Ithink he killed someone.
But how? Why?
There's got to be a reason he did it. Trying to figure out why a serial killer kills is probably the stupidest thing ever.
His typical MO is to cut them up and display them, which makes me wonder if he snuck off to do so while I slept.
I sip my coffee, which he handed me, as I walked out this morning.
He's in his 'stalker room’, and I’ve been left to my own devices, reeling.
I took my coffee to enjoy by the pool.
A nice cool breeze moves through the woods surrounding the house, the chill feeling stark against the warmth of my mug.
I ruined his thrill last night when I wouldn't let him use my body to come down from his kill.
Something about that fact makes me giddy. Like I've gotten back at him for what he did to me my first night here.
Rolling my eyes at myself, I set my coffee down on the small teak table beside me.
For a killer, his home is beautiful.
Its seclusion makes me yearn to create a similar life for myself.
I had a home of my own, far outside of town, but it was nothing like this.
And I still had him, stalking me, making life hell.
That hasn't changed.
My curiosity has piqued after last night, and not for the better.
I still plan to get out of here by any means necessary. If I have to use my body, so be it.
He already admitted that Allison is on the hunt for me. I can't imagine it'll take her long to get to me.
Though my stalker has been operating for a very long time under the radar.
Bear pads back towards me from where he'd been chasing a squirrel up a tree.
"You're a menace," I tell him.
He pants in reply, dropping onto the travertine stones that line the pool and lanai.
"Is that why you get along with him so well? Two menaces found one another?"
I realize I sound insane, talking to my dog, who huffs and ignores me as he closes his eyes.
I can only hope the cameras I know are out here don't have sound like the others.
I hate that he's still watching me. I hate feeling like every move, word, and breath is on display.
He's got a twenty-four-seven Greer channel whenever he wants to sit down and watch it, and I'm so sick of being on high alert.
Though being here, I feel more at ease than ever before. Which I also hate.
I hear the sliding glass doors open.
