies to let me know he’s on his way, and after securing the tarp in place, I hop in the truck and drive to meet him. The crematorium he works at is ten miles out of town, and it takes me a good twenty minutes to get there.

  His car is already parked outside when I pull up in the truck. My headlights illuminate his figure leaning casually against the hood of his car, and the thin trickle of smoke from his cigarette floats up into the darkness. Killing the engine and the lights, the only illumination is the tiny red glow as he takes a drag.

  Opening the door of the truck, the internal light flickers on, and I leave the door open after climbing out. “Hey, Kit.”

  “Hey, Z,” he says on an exhale, blowing out more smoke.

  “You ready? She’s in the back.”

  His lips quirk up into a smile, and I suppress the images of what he plans to do, no doubt, once I’ve delivered the body to him. Dust and ashes are the easiest way to destroy the evidence of what I’ve done. I leave the method to him. This is clean, and doesn’t cause me any problems. He provides the incinerator, and I provide the fuel.

  Kit is a good friend, and I trust him as much as I can possibly trust another person. We’re two monsters bound together by our demons and each other's darkest secrets… it’s what brought us together all those years ago. On the odd occasion he’s been unavailable because he’s out of town, he’s left me the key to get in and step-by-step instructions, but this is his territory, not mine. Besides, if he handles my victims too, then he can’t be tempted to talk. He knows if he does, good friend or not, then nothing will stop me taking him down as an accessory to my crimes.

  Kit kept me somewhat sane through high school—our shared interest in death brought us together. With both of us being more alternative in style and tastes, we were pretty much the outcasts among our classmates, and we formed an unusual bond that's lasted for years. When we left high school, Kit went to college for his degree and became a mortician—I stayed here and fell into a pit lined with petals and blood that I've yet to claw my way out of.

  Heading round the truck to the back, he follows closely behind me, and when I peel back the tarp to reveal Heather’s lifeless form, I hear his sharp intake of breath. I like my flowers pretty, and I know he likes them that way too. Once or twice, I’ve found less than perfect flowers, but they’ve suited my needs well enough to briefly satisfy my urges. High risk targets raise questions, and I have no desire to be locked up for my particular activities. Heather is one of the prettiest ones I’ve plucked from this destitute earth we live on, and I can see that Kit appreciates her too.

  I look away as he strokes the hair from her face, the strands clinging to her pale skin. We each grab hold of her—Kit slides his hands beneath her armpits, and I take her by the legs, and we carefully lift her out of the truck. The side door to the room with the furnace is already open, and I let him lead me inside where a cold metal table sits waiting and ready for Heather’s body.

  Dead weight is heavy, but between the two of us we easily place her on the slab, and after quickly giving Kit a friendly slap on the shoulder, I hastily make my way to the exit without looking back. I’ve barely closed the door when I hear the sound of metal and material against concrete as his jeans and belt hit the floor.

  I hastily make my way back to my truck before any more noises can reach my ears. I slam the driver’s side door shut and switch on the engine, smiling as the familiar rumble fills my ears. Reversing out of the driveway and back onto the main road, I head home to take care of the only other urges that matter after a kill. Tomorrow I’ll be able to collect Heather’s remains, and then my newest flower will be planted in my garden.

  Chapter Two

  Zach

  Needing to collect a special order of seeds, bulbs, and small plants that I placed at the nursery in the next town, I decide to kill two birds with one stone and grab some groceries while I’m there. I’m unfamiliar with the layout of this particular store, although it’s owned by the same company as my local branch. Why can’t they lay them all out the same way and keep things simple?

  I’ve been wandering around for much longer than I care to spend in a shop, looking
for a few items. I’m almost ready to give up and go without when I enter the next aisle and notice a young woman reaching for a high shelf. She glances up and with her concentration broken overbalances, knocking into me as she falls and lands on her ass with an, “Oomph!”

  The collision causes me to let go of the cart, which rolls a few feet away. I whirl around, prepared to yell at the foolish woman who was stupid enough to try and reach something she’s clearly not tall enough to grab. However, when she looks up from scrambling to pick up the contents of her purse and the basket lying on its side next to her, I’m too stunned by her delicately beautiful features to speak at first.

