It will be like bonding all over again.
I laugh.
She was right about one thing.
I am a psycho. Her psycho.
1. Asshole.
FIFTEEN
RUIN
They say life moves on, but I never get that feeling. I feel stuck in an endless limbo, going back and back to the night two years ago, trying to remember what truly happened. No matter how hard I try, I still can’t, and no matter how hard I am trying, it still doesn’t bring me the peace I need.
What’s worse, for a year now, someone has been watching me, making sure I never get the happy ending I need to move on.
I don’t know who this man is. For some time, I thought it was Judas. But this man can speak. He only says a word or two, but he speaks, and that scares me.
I am scared because I know how this will go. He will stalk me until he grows tired, and then he will kill me and drop my body somewhere in the ocean. That is what stalkers do.
Right?
But my stalker not only makes my life miserable, but he also makes people disappear. To be precise, every single man I want to date.
I wish I could see his face, because when I close my eyes, all I see is Judas.
But I know it’s not him. Still, I’m waiting, thinking maybe one day he will show up on my doorstep and tell me that all of this is just a bad dream. Even though two years have passed, I still remember him as if it were yesterday.
The doorbell pulls my thoughts apart, and I gasp as my head tilts down.
Catherine is away with Lucas, and I’m home alone. I don’t expect anyone.
I pull the sweater over my head and smooth it down my body as I walk from the bedroom and down the stairs. The house feels too empty. But I can’t shake the odd feeling that someone is watching me.
I swallow the lump in my throat and make my way toward the door, glancing left and right, trying to see if someone is there.
I open the door, and no one stands outside.
When my gaze drops, I see a small cardboard box with a red bow. I lift it, surprised by how light it feels. I close the door behind me and carry it to the cupboard on the left side. I set it down and untie the bow.
I lift the lid and gasp, stumbling back.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
My hand flies to my mouth. Arms hook around me from behind. A hard chest presses into my back. Warm breath ghosts my neck. His nose drags along my skin as he inhales my perfume.
“Watch,” he says, his voice is broken, raspy, and deep.
He shoves me toward the cupboard and tips my head down.
My eyes land on what sits in the carton box. A severed cock.
My stomach drops.
He laughs.
My heart slams against my ribs. My head tilts, trying to see his face because the laugh is too familiar.
