Prologue
PROLOGUE
A gust of scorching wind whipped down the narrow alley, applying another layer of West Texas dust to his sticky cheeks and neck. The stench of piss, sewage, and rotten food infiltrated his dry nose, but he paid it no attention. Those smells were more familiar to him than anything else in this world. But the dust—he dug his cracked nails into the back of his neck, scratching at the irritated surface—was annoying as hell.
Everything itched. His skin, his blood, his mind. This insistent urge to claw beneath his skin, to soothe whatever lay beneath, had been a part of him for as long as he could remember. The itch that irritated his very existence was one of his constant companions. Either from the relentless dry and dusty air, the need to remove the feel of another’s cruel touch, or the demand for a fix, he didn’t give a damn why. Only one thing mattered to him.
Revenge.
And soon, he’d have it. The game of cat and mouse grew boring years ago. Time to catch his prey and end it all.
Beneath jagged nails, bloodred lines marked his naturally fair skin with each frantic scrape to his wrist, dipping beneath the cuff of the faded dark sweatshirt to scratch his forearm. Scars of varying shapes and sizes stayed hidden beneath the long sleeves—not that anyone paid close enough attention to him for them to notice, even if exposed. The only scars he couldn’t conceal were the faint row of slim lines stacking along the column of his neck.
Those scars were his other constant companion, or rather the memories they invoked anytime he caught his reflection.
He rubbed one cracked lip against the other as he stalked from the shadows, waiting.
It ended tonight. She’d lived her lie of a life long enough. Now came the time for her to pay for ruining his. Soon she’d feel the same pain he endured, be lost in the darkness of hopelessness.
Crooked, black-spotted teeth showed as a sinister smile stretched across his face. Leaning back, he rested against the brick wall. He couldn’t wait to watch her pain, cause her torment. The one thing he was good at, what kept him alive and employed this long.
Removing a fresh joint and lighter from his baggy jeans, he sealed the twisted end of the paper between his lips and lit the opposite end.
He held the lungful of laced smoke, hoping whatever concoction Bradley put in this batch would kick in faster and calm his eager nerves. Desperate for oxygen, he slowly released the toxic smoke through pursed lips, watching as it quickly vanished into the late evening night sky.
The chatter and high-pitched laughter of a passing group of women had him tucking the joint behind him as he slunk deeper into the shadows. The five women passed the alleyway none the wiser of the evil and danger lurking within.
Again, he smiled and took another hit.
Maybe tonight, to celebrate, he’d find some junkie desperate enough to fuck him for a hit. There were always a few who knew his unique preferences and would answer his call. The thought grew in his now calm mind, the drug’s effects already kicking in. His hands casually hung by his side, no longer attempting to dig beneath his skin.
Relief. His lids drooped, the restaurant across the street he’d been watching for over three hours now only a sliver in his vision. Yes, tonight was the night. It was a long time coming for the cunt who ruined his life, but the minor hiccup in his plans ten years ago kept him from fulfilling his sinister ambitions.
Nothing stood in his way now.
A flash of light across the street diverted his attention from the glowing ember at the end of his joint and pulled his confusing thoughts back to the task at hand. The gray sidewalk brightened as the door swung open, chasing away the night’s darkness with glowing lights and filling the quiet with muted laughter and chatter pouring out from inside the restaurant.
Having done this stalking business many times before, he slunk deeper into the shadows but kept his eye on the figure that emerged from the downtown restaurant and stepped onto the empty sidewalk. Heat from the brick seeped through his sweatshirt where he sealed his knobby spine against it.
Even before the person turned, he knew who it was.
He clenched both hands into tight fists, the still-smoldering joint crushed between his fingers. His breaths came faster, the earlier calm brought on by the chemical additive gone.
Every Tuesday was the same, and tonight was no different.
Her long dark ponytail swept from side to side as she stepped toward the curb, her fingers slipping from the door’s edge. It slowly closed behind her. Jeans, a basic white T-shirt, and completely alone. This was her routine. The clothes, the timing, the lack of friends or company always the same since he began watching her after his release.