  “I’m so sorry. I’m fairly new to town and this is my first time here. I wasn’t sure where the sales assistant was and thought I could reach it myself. I didn’t mean to bump into you like that.” She blushes, clearly embarrassed.

  “It’s okay. Let me help you.” I crouch down, and grabbing hold of her arm, I haul her to her feet.

  I take over collecting together her items, and when I pick up her ID card, I scan the front of it, taking in her pretty face and the details written on the front. I do a double take when I see her name: Violet Blackthorn. I quickly memorize her address, repeating it over and over in my head. I need to get to know you, pretty girl, and you’ve just welcomed me in.

  I hand over the card and the last few items, and she shoves them into her purse with a shyly mumbled, “Thanks.” The blush still stains her cheeks the color of cherry blossoms in spring: pale, pink...perfect.

  “You’re welcome,” I reply, my voice huskier than I’d like, and her blush deepens.

  When her lovely eyes meet mine again, a hunger stirs deep within me, and a craving more fierce than I’ve ever encountered before is awakened. In the brief moment when our eyes first met, I knew I had to have her. I want her, I need her, and when I’m done with her, I’m going to see how prettily she bleeds for me.

  Violet walks away, and I stand there silently, staring after her in a trance. Fate has brought us together, only she doesn’t know it yet...but she will soon enough. Violets like to grow in the shade, but I want to see how she fares when faced with my darkness. I’m coming for you, sweet Violet, and then we’ll see how shy you really are.

  She’s not going to be like any of my other flowers—someone might miss her if I simply snatch her right now. I’ll have to be patient. It will take time for me to carefully cultivate a connection between us, and then, when she’s ready, I’ll pluck her from her life and take her for myself.

  I need her to trust me, but first, I must learn everything there is to know about her, and she’s given me the tools required to do just that. I smile as I make my way back to my abandoned cart. Pulling out my phone, I quickly create a note, tapping in her address and saving it. How better to get to know someone, than to see exactly where they come from and observe for myself what makes them tick. With this information, I’ll be able to lay the groundwork to entwine her life with mine.

  Chapter Three

  Zach

  I’ve never done this before, but the rush of adrenaline flowing through me is a familiar sensation, and it’s one I revel in. I’m standing in Violet’s kitchen in the middle of the night, shrouded in darkness while my demons whisper in my ear. It wasn’t difficult to break in through the back door—the silly girl hadn’t locked it, probably assuming no one would find her or her house interesting enough to break into.

  It would be so easy to kill her right now, but I want to possess her first. This is new for me. Before her, it was only ever about the kill, but something about Violet begs for me to own her. I want to pull her pretty petals off and see how she truly looks when she’s naked, stripped bare of everything that protects her.

  I wander through her house, using the light on my phone to guide me, taking my time to look through her things while being careful not to make any noise. The predator inside of me is salivating at the scent of her—it fills every inch of this ridiculously tiny house.

  It doesn’t take a genius to realize how solitary she is. The decor is simple and feminine, and the lack of accommodation for any kind of company tells me she doesn’t have many people in her life. Violet is more perfect than I could have anticipated, but I can’t be hasty when it comes to her. She has to pay her bills somehow, and if I’m to truly make her mine, like I intend, then I need to make a plan.

  Spotting a closed laptop on a tidy desk, I make my way over to it and open it. I expect it to be password protected and am proved correct. I shut it with a disgruntled sigh and inspect her desk more closely. There’s a diary containing a work schedule and a few Post-Its with short, handwritten notes on them that I flick through. They consist of standard every day stuff, listing things to do and a few reminders that probably relate to her work…and then I find something which sends a wicked smile spreading across my face. I pause and stare at the slip of paper with a link to a social chatroom website written on it and a username scrawled beneath it that must be hers.

  I set the diary back down on her desk, pull out her chair, and take a seat. It only takes me a few minutes to download the same app on my phone and set up an account. Her privacy settings are locked, so the only thing I can view is her photo and username, but I don’t need anything more than that. I type out a quick message to her and hit ‘send’.

