A Predator and a Psychopath

by Jay Kerk

  Message from Dr-Anna45: “Hi. How are you today?”

  Then, “You told me you’re a hunter. What does that mean?”

  “Hi. Great. Following your instructions.”

  Dr-Anna45: “Great. Keep it up.” Forearm biceps.

  “Being a hunter means during the lunch breaks I go around to special places like supermarkets and restaurants, and people leave their name tags on. So I can easily track where they live and what they do for a living. But I’m no longer hunting.”

  Dr-Anna45: “That’s it? I thought you followed or attacked people.” Face with eyebrows up.

  “I also use the gaze. I imagine myself gathering a wave of energy that starts down in my gonads, goes up to my arms and shoulders, and then concentrates back down. Afterward, all the energy is ready for disposal from my waist to the target, and I can direct it at any woman I want. I just focus and unleash the wave.”

  Dr-Anna45: “And does it work? I mean, do you have a success rate?” Face with eyes looking up.

  “The gaze works, but no problem if it didn’t. Don’t think of it as a net that catches fish; instead imagine a special magnet specifically for catching the fertile, the hungry, and sometimes also the weak. The energy beam of the gaze is very similar to food, always present, but you eat only if you’re hungry.”

  Dr-Anna45: “Will the gaze work if it’s sent from a woman to a man?”

  “No, definitely not. I’m surprised by your questions.”

  Dr-Anna45: The faces with open eyes. “Why wouldn’t I ask about this? Don’t you think men and women are equal?”

  “I won’t answer.”

  Dr-Anna45: “WE ARE EQUAL. In IQ and emotional intelligence. And actually, in all aspects except muscle power. And if we train the same way or take hormones, women can develop strength equal to that of any man of any size.” Red, angry face.

  Calm down. Tell her what she wants to hear. Easier said than done.

  Dr-Anna45: “Answer. Don’t bail.” Three angry red faces.

  “Does what I say matter? Really? We have a history of at least seventy or eighty thousand years that prove men and women not equal.

  “And currently, over three-quarters of the world says so. The majority in leadership positions are men… I don’t want to argue about it.”

  Dr-Anna45: “…I’m disappointed in you.”

  Lie, man. Lie.

  “Don’t be, please. You always get me wrong. I mean that I don’t know. I treat them equally, but scientifically, you must educate me.”

  Yeah right. As if some scientific test and a following article would change my mind. If women were really equal then why hadn’t they changed the course of history? I didn’t want to argue with her, though. It surely wouldn’t lead anywhere.

  Dr-Anna45: “I see. We’ll discuss this later. I’m pissed off.”

  “No. Stay, please. I enrolled in community service, and I’m volunteering at a support group for families of drug addicts.”

  I didn’t tell her I had hunted in the addiction help centers for the last couple of years.

  Dr-Anna45: “Proud of you. Well done. Sorry, but I’m not in the mood to continue the conversation.”

  Should I tell her I met someone? Of course, I shouldn’t share that I was after the daughter.

  “I know how to get us in the mood. Some wine and jazz.” Winking face.

  Dr-Anna45: “Hehehehe. It’s not even 7 a.m. What else?”

  “I don’t know, strip poker? Or maybe smoke something funny? Skinny dipping? Depends on how wild you’re feeling.”

  Dr-Anna45: “I meant about NA.”

  “I liked someone in the meeting, and I want to start something normal and healthy. However, you know it’s difficult for me.”

  Dr-Anna45: “You can cross the barrier and ask her out, if she’s in recovery. Not early in the journey.”

  “I know that. I also have us to worry about. I feel we share something special. What about us? Can we meet?”

  Dr-Anna45: “There is no us.” Face with tears.

  CHAPTER 9:

  TURBULENCE

  Melanie volunteered to accompany another member to an awareness event conducted by a foundation in firms eager to educate their staff. The event included a presentation, testimonial about recovery, and a discussion. An unnecessary exposure and risk for me, but I went with her anyway.

  I hated being unprepared. Many people about whom I knew nothing about filled the room. The morning kickoff scared me as I transitioned from displeased to distressed. However, during the day, I noticed a beautiful woman. She stood out from among the hundred in the room. I longed for the times of warriors and emperors when you could point your finger, and the men would carry her to you.

