I've been aware of her presence for at least a week now, trailing behind me like a shadow. At times, I catch glimpses of her from the corner of my eye. She's undeniably attractive—scratch that, she's captivatingly stunning.
Let me paint a clearer picture of her, though her beauty won't last much longer. Imagine a canvas bathed in the soft glow of sunlight, where a vision emerges: a girl with enchanting green eyes and locks of strawberry blonde hair. Her hair flows in gentle waves, reminiscent of golden wheat fields kissed by morning dew. Each strand dances with the breeze, framing her delicate features with a halo of warmth and radiance. Her eyes, like emeralds flecked with gold, possess a magnetic allure, drawing you into their depths. With a complexion akin to porcelain warmed by the sun, she exudes timeless elegance, captivating all who behold her. She moves with a grace that is both ethereal and enchanting, leaving beauty and wonder in her wake.
But now, imagine her dismembered and mutilated beyond recognition. That's the image I crave.
You're probably repulsed by now, and rightfully so. But picture her, drenched in crimson blood, screaming for mercy. It ignites something within, doesn't it?
When I heard the twig snap, I knew it was time to confront her, to set my perfect trap. If executed flawlessly, I would never be caught.
As I turned to face her, her eyes met mine with uncertainty. "Are you following me?" I demanded, my voice laced with intimidation.
She cleared her throat, fumbling for words. "I, uh... I can explain?" Her nervousness was palpable.
"So, explain," I retorted, aiming for a menacing tone. Girls dig that, right?
"Well, you see... I... Um... Okay, so..." Her words stumbled out like a drunken confession. "I-I was just going home! I live down here!" she squeaked, pointing vaguely ahead. "My house is just a block away."
"Right. Okay, then. Care to walk with me? I'm rather bored, and some company would be nice," I offered, flashing what I thought was a charming smile.
As she walked beside me, uttering a timid thanks, I couldn't help but wonder—should I make it quick and clean with the butcher's knife, or should I opt for the serrated one, for a more dramatic finale?
She probably thinks she's off the hook, that I'm oblivious to her watchful gaze. But her time is limited. Once she trusts me completely, she won't be watching anyone.
Those captivating eyes will look even more stunning once they're out of their sockets.
