Chapter 5
Chapter
Five
HIM
“ F uck you, Damon. You’re a fucking monster! Go to ? —”
She screams as my knife sinks into her flesh. I grasp her chin, making sure that she can’t look away as I grant her the end that she so desires. I withdraw the blade and impale her stomach. She cries out in agony, ragged sobs racking her body.
“You’ll never get away with this,” she manages between wails of pain.
I swipe the pad of my thumb across her bottom lip in hollow affection and lean closer. “I already have.” I stab her over and over again, as many times as it takes for Bunny to lose consciousness.
Now to set the scene, stage the body.
I gather her into my arms and carry her up the stairs. Kicking open the door to the bathroom, I deposit her in the tub before going to search her bedroom. She’s been much more organized since being prescribed those pills, but such a shame they didn’t save her from thedark thoughtsin her head.
I find what I’m looking for in the depths of her bag: her journal. As I flip through it, I come across her old suicide note—the one she wrote when she failed to go through with it earlier this year. I tear out the page and proceed to the next step.
This might just be my most creative scene yet.
“Hello?”
I blink a few times, trying to focus on the hand waving in front of my face.
“Hello?” the voice repeats. “Earth to Blake!”
When I finally lift my gaze, I’m met with the furrowed brow of my co-worker, David Jung. Originally from California, he’s a part-time musician whose parents disowned him after he majored in writing instead of law.
“Sorry,” I say. “I was just … thinking.”
“About what?” he pries, eyes alight with curiosity from behind his black square-framed glasses.
I shrug, resisting the urge to smirk at my little daydream . “Nothing important,” I reply, returning to my work.
“Well, I’m glad you’re back.” He folds his wiry arms across his chest. “I was starting to worry about you. We were trying to get your attention for a while now.”
“We?” I ask, seeing a few of my other co-workers standing nearby, all sharing the same concerned expression. Was I that spaced out from lack of sleep? Alex, you fucking goddamn tweaker . “What’s going on?”
“Editor-in-chief wants to speak with you,” he clarifies.
I look up from my computer screen, a surprising feeling of trepidation flickering through me. Though I’m not sure why, as I’m confident my output is top-notch. But I can’t afford to lose my job; I need some sort of income, after all. “Do you know why?”
He shrugs. “Don’t know. He just asked to see you.”
Maybe I’ll finally get a raise; I definitely deserve one. I stand up and follow him down the hall, receiving a sympathetic wave from my colleague, Molly Perez, as I pass. We make it to William’s office, and David gives me a nod.
“Good luck in there,” he says, departing.
I knock on the door. “It’s me. Blake.”
“Yes, yes. Come in.”
I open the door. William is at his desk, talking on the phone. He gestures to the chair in front of the desk, and I sit and wait patiently for him to finish. Once he hangs up the phone, he turns to me, a big grin on his face. Here we go , I think.
“You wanted to see me, Mr. Holloway?”
“Call me Billy,” he corrects.
I fight the temptation to roll my eyes. “Right.”
“Thank you for coming. I’ve been reading your work. And I have to say, Blake, that I’m very impressed.”
“Thank you,” I beam, failing to be modest—because why should I be? I take the shlock written by the others and ascend the material. “I do my best.”
He leans forward on his desk, fingers steepled together. “You have an undeniable talent for writing.”
“Thank you,” I say again. Damon wants to smirk proudly. But Blake is humble, so I tone it down, only allowing a small smile to pull at my lips.
“I’d like to offer you a promotion as a staff writer,” he says. “What do you say?”
Part of me can’t believe it. I’d only been working here for a short time, and already, I’ve proven myself more competent than some of the senior staff. This is the opportunity I’ve been waiting for. And to think, not only do I get to write the news now.
I get to stage it.
“I’m honored,” I reply.
“Welcome to the team! I think you’ll do a great job.” He takes a sip of his coffee and regards me thoughtfully. “I’m excited to see what you can do. About time we have some talented fresh blood around here.”
I can’t help but chuckle at his unintended pun. You really don’t know how right you are . “You have no idea what this opportunity means to me, sir—I mean, Billy. Truly.”