  After the break, I changed places and sat behind her. I leaned forward to smell her; I registered her fruity scent. Hazelnut hair, bright brown eyes, slender body, no makeup, and no hair on her face or arms.

  She had tattoos between a few of her fingers, and watermelon-sized slices on her wrist and ankle. She wore a white dress covered in big yellow leaves, with opened buttons in front from the thigh down, and she tightened a belt of the same fabric at the thinnest area of her waist. When she bent forward to retrieve a small chocolate from her bag, I could see her bra through the sleeveless dress—black. I glimpsed the tip of a tattoo flashed ending at her armpit.

  I wanted to rip off her dress, send buttons flying. Her tears would pour, and afterward, I would kiss every tattoo, and end up having beautiful makeup sex. I smiled.

  She took out a lip balm, and I couldn’t wait. I had to masturbate, or else I’d jump on her. I hated to leave my place, and I had nothing I could use to store my sperm. I also panicked about spy cams in the bathroom, but I settled on relieving myself. I fantasized about asking her about her tattoos, how she would say they were her erogenous zones.

  I could dump Melanie in a second to seek the fabulous lady, but then I wouldn’t see Sylvie again. I compared the two women. Drugs have worn out my -decade older than me- girlfriend, and the thick makeup didn’t hide her hideousness. Uggghhh. Disgusting.

  I decided to stalk this lady soon. I eavesdropped to learn her name—Mona, like the painting. Name and work enough to find her home address. I would put a camera in her place and replicate this moment. I would do exactly as I imagined.

  I was so disgusted with Melanie that by lunchtime I was giving her the cold shoulder. Soon I would get rid of her, for good. I wanted her to disappear, so I buried my face in my phone. Anna was texting.

  Dr-Anna45: “How are you holding up?”

  “Great, on a personal level. And you?”

  Dr-Anna45: “Can’t complain. What other levels are there?” Lifted eyebrow face.

  “You!!!”

  Dr-Anna45: “??? Oh, come on. You know I can’t. I told you.” Frowning face.

  “It hurts. We’re this close and understand each other so well, and yet we’re apart and can’t meet.”

  Dr-Anna45: “I know, but you know I’m married. Can’t.” Hands over face emoji.

  “We can still meet.”

  Dr-Anna45: “Tough. Please forget it.” Gun to the head.

  “Anna, we can keep on talking. But I’m afraid of what my future will be.”

  Dr-Anna45: “What do you mean?”

  “You’ve got my heart, and I can’t build a normal relationship now. I’ll go back to doing my old stuff, and I can’t live with myself, so I’m doomed.”

  Dr-Anna45: “What?? Don’t say that. You’ll meet someone.”

  “I’ll kill myself if I slip into my addiction again, or fall in love with a young woman girl.”

  Dr-Anna45: “OHHH.”

  She was typing, but I continued. “We can meet as friends.”

  Maybe she’s afraid, or she can see through me. Push more.

  Dr-Anna45: “Let me think about it.”

  “Okay.” Kisses. “Don’t forget to send me a couple of photos when you can.”

  Yesss. Finally. I can’t wait to st
rangle the bitch.

  I decided to get rid of Melanie as soon as we reached home, although I was enjoying the pace with which I progressed with Sylvie. Things had to move faster because our talks, how we slept together, and her whole speech about being healed, sickened me.

  A few days ago, I bought a bag of heroin from one dealer who stood on the corner, Melanie said she used to buy from him. Once we got back to Melanie’s house from the workshop, I placed the bag next to a pasta carton in the food cabinet. She did not cook and rarely opened this cabinet, if she opened the cabinet and found drugs she shouldn’t be surprised. She might think she forgot the bag back in the days, or one of her friends kept it there. I hope.

  I wasn’t living there, but I kept the essentials if I slept over. Most of the time I left at midnight to go to my place, take care of my stuff, catch some shuteye in my basement, and return by dawn.

  “Mel, I’ll go pick up Sylvie. Can you boil some pasta? I’ll get the chicken on the way.” She nodded. I hope the bag will prove irresistible.

