Chapter 14
FOURTEEN
The Devil
Unhinged. Obsessive. Stalker.
Words others might use if they could see me. If they knew how I lurked in the shadows—watching, waiting.
But what you don’t see, what you don’t know, what you didn’t stop to think about is that maybe I have a good motherfucking reason to feel this way.
Monsters are never born—they’re made.
The red and blue lights flash across the dark sky, lighting up the otherwise quiet suburban street.
Neighbors have come out to watch the unfolding scene in their robes and slippers.
They congregate on either side of the sweet two-story home, whispering among themselves about whatever could be happening at the Clarke home.
Poor Allison. She sits shocked on the pavement outside, watching as officers filter in and out of her home.
Her pale cheeks are illuminated by the cruiser lights surrounding her house.
She has a blanket draped across her slumped shoulders.
Her eyes stare up at the white colonial, seeing and unseeing.
She looks like a ghost—her happy little facade cracking and breaking with each muddy boot that trumps through her perfectly pristine suburban cage.
Poor, poor Allison. Such a shame that her flawless little life is falling apart.
It was a necessary evil, though. She can’t be mine if she’s his.
The man of the hour is pacing angrily across the lawn.
His phone is to his ear as he yells and waves his free arm.
He’s still in the same jeans and polo shirt he was wearing when I watched him get off the plane.
His blond hair is tousled and in disarray from running his fingers through it while he anxiously talks on the phone. No doubt calling daddy.
Daddy can’t get you out of this one, you fucking piece of shit.
Allison doesn’t even look at her husband.
They were back home together for mere minutes before the police showed up.
I wonder if she’s even had time to question him about where he’s been and who he’s been with?
Did she ask him if he was with another woman?
The thought of her simmering with rage while she accuses him of cheating has the corners of my lips titling up to a smile.
I wonder if she knows what the police are looking for—what they’ll find?
Not that he was actually cheating, of course.
Fucking dipshit was more than willing to let me catfish him and lure him away for the week so I could enjoy more late-night visits with my Sleeping Beauty uninterrupted.
‘Jessica’ was a computer generated mock up of attractive blonde women—Brody’s preference—who met him on a dating app geared toward married men looking for discrete affairs.
It was easy enough to hack into Brody’s phone and access all the information I needed to lead him straight to ‘Jessica.’ The minute she offered to suck him off in Vegas, he booked a flight.
Fucking pathetic.
If that goddess was in my bed, there would be no creature in Hell or Earth that could make me leave her.
I’d stay trapped between those sinfully slender thighs for the remainder of my days and then find her in every afterlife that came next, obsessively chasing her until the end of existence.
But that’s why this plan is necessary, you see.
He doesn’t deserve her. She is meant to be mine.
And I will do whatever it takes to make sure that happens.
I stroke the scar along my hand—a reminder of a promise made long ago. A promise I intend on keeping.
I slip my phone from my pocket and open the app that connects me to the live feed inside the house.
I have cameras everywhere in Allison’s life, including in her home.
I tell myself it’s to keep an eye on her, to keep her safe and secure.
But right now, I’m thoroughly enjoying watching the police ransack their home.
Each lamp turned over, pillowcase emptied, and drawer dumped out is one more piece of their picture-perfect facade that crumbles to the ground.
My eyes flit back to where Allison sits on the ground, a tear trails down her cheek as she watches the police carry out her laptop and place it in the back of an SUV.
The urge to walk across the street and lick the tear from her skin is so strong my fingers flinch.
Unfortunately, right now, I’m forced to simply stand by while my Sleeping Beauty sobs on the sidewalk as the police tear apart her home.
Soon enough, I will get to taste every inch of her—her tears, her blood, and her cum.
But tonight, I wait. Her body shivers. I can see the slight uptick of her shoulders even from here.
Allison is cracking, and beneath the surface lies the beautiful chaos that is the woman I love. She just needs to be unleashed.
There’s a flurry of commotion, voices shouting, heads turning to the door.
An officer emerges from the house with an evidence bag held high.
Inside is a pair of bloodied underwear and a cellphone.
Both belong to a missing woman…I should know, I planted them under Brody’s side of the mattress.
Allison’s mouth falls open, her head slowly turns to face the paling figure of her husband.
As if in slow motion, I watch as his hand falls, the phone dropping, and his eyes widen in horror.
This is fucking great. I should have brought popcorn to go along with the show.
An officer approaches Brody Clarke with cuffs in his hand.
The metal glints in the flashing police lights and I swear I almost get a semi just thinking about the cold bite of that metal around Brody’s wrists.
The time has come for this motherfucker to get the justice he deserves.
The officer spins my pal Brody around and pulls his arms behind his back.
Allison rises to her feet, the blanket pooling on the ground below her, as she watches her husband be cuffed.
Damn, I wish I could get closer so I could hear what’s going on. But I can’t risk it. I can’t be seen here.
The officer leads Brody to the back of a car and places a hand on his head, guiding him to the backseat.
Neighbors cover their mouths in shocked expressions as the nice husband from the house next door is driven away in the back of a cop car.
They throw pitying looks over their shoulders at Allison.
Poor, poor lonely Allison. But no one goes to comfort her.
One by one, they filter back into their houses and close their doors.
The police leave too; one by one, getting in their cars and driving off, until the only person left outside is a sad woman all alone.
Well, not all alone, truly. Because I’m always here, always watching and waiting.
She sits outside for a long time, so long that I begin to worry.
But eventually, she gathers her blanket and heads inside.
I wait a moment to make sure no one is watching, before slipping the mask from the backseat.
A single white lilly sits in the back as well.
It must have fallen from the bouquet that I left for her earlier.
Lilies are her favorite flower. I bet my buddy Brody doesn’t know that.
Turning on the glowing red LEDs, I slide the mask over my face and exit the car into the cold night air.
Time to play, Sleeping Beauty.