“You don’t have to be so formal. Or modest. I offered because I believe you’re up to the challenge.” He shoots me another grin and swivels his chair back toward his computer. “You’ll officially start the new position tomorrow, and your paychecks will begin reflecting your new rate then as well.” He takes another sip of his coffee. “You’re dismissed.”
I mumble another thanks and walk out of the office. As I return to my desk, some of my co-workers stare at me expectantly. So goddamn nosy.
“So?” David asks, rolling his chair toward me. “What did he say?”
I smile. “I’m getting a promotion. You’re looking at the Fallbank Chronicle’s new staff writer.”
“No shit,” he remarks. “Congratulations.” He pauses, thinking for a beat. “We should celebrate. Go out and get drinks or something. What do you think?”
I consider his suggestion, knowing that I have to take the time to cash my check today. Unfortunately, it’s an arduous process. Since I can’t open a bank account under my fake name, I have to make the drive to another town and get my money through a cash-back place to minimize the paper trail. Then I can put some money on a preloaded card.
“I have some things to take care of after work,” I reply. “But I don’t mind hanging out for a couple of hours this evening.”
“The Hidden Bull Pub sound good?”
I don’t want to get plastered, but I need to put up a convincing social front. Act like I can actually tolerate the presence of my colleagues. “Sure, sounds fun. I’ll call you once I’m finished with my errands.”
He pumps his fist and smiles. “Nice. I’ve been feeling a little stressed out, anyway. I could use a drink. Or two.”
I shake my head as David rolls back to his desk. Being presented with a promotion is truly fortuitous. I exhale a deep breath, determined to make the most of it. It’s going to be a great year.
Since I’m going out, I think I’ll also see what my Little Finch is up to tonight.
The Hidden Bull Pub is an improvement over Bottle Grounds in Vermont, but that honestly isn’t saying much. The stench of stale beer and cigarettes hits me as I walk through the doors, and I wrinkle my nose in disgust. It reminds me of college parties—the ones I forced myself to attend and drink at with my classmates. All I got out of it was self-loathing and a terrible hangover the next day.
Now I know better than to get shit-faced.
Ignoring the stink, I keep walking. This place is familiar to me, and I often come here to scope out future victims and take notes. It’s also a valuable source of gossip. However, I’m here tonight for another reason. I scan the bar for David and the others, and spot them sitting in the booth in the corner.
“Glad you made it,” he says over the music as I slide into the space beside him.
The bar is dimly lit and is becoming more crowded by the minute. There are a few pool tables in the back and a small stage at the front where local bands and other talent come to perform. A few people are dancing, but most are drinking and talking, their voices now competing with the rock music someone just turned on.
“Of course,” I say, my eyes sweeping across the crowds. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
David flags down a waitress weaving through the throngs of people, many of them wearing shirts and jackets with Liberty Grove University logos stamped on them. She smiles as she approaches, and David winks at her.
“What can I get you?” she asks.
“Another round for us”—he gestures to Molly and a couple of others from work I’m hardly acquainted with—“and something for my buddy, Blake, here. On my tab.”
She looks at me, and I give her a cordial smile. “I’ll take just a gin and tonic, please.”
She scribbles down my order and melts into the crowd. The others continue to talk and laugh. But I find myself distracted, unable to stop thinking about Gwen as I wait for my drink. I checked her schedule and saw that she works tonight. If I can leave here soon enough, I’ll have plenty of time to poke around her apartment.
Eventually, the waitress returns and sets a glass in front of me, and distributes the others. Taking a sip, I savor the cold and refreshing taste that helps wash down the irritation of dealing with inane social situations like these. Because the next hour is spent listening to David and crew talking about their jobs, families, and plans for the rest of the summer, as well as reminiscing about the old college days when they partied the nights away .
And David wonders why he let his chances for a better job slip away.
I look around the booth one last time and feign a smile. “I should probably get going,” I say. “I have a long day tomorrow.”
“Yeah, yeah,” David teases, gently elbowing me. “Mister Big-Shot here.”