  She asked to drink some wine. I agreed but said we couldn’t get wasted because I planned a movie night with popcorn and games. “I’ll tell Sylvie she can hang out with us for the movie and games, but not dinner. Dinner is for two only, moi and toi. AAANND I brought a deck of cards for later.” We played strip poker, Twister... games to get me going with her, along with the pill.

  Most likely she wouldn’t be able to resist the temptation. Otherwise, I’d be stuck with her for a romantic evening. What if my plan fails? I can blame no one but myself. Too soon.

  “Bye, love.” Uggghh. Pick up Sylvie from soccer practice, stop for chicken and wine, and lastly, make the call.

  Sylvie got in the car, as usual, cheerful and full of life. She was sweaty but still smelled nice. I kept looking down at her thighs, her skin reddish from all the running.

  I had once heard her friend say I was “fit” and “a hot piece of ass.” Sylvie had blushed and said to her, “Shut up, bitch.”

  We’d become friends over the past two months. I’d bought her a tablet, topped up her phone balance, listened to her, and driven her around. The girl was lonely; no doubt she felt ashamed of her addict mom.

  She always looked away when I took my shirt off, so once I had asked her to hold my feet while I did crunches. Not that I needed any help, but I was dying to see her reaction. I told her couples kiss when the person doing the crunches reaches the top. She giggled, and I said, “But none for you, miss,” and her excitement disappeared.

  I teased her. I said things like she is too young to know or to understand, or experience is paramount, but I also exposed her to adult matters. I’d once left the door open while having sex with Mel, and I took my time, so Sylvie passed by and saw us. Our heads were at the bottom of the bed, and I could see the door but Mel couldn’t, and I caught Sylvie taking a peek.

  I resisted the urge to put cameras in her room, or to sneak into her bathroom while showering. I deserve an award for my restraint.

  One time, she’d heard Mel moaning like a pig, and afterward, when I went down for a cup of water, Sylvie had her head buried in her phone. I asked her, “Sylvie, are we friends? Real friends, close?”

  She said yes, and that I didn’t need to worry she had heard us. “But noise-canceling headphones can be sweet, and they would solve both our problems.” And I said she would have them in the morning.

  On the way back from soccer practice, I took my phone out to call, but I already had received a text from Mel. “Babe. I got this severe headache out of the blue, I’ll sleep it off. Kisses.”

  Amazing. She is high. Phase one accomplished.

  I acted sad and disappointed after I got the text, and Sylvie asked me what was wrong a couple times. I told her Mel had been acting funny, and her behavior worried me.

  Once we reached the house, Sylvie headed upstairs to take a shower, and I headed to the kitchen to set up the table. Candle in the middle, two wine glasses, the chicken heated, the pasta ready. I placed the deck of cards and Twister on the coffee table and sunk in the couch. And I waited.

  I heard her footsteps, always filled with energy. She wore a cotton t-shirt with jogging shorts, and her wet hair stained the t-shirt.

  She’d turned thirteen a few months before, and she was a brilliant lady. Took care of her duties and was fun to be around. Her breasts were small, still budding, exquisite like passion fruit. That night she didn’t wear a bra. Initially, she’d had one on whenever I visited, and if I came in and she wasn’t wearing one, she’d hold on to a cushion to hide her protruding nipples. Now she became more comfortable around me.

  She sat next to me on the couch with her heels up beneath her butt. I felt an electric current pass through me. I prayed her feet would cramp so I could massage them. I imagined ways I could get my hands on her without being too forward.

  “Where’s Mom? I thought you guys are dining alone. You know,” she said, turning her head away. She blushed, knowing that meant sex.

  “Well, she has a terrible headache. You know,” I said folding my hands. “Bad. Awful.” I shook my head.

  “What do you mean? Where is she?” Sylvie asked.

  “She’s upstairs. Fuck it. Listen, Sylvie, I want to treat you as a friend, and as a mature person. She’s back on drugs. I tried my best, I swear, I don’t know what happened. I’m so hurt that after all I’ve done for her, she slips back.”

  Sylvie gasped. “Oh, my god. That bitch. Sorry.” Such a polite girl. Tears fell. “That selfish bitch. I knew it wouldn’t last. I wish she’d died. Couldn’t she wait two years ‘til I left?”

