** Warning: Depictions of stalking. **
My tranquil dreams were suddenly disturbed by the sound of shattering glass in the kitchen. My eyes shot open and I stared at the black abyss through my doorway. It was recurring event and I knew I would be vindicated if I killed an interloper. Unfortunately, this mentality gave me a false sense of security, but I knew this night was different because I found trouble going back to sleep.
My heart was pounding against my rib cage and it was difficult to breathe as my chest tightened. I took a deep breath to try to calm myself, but my thoughts continued to fester. Eventually, it started to become such a nuisance that I wondered how long I had been laying there. Squinting my eyes, I glimpsed at the red font of the electronic clock: 3:04 A.M. God, 20 minutes?
I looked back into the pitch black of my room, thinking it was impractical for someone to be in my house. "Ugh... This can't be real, it never is," I thought aloud with a groan as I peeled my sweaty back from the sheets. There are always bumps in the night whether it's a next-door neighbor, a poorly placed item or even a system malfunctioning.
It was plausible that I had placed a drinking glass too close to the edge, but there were nights where I left my room and noticed things had been relocated. Perhaps I absentmindedly moved them myself; it was the only logical explanation. Therefore, I knew I was being paranoid, yet I couldn't ignore the feeling of someone's eyes burning a hole through me.
After forcing myself up, I hesitantly walked to the doorway and disappeared into the dark. I stumbled around for a while as my fingers searched the wall for the hall light. They trailed across the texture and the fear began to weigh heavier on me. Thoughts of the unknown swallowed my reasoning like they were laughing at my impotence.
I-I can't.
Someone's there...
There could really be someone there...
And I can't see!
Then I found it. Click.
The hall was illuminated, relieving me of my troubles. I didn't want to be ambushed by a coward with no intention of fighting a fair fight, but now it wouldn't be a problem. I exhaled heavily as I moved further down and into the kitchen. Even though the light above the oven poorly lit the entire room, I could still tell that there was nothing to be found—not even a broken glass. It was unsettling and confirmed that I was actually hearing things. Could I really tell the difference?
I fearlessly walked back into my room and went into the master bathroom. After I flipped on the lights, I went over to the sink and hung my head between my shoulders. I stood there for a few relieving moments until I heard a noise behind me. "Psst." I jerked my head around to see a dark figure standing on the other side of my bed. I swallowed hard, wondering if it were an intruder or a figment of my imagination.
"Psst, come here," the small voice whispered. I deeply inhaled, telling myself it wasn't real. However, when I turned to face the mirror I was petrified to see the atramentous figure standing behind me. It reached out its long, cadaverous fingers and firmly gripped my shoulder. I tried to pull away, but its honed fingernails dug into my bare skin. The monster had no distinct features other than its bloody, serrated smile. "All those scars and not a single reparation," it sneered as a line of warm crimson saliva dripped down my back and into the waistline of my boxers.
My eyes remained fixated on the creature until I felt something crawling up my hand. When I looked down, I saw a molted American cockroach making its way up my forearm. My stomach heaved as the surface of my skin went numb. They invaded the cast polymer sink until it was overflowing and their detestable bodies slapped against the white tile. Many started to swarm the air and the hissing grew louder as the bathroom light faded into darkness. They used their creepy legs to crawl up my back and began enveloping my entire body.
Adrenaline coursed faster through my heart as I frantically swatted at their cool, oily forms in an attempt to rid myself of them. All the while, I was jumping up and down to shake the others from my body, yet it was a useless effort when their pronotum figures reached my face and began suffocating me. My hectic screams were ceaseless; they filled the air with desperate, choked pleas. In the midst of my dismay, I started to feel faint and slipped, hitting my head on the floor. "Fuck," I groaned, clutching the point of contact. When I opened my eyes, there wasn't a single albino roach or black figure looming over me.
"Don't be a pussy, Al," I reproved myself.
I remained on the cold, solid ground, pondering my next step. Going back to sleep didn't seem like a plausible solution to dissipate my consternation. Alternatively, I decided to get dressed and go to the Roberts household. To avoid detection, I wore all black and a procedure mask.
~~~
I walked up to your back gate and let myself into the yard. It has been a while since the grass has last been mowed, but I'll cut you some slack. You have only been home for a couple of days after methodically weaseling your way out of prison. How anyone could distinguish you as a good person is beyond my understanding. However, even with what a cunt you and your wife turned out to be, I couldn't stay away from your daughter.
Fortunately, Melody has grown into the habit of leaving her window unlocked. Her reasoning is anything but spiritless as she does it for her boyfriend, Evan Trainer. He is a senior in high school that's still hoping to get a sports scholarship because he's too stupid to get better than average grades. I felt indifferent about jocks when I was in school, but he has managed to turn that indifference into full-blown hatred. He's a narcissistic, entitled douchebag.
Your daughter is too intelligent and discerning to have taken an interest in him. Therefore, I'm left to believe that he has manipulated her in some way, but I'll never allow myself to get too close. If I hate the guy as much as I think I do, I'm liable to choke him to death with his own jockstrap.
Nevertheless, my diligent dedication in obtaining revenge wouldn't have been volatilized if I couldn't get into Melody's room. I would have found another way to acquire some blackmail, but that isn't really why I'm here today. If I may say truthfully, I love your daughter and being close to her things has a way of making me feel better. It's why I would rather be here than at home.
Although, please try to remain level-headed because my infatuation with her didn't start until I realized she was of age. Melody is a couple years older than my sister and I just couldn't think of her that way, but you know how it is, right? Once a door is blown off its hinges it is nearly impossible to close. Maybe my feelings are because she looks like she could be your wife's younger, more insightful twin.