I finish my drink and stand up. “We should do this again sometime.” Ugh. Please no .
I wave goodbye and leave the bar. Taking a deep breath of fresh air, I hurry to my car and drive home, figuring I have less than an hour before Gwen returns from her shift. Once I arrive, I park as usual and glimpse at the windows. Her lights are off; hopefully, that’s a good sign. I enter the building and head into my apartment to get ready.
After I put on my killer attire, I quietly slip out of the window and make my way down the fire escape. This is the safest way to hide my identity; I can’t risk having someone catching me leaving my apartment dressed like this. But I really need to make a copy of her key—for more than a few reasons. If I could just get a hold of Nancy’s set and make duplicates, I would have access to everything in Grand Pointe.
I look inside Gwen’s bedroom and see no one inside, so I open the window and hop inside. She often sits a box fan on the sill to cool the air and frequently forgets to lock up in her sleepy haze upon waking. She’s adorably forgetful when she first rouses. But it’s yet another reason I should get that key copied, just in case her memory gets better.
And because summer won’t last forever.
Her bedroom is her sanctuary, where she can relax and be herself. A reflection of her personality. You can learn a lot about a person if you look closely at the details of their bedroom. Her music and movie interests are obvious, judging by her posters, further confirmed by the collection of albums and tapes in the living room. She has some books, mostly thrillers. Not much of a romance gal. Just my type.
She has a journal, but there has been nothing interesting written there. Yet.
Judging from the untidy room and unmade bed, she overslept today. I sit on the mattress and lay back on the fluffy beige comforter. As I close my eyes and inhale her scent, I envision her lying here with me. I know one day, it will happen.
I’m slammed out of my reverie when I hear the front door open. She’s early; I suppose traffic was light this evening. I fly into her closet and press my back against the wall, behind the hanging clothes.
As I hear her footsteps approaching, my heart races. Holding my breath as she opens the door to her bedroom, I watch her silhouette through the closet door slits. Even in that ugly uniform, she’s as beautiful as ever. She yanks the scrunchie from her hair and tosses it on top of the vanity.
“Stupid asshole,” she mutters, running her fingers through her faded red strands. “I’m more qualified to run that place than you are.” She walks over to her dresser and begins to undress.
I watch her, unable to tear my eyes off her as she strips down to just her panties and bra. I grow hard, uncomfortably so. She prepares for bed, humming to herself as she brushes her teeth in the bathroom. Once she returns, she slips under the covers and buries her head in the pillow. I contemplate revealing myself, but I decide to hold off for now and wait until she’s asleep to leave. I expect her to doze off, but it never happens.
Instead, she swings her legs off the bed and opens the drawer of the nightstand, retrieving a sizeable toy. She kicks off her panties and lays back down, spreading her thighs as she turns it on. I can’t look away from her glistening pussy as she presses the head against her clit. She whimpers, tweaking her nipples through her bra—a bra I wish I could rip off her myself. She clicks a button, raising the intensity, her back arching as she slides the thick length between her folds.
I stroke myself, biting my lip as I watch her insert the toy into her dripping cunt. Her breathing becomes ragged, her pussy gripping the shaft for dear life as she moves it in and out. God, I wish that were me right now. She quickens her pace, her sounds becoming higher pitched and desperate.
“Fuck, feels so good,” she whines, the sound divine.
My breath catches when she moans my name.
“Blake, oh God … Fuck me …”
I want to come so badly, but I want— need —her to saymyname. Not that dork, Blake. Mine .
She cries out, her orgasm coming on strong, her knees shaking. She tosses the toy back into the drawer and snuggles back under the blanket. I know I’ll be stuck here with this raging boner unless she passes out soon, so I hope for her speedy surrender to the darkness.
Once I hear her softly snoring, I silently leave the closet and jump out the window. I’m riled up, unable to concentrate on anything but the sight of Gwen pleasuring herself. Fuck, I need a distraction . After returning to my apartment, I grab my keys and go for a drive.
I decide to investigate Gwen’s new co-workers.