Relaxing his fists, his fingers twitched at his side, the desperation for more weed making his mind and nerves dance.
The rough brick snagged the threadbare cotton of his sweatshirt as he slid along the building. With each step he grew closer to her, his heart raced faster.
This was it. Maybe finally he’d have peace once the score evened, the imbalance in his life righted. It wouldn’t take away the nightmares, the memories, or change his future, but it would calm the beat of rage that tormented him since that day he’d learned how she ruined his life.
Tall, thick in the hips and shoulders, she wasn’t the weak addict he’d grown accustomed to ending, but he’d make do. He might have been scrawny as fuck, but he could hold his own.
From the corner of the building, he observed as she wandered down the sidewalk toward the late-model Ford Taurus he knew waited around the corner in the restaurant’s parking lot.
Now was his chance.
He stepped forward, half his body illuminated in the streetlamp’s glow, only for him to dash back around when the restaurant door swung open once again. He narrowed his eyes, frustrated at the intrusion. A man stepped out, hand in the air, calling her name.
A growl rumbled in his chest as he watched the man chase after her.
The woman paused and turned but didn’t rush away in fear. Instead, she stayed rooted directly beneath a soft glow of light.
He waited, cheek now resting along the brick as he watched their short exchange.
Then it happened.
Even with the shadows covering her face, her wide smile at something the interrupting fucker said was clear as fucking day.
A smile.
Indignation and hate boiled in his veins, making more sweat collect along his hairline and slip down his temples. He sneered, his broken and chipped nails clawing into the brick to hold him back from launching himself across the street and ending this shit out in the open.
Her irritating voice whipped down the street, her words too muffled for him to understand. He watched the two talk, the man stepping closer to her with casual, slow steps.
This would not do.
His molars ground together as he sawed his jaw back and forth.
Maybe….
An idea rolled around in his rapid-fire thoughts, building with each second the two spoke. The plan fully formed, he relaxed his fingers, the stiffness painful, and eased his shoulders away from his ears. Yes, this would teach her a fresh lesson.
An additional emotional torment and pain before the physical torture he would soon inflict. It had been a while since she felt loss. Time for a reminder of what happened to those she befriended or loved. The fact that the bitch hadn’t learned her lesson from the past spoke to her lack of intelligence.
The conversation between the two lasted only a couple minutes, but long enough to seal the fucker’s fate. With a raised hand, she disappeared around the corner. Seconds later, a familiar brown Ford Taurus eased out of the gravel parking lot onto the empty downtown streets.
With his original target gone, his stony gaze focused on the man still standing on the sidewalk. Hands shoved into the front pockets of his jeans, the man turned, finally facing his hiding spot. Anger flared at the amiable smile on his perfect fucking face.
The man tilted his face up to the night sky, that smile growing wider.
Fuck. That.
No one deserved happiness or love but rather horrors and darkness like his.
That drove his rage, his hatred for every person he encountered.
Was he born or made into this burning ball of hate, death, and evil? Fuck if he knew. But it didn’t matter. He dealt with it all the same.
As the man moved down the sidewalk, he followed, sticking to the shadows. This was his favorite part, stalking the prey. Their fate in his vile hands.
Ten feet ahead, a broken streetlamp cast a six-foot area in darkness.
Perfect.
Shifting from one shadow to the other, he weaved his way across the street, his prey none the wiser that a predator lingered hot on his heels. Just the way he liked it.
This man would endure his wrath for disrupting his plan. Maybe he’d draw it out, make him suffer for not only making the cunt smile but for postponing his ultimate plan. Yes, he’d use the man to practice what he envisioned with his blade, insuring each slice inflicted the most pain on her creamy flesh.
A thrill stirred in his gut, the anticipation rising with each new cruel thought. He’d have fun with this one, then leave the body for her, an omen of what would come.
Rae Chapin would die by his brutal hand soon.
Very soon.