The Stalker
The silence she is giving me is deafening. She hasn't said a word to me since she sat in my car. I glance over at her. Seeing she is staring out the passenger window, cuddled up in her safety blanket. The sight burns a warmth in my chest.
Her perfect white locks spiral into wavy curls surrounding her. A light dusting of freckles kisses her nose and cheeks like the stars on a clear night. She looks better without makeup. Raw, bare, radiant. Fucking incomparable.
Her head turns in my direction, feeling my gaze. She raises a manicured brow. A blush flushing across before she turns back around. Would it be awful if I just kidnapped her? To keep her forever. I think she would learn to forgive me.
As we draw closer to my home; she perks up with curiosity.
I don’t park in my garage this time, just on the driveway.
I exit and round the car to her door. She opens it before I get there, and I shut it before it becomes fully open, slamming it in her face.
She gives me a perplexed look through the window, and I re-open the door for her.
“You never open your door when you're with me,” I say, but it’s more of an order. She gives me a nod and drags her blanket with her out of the car.
“Do you live here alone?” she asks, examining the outside details. She stumbles, stepping on a piece of the fabric.
“You’re going to want to take that off. And yes, I do. I’m single if that's what you're asking.” I wink at her before putting the key in the lock and turning it.
“No, that's not what I’m asking, Axel.”
“Here, you can put your blanket on the couch.” I point to the long sectional sitting to the left of us. I hold the door open, letting her in first. She takes a weary step inside. Her eyes roam around the interior, taking it in.
I like to keep my house minimal. Just necessities. I don’t need any fancy paintings or decorations or anything. I like it that way. It’s all useless clutter to me. Once she takes a few steps in, I shut the door behind her. She starts to unwrap the blanket.
“Nice place. You're not going to murder me, right? You're not lying about Parker and tricking me into coming here just so you can murder me?” she questions. I stare at her, eyeing her up and down.
“Green bunnies and daisies?" I point to her pajama choice. She is wearing a two-piece set. White pants with a white tank top, covered in small, detailed patterns. It's adorable. And it makes me want to rip them off her. She looks down at her clothes.
“What if I did lie? What if Parker isn’t here?” I continue to answer her questions.
“First–” She points a finger at me, taking a little power from the fate I have planned for her.
“You’re the one who was so insistent on seeing me, in whoever knows what time it is. When I was already in bed. Secondly—” She shoves her finger into my chest. The small digit, slightly sinking into my pec.
“I believe if you wanted to murder me, you would have done it already. Am I wrong?” She then crosses her arms in defiance.
I step toward her and she stands her ground.
I get close enough that our bodies slightly touch and I can feel the warmth from her little body radiating.
My head has to bend all the way down in order to meet her gaze.
I can feel the sexual tension between us, and I know she feels it too. The center of her throat bobs up and down as she swallows. My jaw muscles flex as I clench with need. Having her here in my home… where I can do anything I want, is so tempting. Too bad we have other matters to deal with first.
“Why don’t we head down to the basement and test your theory?” I ask, adding more mystery. I gesture past the kitchen to the door on the side. She keeps her eyes on mine as her head turns cautiously. She then looks at the long stretch and begins to walk in the direction of my pointed hand.
I follow behind, keeping an unhealthy close distance, feeling her light hair brush against me. When we reach the door, she pauses, peering down at the door handle. I can see the internal battle in her expression. Not knowing what lies beyond the door. She’s in a lose-lose situation, anyway.
If she decides to go down, she at least has the opportunity to take control back. And I want that for her. I could easily kill the fucker myself, but it’s not about me this time. It’s about her. It's for her. She reaches a hand out and grabs the handle.
A click of the door opening releases something she can no longer take back. This is her choice, and there is no going back. I help her pull the door open. She takes a deep breath before stepping down. The creaks of the wooden steps wail beneath our feet.
She stops at the bottom, waiting for me in the darkness.
Her innocence already illuminates the room before I turn the light on.
Small noises come from the depths, and she looks at me, frightened.
I flip the switch on, and the single bulb gives light to the center of the chamber.
She cups her mouth, shielding back a scream.
“I told you I had him down here,” I tell her, putting a hand on her back and ushering her toward him. I feel the resistance in her steps, but she doesn't stop.
“You can't do this, Axel. This is wrong. Oh my god,” she blurts out, seeing his unhinged condition. He is still restrained to the chair. Tape is still covering his mouth, and his skin is raw and rashed. Parker blinks heavily until he sees my girl, then his eyes go wide. He thrashes around.
“Axel, please. You need to let him go. This is not right,” she insists. I’m leaning up against the wall, arms crossed, watching. She doesn’t make a move on her own to free him. If she really wanted him free, I know she would try to pry open the rope.
I push myself off the wall, walking past her and toward Parker, who is continuing to thrash. He yells as I pull off the multilayered tape. Dahlia puts her hands over ears in terror. His skin is red and bleeding. The tape takes off more than just dead skin.
“Fuck you, let me go!” he shouts. I ignore him. My head turns back to Dahlia and I speak. But the question is for the vile creature in the chair.
“So you love taking advantage of women?” I say, keeping my gaze on Dahlia.
