6.
I t's amazing how easy it is to go unnoticed.
When I was younger it used to bother me. The fact that I could stand in a crowded room and unless I made an absolute fool of myself no one would know I was there.
Now I see it for what it really is. My super power.
I've spent my entire life blending in to the shadows.
Tonight is no different.
My eyes drag over the group of people across the street, all of them so drunk they wouldn't even be able to find me if I were standing right in front of their faces. It's a good thing. I don't want to have to worry about them tonight. Tonight all I can think about is sweet inquisitive Starla.
I saw her today at Lover's Bluff.
She was there. Standing right on the spot where I had my way with Brynn.
I close my eyes as the memories of that night so long ago comes rushing back to me. The memories aren't as vibrant as they once were. I wish there was a way for me to make new memories.
"No, no more." I slam the heel of my hand against my temple. Trying to fight against my urges to kill is getting harder and harder but so far I haven't slipped up. It's been years since I've killed. Years since I felt that thrill.
Now with Starla and her group of ragtag documentarians running around the need to release this deadly tension is at an all time high.
Moving from my hiding spot behind the house, I walk to the back door. It's shrouded in tall shrubs. Perfect for what I have in mind.
At first, I turn the knob, and it doesn't budge but I can tell by the way it jiggles that it won't take long for me to get in. I slide a thin card into the frame and push with only a little force.
The lock gives under my touch like it’s inviting me inside. Weak. Useless. I step in without a sound, shutting the door behind me with care. No wasted time. No hesitation. I already know she’s alone. I made sure of it.
The house is silent except for the faint hum of the fridge, the distant tick of a clock. The air smells like her—soft, warm, something sweet that lingers in the walls, in the fabric of the couch, in the very breath of this place. It makes my teeth ache.
I move through the shadows like I belong here, trailing my fingers along the cool walls. I don’t need to look around. I know where to go. I always know where to go.
The bedroom door is cracked open, just enough.
I slip in.
She’s there, curled up beneath the sheets, chest rising and falling in a slow, steady rhythm. So peaceful. So unaware. The faint glow from the moonlight outside spills through the window, tracing soft shadows along her cheekbones, her bare shoulder peeking from beneath the blanket.
And then I see it.
The knife.
A small thing, delicate, gripped loosely in her fingers even as she sleeps. A safety blanket of cold steel.
A grin tugs at my lips. Oh, Starla. You make me proud. You’re not stupid. Not an easy target. You know something’s out there in the dark, waiting. Watching.
You just don’t know it’s already inside.
I lean against the doorframe, drinking her in, my pulse steady, measured. It’s been too long since I’ve felt this electric hum beneath my skin, this bone-deep hunger to be close to something fragile, something that thinks it’s safe.
I step closer. Slow. Silent.
I could leave. I should.
But I don’t.
Instead, I hover at the edge of the bed, watching her fingers twitch against the handle of that useless little blade. It wouldn’t stop me. Not if I really wanted her. Not if I reached out, plucked it from her hand, and replaced it with something far worse.
My breath is steady, quiet, but my pulse… my pulse is alive.
She stirs, shifting slightly, a small sound escaping her lips. My fingers flex.
I shouldn’t be here.
But as long as I don’t wake her, as long as I don’t touch, what’s the harm?
Just watching. Just breathing her in.
Falling back into old habits.
And what a dangerous habit this is.
I'm always on the edge of getting caught. Always one wrong move away from spending the rest of my life in prison. I'll never let that happen. It's why I'm so careful.
My eyes trace over her body, but even the bulky quilt does nothing to hide her figure from me. She's absolutely breathtaking.
In a different world, she'd be my girl. She'd see me for who I really am and she'd accept all of me. I wouldn't have to try hard for her to notice me. I wouldn't have to put the mask on that I wear for everyone else.
She'd smile at me, she'd hold me. She'd come for me.
My thighs tense and I feel myself getting aroused.
Oh what I'd do to her.
Before I can stop myself my mind whirls with possibility. It's like a movie playing in my mind. I can almost hear her moaning my name. Can almost feel the way her nails would dig into my back as I plow into her over and over. I'd never get tired of my shining star.
Sweat starts to bead up around my hairline and I hear myself breathing harder. I need to get myself under control. But what can I do. My eyes focus on the rise and fall of her chest and my cock gets even harder.
I just need to relieve some tension, then I'll go. I won't hurt her.
I swear.
Finally I drag my eyes away from her searching for anything I can use.
Like a kid finding a chocolate bar I nearly jump for joy when I see the small laundry basket she's got tucked away in the corner.
Making sure to keep my movements slow and quiet I walk over to it and pluck out a pair of worn panties.
Instantly, I bring them up to my face and take a deep breath. I can smell her all over these. I fight back a groan by stuffing the fabric in my mouth and tasting her. God, how I want to just pull her legs apart right now and dive in face first.
I want to feel her bursting all over my tongue like my favorite candy.
My eyes jerk back up to Starla when she groans slightly before kicking the covers down a little more. Her chest only covered by the thinest fabric.
"Shit." I whisper to myself and drop my hand to my waist taking the wonderful smelling panties right along with it.
Quietly I unzip my pants and pull my cock out. Wrapping the fabric around my shaft and holding it tight with my hand I slowly jerk off. The feel of the silky fabric against my sensative skin nearly buckles my knees but I have to stay strong for her.
I can't give in to just what I want. I jerk myself in time with her breathing. Slow and steady.
Up and down.
Tight.
Building pressure, more and more.
I do this for what feels like forever until I can't hold back anymore and I come hard, gritting my teeth and soaking the panties in my cum.
By the time it's over I'm out of breath but I do feel a little better. It's not completely satisfying but it'll have to do for now. Just until I'm able to convice her that we could be so good together.
I have to be able to convince her.
I don't think I'll be able to survive without Starla.
"She's not there. Don't start." I quickly ball up the panties in my hand and fix my clothing. This is exactly how it always starts. I start obsessing over someone who doesn't even see me.
At least that's what my therapist tells me.
With my intense need somewhat sated I turn ready to walk out of the house until I realize I'm still holding on to the panties.
I could take these back with me and put them in my keepsake box but I don't want to do that. Starla should have them. Something for her to remember me by even if she doesn't know it. The thought of leaving them here causes a surge of thrill to course through me once again.
Walking back to the small laundry basket I drop the soiled panties right on the top where she'll see them but I reach deeper and grab another pair for me to take home.
My actions are concerning. I thought I was through with this but I know this is exactly how I usually get started.
Just one trophy for my box back at home. I just want one piece of her to remind myself.
I don't want to go down this path again but she's not giving me much of a choice.
How was I ever supposed to stay away from a beauty like Starla.
I have to make her mine. One way or another.