A Very Stalker Christmas

Chapter 1

Logan

I press the binoculars to my face, honing in on the pet carrier in Emma’s hand. I try to see what’s inside. Is it a dog? A rat? A raccoon? I’ve learned long ago not to make assumptions, since she’ll take in any stray animal that so much as hisses at her.

Last month, she brought in a fox she found trapped in a dumpster. The animal turned out to be rabid and had to be put down. She cried for a week, but now she’s back at it, happily scooping up feral and abandoned animals like the do-gooder she is.

I really hope this one isn’t sick. I hate it when she cries.

When she puts the carrier down on her porch to get her door keys, I finally get a good look. It’s a cat, and it’s wearing a collar. That means it won’t stay long, since Emma will scour all missing pet websites to find the owner. If she doesn’t find them, she’ll probably get the cat to the vet to see if it’s microchipped.

I breathe out in relief. The cat is most likely vaccinated.

A loud yowl comes in through the window that I cracked open to hear as soon as she parked in her driveway. Emma crouches by the carrier. Her curly brown hair falls into her eyes, and she pushes it away with an impatient gesture. She’s not wearing her warm woolen cap, even though I know for certain I left one in the passenger seat of her car so she wouldn’t miss it.

“It’s okay, baby,” she croons at the cat, her breath puffing out in a white cloud. “We’ll find your owner soon. You’re safe until then. I’ll take care of you.”

Not for the first time and certainly not the last, I wish I were a cat. I could wander into her life then, not worrying about having to speak or smile, and she would pet and caress me to my greedy heart’s content. Even just thinking about it makes my blood rush south, and my pants feel suddenly too tight. I grit my teeth and hold my breath, focusing on other things.

Like the last time I gassed up Emma’s car. I take a look at my notes to check when it was. Her tank should be at least half-full, but it won’t hurt to get her filled up tonight. I make a note on my to-do list and bring the binoculars back to my eyes.

She is inside now, letting the cat out in her kitchen. I watch everything through the pristine, uncovered window that I washed last night to have the best view possible.

Emma’s glasses have fogged up from the cold, and she takes them off, blinking to adjust. She looks around slowly, and I know she sees well enough without the glasses. Her vision is a problem only when she goes outside or has to drive.

I catch the exact moment when she notices the new candle I put on her table. She freezes for a moment, and then her mouth widens in a huge smile as she bounds over to examine it.

The candle is a big one with three wicks, and the golden lettering on the glass jar proclaims it smells like Christmas Magic . I picked it specifically to push Emma deeper into that lie she tells herself.

I come into her house every day without her knowledge or permission and do the chores around the place to keep it clean and safe. Emma, sweet and na?ve as she is, believes everything I do is the work of a very kind but shy person who wants to help her out of the purest motives.

If she knew the truth, she’d run for the hills.

Emma is not stupid. That’s not it. She’s simply so incapable of seeing the evil and darkness in the world, it hasn’t even crossed her mind that her creep of a neighbor might be breaking into her place every night to sniff her panties and fantasize about doing vile things to her while she sleeps.

I’ve watched my cute, single neighbor for over six months, ever since I moved in across the street. At first, it was innocent enough. I peeked through a crack in the curtains when she went out, admiring her curvy figure and beautiful smile.

Soon, I noticed how messy her house was, always filled with animals. Her chaotic nature was like the perfect irritant for me. I love order and keep my house always neat, so the perpetual mess at Emma’s place, aggravated by the animals she brings home, irked me to no end.

After a few months of merely watching, I couldn’t stand it. The first time I cleaned up her yard was three months ago. I raked up the fallen leaves, put her trash cans in order, and washed her car.

She didn’t notice, all of her attention split between her job at the town library, her volunteering at the cat shelter, and the two sick puppies she was nursing back to health at the time. That emboldened me, and soon, I took her car to fill it up and vacuum all the dog hair inside.

I hacked into her email and social media next to keep an eye on what she chatted with her friends about. She never mentioned the stuff I did for her, which made me even bolder. After I got tired of seeing the laundry spilling out of her hamper, I broke in the first time.

When she was at work, I did her laundry, loaded her dishwasher, watered her plants, washed her floors, and filled her fridge with fresh food. That finally got her attention.

I expected her to call the police, so I made sure to wear gloves and leave no signs of my presence behind. But Emma decided it must have been one of the homeless people she’d let stay over in the past. Someone grateful yet shy, who wanted to pay her back for showing them kindness.

She joked a fairy godmother was helping her out.

And when November turned into December, she started joking about how it’s elves. I leaned into that and began leaving her little gifts.

I allow myself a brief smile as she brings the candle to her nose with a happy sigh, closing her eyes with pleasure. My pretty neighbor believes in the innate goodness in people and the world. I know better, but I’m perfectly happy to reinforce her delusions since they give me such easy access to her home and life.

I know it’s messed up. I’m in her bedroom every night, yet we’ve never exchanged a word, even though I’ve lived here for six months. She’s not special in that. I don’t speak to anyone. I can’t.

Emma lights the candle and turns on the lights as dusk falls outside. It’s Saturday afternoon, and she’ll most likely stay in, cuddling with the new cat while she searches for its owner. I put the binoculars away and stretch, then check my to-do list once again. I’ve done most of my chores while she was out. I’m free for the next few hours, since I’ll only be able to visit her when she’s asleep.

I put on my jogging gear and warm up in the living room. Through my window, I can just see into Emma’s brightly lit kitchen, but she’s not in there now.

Feeling safe that I won’t meet anyone at this time, I leave the house, doing a few final stretches on the pavement. It’s perfectly cleared from snow, just like the pavement in front of Emma’s place. I took care of both today before dawn.

When I’m about to set out on my eight-mile run, Emma’s front door opens, and she rushes out, wearing just a thin sweater and her home slippers.

I stare as she jogs to her car, shivering. It’s twenty-three degrees out. Two inches of snow fell last night. I am absolutely appalled by her outfit, which is why I don’t hide in time. Emma gives me a big, cheerful wave.

Crap.

“Oh, hi!” she exclaims as if she isn’t freezing her tits off. “You so rarely go out, I was half-convinced you’re some kind of monk. It’s so nice to finally meet you! I’m Emma.”

My tongue freezes in my mouth as it always does when my face is bare and someone speaks to me. I swallow, knowing I won’t be able to say a word, and yet, I try to force my lips to form a response.

Everything would be so easy if I could just talk to her.

Hi, nice to meet you! I’m Logan. Would you like to grab dinner together?

That’s what a normal man would say to a woman he wants. But I’m not normal, so I take one last look at my beautiful neighbor, taking in her wide hips, gorgeous tits pushing through that thin sweater, and her thick, long hair piled on top of her head in a messy bun.

That hair would look so good wrapped around my hand. I want to tell her that, too, but of course, my tongue won’t cooperate.

Her smile shrinks when the silence between us stretches past comfortable. She looks uncertain, hugging herself as if she suddenly realizes how cold she is.

I turn away and jog down the street without so much as a nod.