The Stalker
Follow You - Bring Me The Horizon
Ipush the feelings I have of almost getting caught, out of the way.
That's a conversation for another day, and I know she is going to fucking hate me when she knows the truth. Unfortunately for her, she’s already mine.
If she tries to run, I will fucking chase her.
If she tries to hide, I will fucking find her.
If she tries to get away, I will fucking trap her. It’s too late for her to escape me.
Zane and I rush out of the store, looking for any sign of where Parker could have gone. A car zooming way too fast in a pedestrian zone catches our attention. As if my blood isn’t already boiling, I then realize what car the reckless driver is in, and I swear steam just shot out of my ears.
We quickly get to my car and hop in, not wasting a second that could be used to chase after him. I make my way to the main street onto which I just saw him swerve. Zane is in the passenger seat, pulling his laptop out. He brings it everywhere with him, and in this instance, I’m glad he does.
“Where the fuck am I going, Zane?” I ask eagerly. He types on his keyboard at a speed I’ve never seen his fingers go.
“Keep going straight. I know he’s traveling down the main street.
We would know if he made a turn,” he responds.
I press on the gas, flying through any red lights we come up on.
Horns all around go off in my direction.
I roll down my window, holding my middle finger up to everyone.
Nothing and no one will stop me from getting to the fucker that decided to lay his hands on my girl, not even the law.
“I still see him heading down the main street. So, just keep going. I’m trying to hack into the cameras ahead to make sure we don’t miss it if he exits,” he explains, still typing and clicking.
I swerve in and out between traffic, our bodies swaying uncontrollably with the inertia.
A light ahead turns yellow, and I know I’m going to need another way around.
“Red light, tell me where to turn, Zane,” I demand.
“Turn right. Less traffic. Looks like he's curving west, anyway. You can shortcut it if you stay here until you hit Lincoln Street. Then turn left.” He signals right as I’m quickly approaching the turn.
I shift gears, ready to do whatever I need to in order to turn.
I see him holding on to the door handle as we veer right.
The scent of burnt rubber surrounds us as the sound of screeching tires fills the air.
I turn the wheel as hard as I can, and we lift off the ground ever so slightly. A car to my left brakes hard as I take up two lanes with my fast and furious stunt. His horn blares at us, but I keep going. Anyone can fucking hate me, it’s a feeling I’m used to.
“I think he stopped at his house?” Zane says, but it’s more of a question.
“What do you mean?” I snap. Needing him to just explain rather than speculate.
“He stopped. And it's in a suburban neighborhood.” He points to his screen, and I can see the car parked in front of a fancy estate. What a fucking idiot if he did. Now we know where he lives and where to find him. I’m sure this is where the cops are going to look first, too.
“Turn here, go up until you reach Morrison; he lives in the Meadow Hills Estates,” he directs.
I turn onto Lincoln, glad there isn’t as much traffic on the back streets.
My arms shake with my white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel.
The anticipation of beating this motherfucker has me ready to jump out of this car already.
We approach the neighborhood, and Zane signals to a home at the end of a dead-end street. The homes are spaced a few acres apart. Which is good news for us, the neighbors may not hear his fucking screams for mercy. I pull into his driveway, and we both jump out.
“In the trunk,” I tell him, slamming my door shut. I press the button on my key fob, and the trunk lid pops open. A large duffel bag sits alone in the spacious compartment. He reaches in, unzips it, then gives me a raised look.
“So, you just keep a bag full of murder equipment with you at all times?” he asks, judging me.
“Look, it’s coming in handy, isn’t it?” I question back, grabbing the bag and shutting the trunk. He shakes his head like I’m crazy. Maybe I am fucking crazy.
I nod to the large white camera pointing in our direction. Looks like Parker has a few surveillances of all angles to his house. Zane gives me a wave of his hand, dismissing their presence like he isn’t worried one bit about them. I’m sure he will wipe them clean afterwards.
We approach the door, careful not to let him hear us. I press on the doorhandle with ease, giving Zane a quick glance before creaking it open. We wait a moment, listening for Parker before entering. The sound of rummaging from the floor above catches our attention.
Looks like we’re headed upstairs.
We look around the wide-open space, taking in the obnoxious high-end decor. Seems pretty useless for a single man. A soon to be dead, single man.
We tread lightly through the long, stretched hall until we meet the stairs. Slowly and quietly, we head up them. I reach into the duffel, grabbing rope, and hand it to Zane. He grabs it, already knowing what it’s for.
“You stand on the other side of the door and wait,” I instruct him as we stop by the door with the loud sounds drifting through the barrier.
I can hear Parker on the other side, murmuring to himself.
I wait for the right moment to barge in.
There’s a brief stretch of silence before I swing the door open.
He whips around and I’m fast on him. I tackle him to the floor, Zane coming in behind me. I pin him down, knowing I’m overpowering him by a lot. He's half mine and Zane's size. It’s an unfair fight, really, but who am I to be fair when he wasn't towards my Little Flower.