It always has a way of making me happy when I can spot the differences in their personalities, but don't get me wrong. I wouldn't waste the opportunity if I discovered anything revealing because I can't let my feelings distract me from what really matters—even if it meant destroying Melody's future. All I would need is some information to force you to meet me at an isolated location, then I'd kill you. Afterwards, I'd figure out how to deal with your wife but not until then.
Sometimes it's painful to be realistic, but there is no reason I would need to spare Melody if I had something to blackmail her family with. We could never be together and she hates me because you and your detestable wife spread lies about the situation.
Your lies may have ruined my "chances," but they also obliterated her trust in both of you. How is she supposed to know what to believe? The rumors were convincing, but the truth must make her question your lies. Perhaps in her eyes, you guys destroyed an innocent kid for the mistake your wife made.
But do take note Daniel, every time I have snuck into your daughter's room, I have gone through her closet, drawers, books and everywhere I could think of, searching for some information. You'd think everyone would keep their secrets in their underwear drawer but she does not. That is unless you consider toys a secret. Regardless, your daughter's life has been the most virtuous I've ever had the opportunity to raid.
I remember the first time I climbed through her window; I pushed my luck with the rest of the house, but there ended up being more risk than reward. I was almost caught by Alice and I didn't want to ruin my ability to get in without picking a lock. It also would have made it more difficult to spend time in your daughter's room. Unfortunately, my fear is substantially worse now that you are back. How can I do my thing with you snooping around?
I ran my fingers along the edge of her dresser and picked up a freshly placed flyer. The background was a picture of the night's sky and the stars were shining much brighter than the real ones. I read the headline:
A Night to Remember
Fucking cliché, but maybe this party would give me the chance to finally introduce myself. Perfect.
"Yeah, I'll definitely be going," I heard Melody's silvery, disembodied voice talking on the phone. I quickly took a picture of the flyer and quietly tiptoed across the hardwood floor. I opened her closet and hid inside, leaving the bi-fold doors cracked just right. From where I was standing, I could see the entire room and smell her lavender scented clothes pressing firmly against my back. The aroma stirred an urge I wasn't aware I had.
Not even two seconds later she walked in. "Honestly, no. Evan and I are basically done," she said turning on the light. Melody traveled across the room to the front of her dresser which allowed me to finally get a look at her. She was wearing a pair of blue silk sleep pants and a tank top. It's all so... form-fitting.
Her toes were painted sky blue and that "luxuriant, raven black hair," so graciously given by her mother, was up in a ponytail, swinging from side to side. Her skin looked so soft and perfect that my fingers twitched with a need to caress it. My breathing hitched while I wondered if she had any blemishes hidden underneath her clothes. Then I took a deep breath to pull myself back to reality and processed what she revealed about her and Evan's relationship.
I felt a little disappointed in myself for delighting over their breakup because I do want her to be happy, assuming he made her feel that way. Then again, people don't need a relationship to find happiness. If anything, they use it to distract themselves from whatever they are currently facing. Although, it isn't always a bad thing. Sometimes people need a little support to get through the unpleasantness of life.
"I don't care what either of them think," she snapped, most likely speaking of her parents. "It's not like it was their relationship. They don't even have the right to lecture me when they can't even sustain a marr—" she paused, looking at the flyer then to her window. Hesitating, her voice shook, "I'll have to call you back."
I do have to say she has quite the observational skills, Daniel. She's so intuitive I actually fear she might discover me hiding in her closet. Even then the chances of her overpowering me are zero and I'd be out of here before she could finish screaming.
I can tell she's thought about this as she stared directly at me through the closet doors. It was dark, but her bedroom light was on and everything in her closet was so bright. My black clothes created an inconsistency in color and noticing this would cause for alarm.
Her eyes were panicked as she neared and I began wondering what she might do. Seeing her this way saddened me. I couldn't help but feel guilty for coming here this morning since my presence had such an adverse affect on her mental health. I thought she was staying at a friend's house, otherwise I would not have snuck in. I don't want this to be our first encounter.
Before she could open the door, fear crippled her dainty courage and she rushed out of the room. I took the opportunity and swung the closet open; the wood slammed against the wall, confirming her fears. I could hear the soles of their feet slapping the tile as they quickly raced down the hall, but it was just long enough for me to fall out of the window and into the garden bed. Regrettably, the scent of red roses and thorns puncturing through the fabric of my hoodie was enough to make me forget the smell of her clothes.
I rolled over onto the soft, uncut grass and got up to sprint across the yard to the gate. As I looked back, you had already burst through the door like some madman ready to fuck shit up. This was the first time I had seen you since you've been out. There was this expression of unforgettable anger, even worse than the time you showed up at my house. There's no doubt in my mind that you love Melody more than you'll ever love your wife.
Not a split second later, she followed after you and was horrified to see the closet doors open. Melody collapsed to the floor, crying out with what I assume was relief. She knew if I had any intention of killing her then she would already be dead.
Initially, I had just planned to talk to her at that party, but now I wanted her to know the truth—the real truth. If she doesn't accept that truth, then I will be forced to kill her and I think we both hope it never has to come to that. On the other hand, if she does accept it and understands why you both have to be punished, then she will be able to live out the rest of her days without her parents. At least in this way she would know what happened.
It might seem cruel, but since I'm running out of time and after your display, you proved that she would be my most effective source of leverage. It wounds my soul to think that she'll know I'm the one that killed her parents, but we all have to suffer for the things we want.
You'll never be able to keep her from me.