  She won’t get it until she wakes up, but I’m hoping she’ll respond. I can be patient when I need to be, and I can already tell she’ll be worth the wait. After making sure my phone is still on silent, I tuck it back in my pocket and make my way slowly out of the living room. The hallway is dark, barely lit by the streetlamp outside, but there’s enough illumination for me to make my way to the stairway without issue.

  I see her purse hanging on a hook near the front door beside her coat, and there’s a small hallway cabinet stands next to it. Quietly, I pry open the drawer of the cabinet and I see a notepad, pen, and six keys on a ring. Pulling out the keys while making sure not to let them jangle, I walk over to Violet’s front door and test each one until I find the correct one. Carefully, I slide it off the loop and pocket it, before replacing the rest of keys where I found them and shutting the drawer.

  Slowly, I turn and look up the dark stairway, and take a deep breath before ascending, taking care to test each step for creaks before I put my weight on them. If Violet wakes up and finds me here, then this will have all been for nothing, and my plans will be ruined before they’ve had time to bear any fruit.

  The back of my neck is hot, and my breaths are deep and controlled. I mustn’t lose my composure, but my pretty flower is so close now. Her mouthwatering lavender and honeysuckle scent is heavier up here, but it’s not overpowering, it only entices me further. Inhaling, I draw it in and hold my breath until my lungs are burning before slowly exhaling.

  It’s darker up here, there’s no filtering light from outside to guide my way forward, so I withdraw my phone from my pocket and turn the torch onto its lowest setting before proceeding. The first door I look behind yields only a bathroom, but curiosity sends me wandering inside. The medicine cabinet carries the bare minimum: painkillers, band aids, spare toothbrushes, and other little necessities. There’s very little of interest, although I pop the lids of her shampoo and body wash to have a smell of what scents she likes to bathe in. Finding nothing more to look at beyond a small cabinet that contains feminine products and more bathroom essentials, I leave the bathroom.

  I’ve saved the best for last, and finally I’m standing in front of Violet’s closed bedroom door. Swallowing the nervous lump that forms in my throat, I turn off my phone torch, grasp the handle, and push the door open. A wave of Violet’s floral scent hits me full in the face and the rush is almost dizzying. I hold my breath to clear my head, and the heavy thump of my heart seems irritatingly loud in the quiet darkness.

  Soft, even breaths reach my ears, and my hands itch to touch the woman sleeping in a state of peaceful bliss, unknowing of what kind of monster is lurking i
n the darkness mere feet away from her. Need brings me forward, and I inch closer to her until I can feel a stirring of the air and catch a faint whiff of peppermint toothpaste. She’s so close now—I’m sure if I were to reach out in front of me, my hands would caress her sleeping form.

  I shakily exhale as I clench and unclench my hands at my sides. I so badly want to touch her. The thrill of being so close while she’s completely unaware of my presence sends a pulse of adrenaline and desire surging through me. My entire body stiffens when she murmurs in her sleep, and the sound of bedding moving as she shifts smothers my sharply exhaled breath. I can feel her, the heat pouring off her skin as it radiates toward me. My blood is burning, my hands are shaking, and every part of me is fighting to control the fierce ache in my cock.

  Licking my lips, I move forward until my knees lightly hit the edge of her bed. I extend out my hand and lower it gently until my fingers brush against a soft blanket. Heart racing, I trace the outline of her body in the dark, moving along the bed with my fingers caressing her gentle curves over the top of the bedcover. I want so much to rip it off her and touch her properly, but it would be too risky.

  Warm skin connects with my fingertips, and I suck in a breath before my hands continue to travel upward. Violet shivers in her sleep, probably sensing my feather-light touch. I stroke along her skin, which is as silky as the petals of a freshly bloomed flower. Hair tickles the back of my hand, and I run my fingers through her soft locks until I brush against her jaw line. When her lips part at my touch and she breathes out against my skin, I can barely suppress my groan.