“What the fuck, who are you?!” he shouts, squirming beneath my weight. I punch him square in the jaw, reminding him of the no mercy I'm willing to show. His legs are quickly bound. Zane then helps me pin his arms behind him, tying them together too.
“Your worst fucking nightmare,” I grit from behind.
The way I want to strangle him right here and now has my hands clenching with need.
I grab him by the hair, straining his neck backward.
Zane grabs duct tape from the duffle and slaps a hefty strip over Parker’s mouth.
He puts another and another, making sure he can’t get free.
Parker struggles against the restraints. His skin flushed red with anger.
Fucking pathetic, piece of shit.
“Grab his legs. I’ll grab his upper half,” I command Zane. He lifts Parker by the ankles, fighting the force of his wiggling legs. My hands grab him under his arms, and Zane lifts his legs off the ground. Incoherent mumbling comes from under the tape, but falls on deaf ears.
We drag him down the stairs, making sure he feels the scrape of every step on his back on the way down. We plop him down on the floor before exiting his house. I poke my head out, making sure the coast is clear. No people are around, making this all too easy.
I grab him again, and we take him to my car. I push the button on my keys again, opening his entrapment. His eyes go wide, and he does everything he can to try to squirm his way free, but finds himself unlucky. Oh, I’ll make sure he doesn't escape. He can try all he wants.
We swing him into the dark trunk, and he groans at the impact of his weight hitting the hard surface. Zane hunches over, putting his hands on his knees, being overly dramatic by breathing hard. I roll my eyes.
“I have something special planned for you, fucker” I spit at Parker before slamming the chamber shut. He should have recognized me by now.
“What are we going to do?” Zane asks curiously. I didn’t have a plan before, actually. Capturing him was all that had lingered in my thoughts, but then a sinister idea skipped across my mind, wearing the sweet disguise of innocence. I look at him and grin.
“We’re going to take him back to my place, and that's all you’re going to do,” I say vaguely, poking him in the chest. He rubs the spot, giving me a pout.
“Ouch. Okay, Grumpy. You sure you don’t need my help with whatever else you're going to do?” He looks at me with uncertainty, but he knows I can handle this on my own.
“I’m sure,” I say, annoyed. We both get back into my car and head back to my place. Zane takes his computer out again, clicking on some buttons, and Parker's surveillance cameras come onto the screen. He clicks a few more times and shuts his laptop.
“It’s like we were never here,” he chirps proudly.
As much as I hate to admit it, I’m glad I have him as a friend.
With all the hacking he knows how to do, I'm sure he’d make my life a living hell in an instant.
Not that I couldn't return the favor in my own way.
I look over at him, angry at the thought that he could ever betray me.
Parking in my garage, I close the door and pop the trunk open once more. By the way his wrists and ankles are rubbed raw, I can tell he was trying to get free. A wicked ear-to-ear smile spreads across my face.
“Hello? Dr. Evil? Can we get this over with? You’re creeping me out,” Zane insists.
I reach in and grab the fucker by the neck.
We pull him out and carry him down to my basement.
You fucked with the wrong girl, pervert.
You’re going to scream and beg for mercy that will never fucking come.
And the person who's going to help me with it, is going to watch the life drain from your pathetic, ugly, disgraceful eyes.
Iron and copper musk the air with odor. It’s only been a handful of days since the events of Zane’s surprise gift of Flynn. I’m just glad Zane picked up the mess. I mean, he didn’t have a choice, but still. He knows I always get what I want, so why make it difficult?
A chair scrapes across the concrete floor and is placed in the center of the room. A wave of déjà vu makes the blood pump through my veins with excitement. This time, he is mine for the kill. This one fucking matters.
I drag Dahlia’s perverted boss by his hair, and he screams in pain. I lift him over my shoulder, then sit him on the chair. His head whips back with the motion. He tries to stand, not ready to accept his fate. I push him back down.
“Nu uh. You're not going anywhere. You haven't paid for your sins yet,” I spit at him. Rope circles his abdomen as Zane binds him to the chair. He winces as his body crushes his arms against the hardwood behind him. Once he’s secured, we do the same to his feet. Binding them to the legs of the chair.
I stand back and stare with a sinister smile.
Parker breathes harshly, out of breath from the constant fighting.
Fucking dumbass. It’ll only tire him out, making things all too easy for me.
I would've thought he would put up a better fight, but it looks like he’s able to only force himself upon innocent women. My innocent woman.
I chain the chair to a piece of metal I have anchored in the concrete below. He’s not going anywhere. I make sure that if he tries to tip the chair over, it wouldn't be to his advantage. I twist my neck, cracking it left and right.
“You can leave,” I tell Zane.
“Call me if you need anything,” he says gladly. Not having to deal with the mess this time. I can feel Parker’s intense stare, boring into me. I turn to him and pull out my pocketknife. My expression has him going blank. I hold the metal under his chin forcing him to look up at me.
“Youre going to fucking beg. No. You're going to plea for your fucking life. Not to me. Not to him. Not to god. But to the one angel you fucking broke.”