  I drifted closer to her and put my arm around her. I kissed her head. Fuck, too fatherly, I shouldn’t have. “It’s not your fault, doll,” I said.

  She turned and looked at me, her eyes red. “You know, you look a lot like her, but younger and much more beautiful. She hasn’t taken care of herself.”

  Sylvie put her head on my shoulder, and I hugged her tight. I could have kissed her, but I didn’t. Not yet. We can do better.

  I moved back to my seat, and she eyed me weirdly. Fuck me. I’d ruined the moment. I said, “You wanted to move out. That’s interesting. Why not for a couple of years?”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “I’ll be old enough. Have a job, maybe.”

  “Let’s eat,” I said. “Come.”

  We went to the table, and she asked for wine. I refused and said she’d like it, and then she’d be drinking to get drunk, and she shouldn’t do that. I promised to let her taste it later.

  “I’m underdressed, and you look good.” She said and giggled.

  “No worries. I know I can do better.” She kicked my ass, and I ran after her but didn’t catch her. We ate in peace afterward.

  We talked about how a person should live up to their potential and not throw their lives away by being lazy or being restrained by social norms. We joked. We had inside jokes. I used to wink when Mel searched for a mysterious antiseptic. We both knew she was looking for a forgotten baggie.

  We moved to the couch, and I poured my third drink. I knew I shouldn’t get wasted because I must remain focused, but I wanted to celebrate getting the fuck away from Melanie.

  “I blame myself,” I said, “because I saw the signs, and I thought she was just having cravings. Cravings can be normal. Recently she was searching every corner for drugs.”

  Sylvie extended her legs on the couch.

  “Fuck her,” Sylvie said. “Sorry. Like, don’t worry about her. You deserve better.”

  “You know what? I’ll ask you something, but be honest. If I broke up with her, would we still be friends? Still talk like we do?” I asked.

  “Please don’t,” she said. “Please. Pretty please.” She looked at me weirdly, giving me what they call doe’s eyes. For me, it could be a doe, a squirrel, a cow... I don’t see a fucking difference.

  “I’ve waited a long time,” I said. “I feel like she failed me, but I also failed her in many ways.
And then there’s you... and… and she says hurtful things. And she jeopardizes my work in the group… and on top of all of that—never mind. You won’t understand.”

  “Such a great friend. Omg. Don’t make me angry,” she pointed a finger at me.

  “You don’t even know,” I said. Almost there.

  She grabbed her mobile and held it up like a knife. “Say it or else.”

  “You know. Sex. You’ve never done it, so you don’t know. Have you even gotten your period yet?”

  She turned red. Being a blonde, it showed more on her. She jumped on the couch. “You killed me. Oh, oh. To the heart.” She cleared her throat. “I’m proud to tell you, yes, I got it. And No, never has sex before.”

  “Oh. So it doesn’t matter if I tell you.”

  “Sam.” She stood, went behind the couch, and locked my head in her arms. I could feel her breath. “Say it.”

  “The sex,” I said. “It doesn’t happen much, and when it does, it’s terrible... I’m not a cheater, but damn, how fucked up is it to wait and then be rejected. I endure all that.... and jerk off a lot. I feel like I’m a teenager with her.”

  Sylvie broke into laughter.

  “Oh, man, this wine is great,” I said.

  “Let me taste it,” she said. “You promised.”

  “Come.” She sat next to me. “How can I make sure you won’t drink it all?”

  “I won’t. Cross my heart.”

  “No. I’ll hold it while you sip,” I said.

  We ended up with four hands on the glass, and we laughed during multiple attempts at getting the glass to her mouth. I tried to lean away, and she put her leg on mine. She sipped. Our eyes were close, they kept jumping down to the other’s lips and back up. I could have kissed her.

  Kiss her, you fool!

  Don’t be greedy!

  She’s the one!

  I cleared my throat and said, “Syl. Your turn to answer a tough one. Have you ever masturbated? You know, had an orgasm?”

  Her eyes were open. She pursed her lips. She took the cushion and yelled into it, jokingly. Then she said, “I tried, but it didn’t work!”

  “You know what I wish?” I said and looked away, dead serious. “That you were older. I’m just so unlucky.”