“I did nothing wrong. I’m a good person!” As my temper rises, I turn back around and swing. He screams before blood spits from his mouth. Dahlia shifts backward, creating distance from something she may end up wanting control of. I face her again.
“Tell me, Parker,” my words spew like venom.
“When you grabbed her, it wasn't the first time. Was it?” I ask, knowing damn well the truth. My Little Flower’s face scrunches in confusion. When the pervert doesn't speak, I turn back around and swing again. Harder.
“I can’t fucking hear you,” I shout, spitting in his face. I shove my pocketknife against his cheek, a threat without words for what's to come. I turn his head toward me using the blade. His slumped body moves slowly, then he puts a shit-eating grin on his face.
“I didn’t do anything she wouldn't like. Considering she let someone else take advantage of her,” he states, confidently. My blood pressure increases, and I can feel my fury flow through my veins. I take the knife and stab it into his forearm until it pierces all the way through.
A bloodcurdling scream fills the room. I’m breathing heavily, wanting to end him right here, right now. Terror is written all over my girl's face. She looks at me and the now mutilated arm.
She's scared. And I don't know if it's of me, of him, or the both of us.
Her eyes glaze over, tears forming on her bottom lashes. I take a step toward her, softening my expression for her. She speaks and I don’t expect it.
“Th–That's how you knew it was concrete,” she whispers low. I can barely make out what she says, but it leaves me cocking my head.
“That’s how you knew when I told you I fell.
You knew it was on concrete… I–It was you.
It was fucking you!” she says, her voice slowly getting louder and more panicked.
The look on her face makes me want to sweep her away and take her far from this.
Far from the trauma she has to endure, but we both know there is no escaping it.
Once you’re fucked up, those demons torment you forever.
A sick, sadistic laugh expels from him. I keep my attention on Dahlia. I grab her shoulders in a concerned grasp. I know this is cruel for me to do, but she fucking needs this. She needs to see who did this to her. And she needs to fucking do something about it. She begins to cry.
“Hey, look at me. Look at me.” I shake her slightly until she does through wet, thick lashes.
“I knew the moment Zane and I went after him. Zane helped me track the car that was in the area the night he attacked you. When I zoomed out of the parking lot… It was the same car,” I say tenderly. Looking at her beautiful, yet broken face.
“W–What? How did you know—” she asks, but I interrupt.
“It’s not important right now. What's important is what you are going to do about it?” I ask, grabbing the pocketknife and slowly handing it to her. She looks down at it and shakes her head. Instead of letting her refuse it, I open her hand, forcing it in. My hand closes around hers and the handle.
“Why did you do it? You piece of shit.” I turn back to Parker, who looks deranged, trying to fuel more fire into my Little Flower.
“I mean, look at her. I know you want her too. Don’t act like you wouldn't do the same, just like that other masked guy,” he says, trying to justify his actions. He can push my buttons, just not my girls. I say something that I may or may not regret.
“That’s the difference between you and me.” I pace around the chair.
“When I finger-fucked her in the garage, she wanted it. She might not admit it, but she did.” I continue, and both Parker and Dahlia whip their heads toward me, surprised.
“I know how to make a woman want it. She could have easily gotten away, but she didn’t try.
At least not hard enough to really want to.
With you… you took. Took something that wasn't yours to begin with because she belongs to me. Do you understand? And she told you to stop.” I whisper, getting under his skin.
I peer up at my girl, and she looks like she’s seen a ghost.
“No way. That wasn’t fucking you. It couldn't have been,” the pig in the chair says.
“Oh, but it was. It’s always been me and it always will be.” I walk toward my girl. There's a war going on internally, and I can see it. She was going to find out, eventually. I guess this is the best time to do it. She doesn't say anything.
“Fuck you. I’ll fucking kill you. And your whore too,” he yells as if he has a way to fucking escape. I walk closer to her. She is frozen in place. I place my hand on her cheek. Something in her eyes tells me she forgives me. She doesn't flinch. She doesn't back away. She doesn't seem sad anymore.
I notice the grip she has around the knife tightening until she is white-knuckled. There's the rage. There's the Dahlia I need right now. Give me that fucking merciless fury that drives you into violent fucking madness you can’t come back from. I need her to be like me.
She grabs my wrist, removing it from her face. Still staring into my blackened eyes. I give her a nod, and she circles around me, walking toward Parker. He chuckles, but is quickly silenced with her piercing stare.
“How could you? You had no right to do that to me! I did nothing to you. Nothing! You, you fucking ruined me. I can’t be touched without flinching.
I can’t be alone without breaking down. I can’t relax because I am constantly afraid that the masked guy is going to come back. You had no right!” she cries out.
“I would have come back. To finish what I started,” he spews. I don’t know why he keeps talking. He's digging his grave deeper and deeper, but by all means. He is going to end up fucking dead, anyway.
My Little Flower takes the knife and looks at it hesitantly before stabbing it into his other forearm, copying me.
My eyebrows shoot up. Parker thrashes and convulses against the restraints, screaming in agony.
My girl takes a step back, realizing what she had done.
Metal hits the floor as she loosens her grip around the handle.
I walk up behind her and turn her around to face me. I don’t want her to regret any of her choices, so I don’t give her another second to think, and I kiss her. I finally fucking kiss her.