#smug bitch just straight up lacks empathy

[fyeahnix]

if there's one thing I can't fucking stand it's a person trying to play victim after treating someone like complete shit "well they weren't nice to me after I said sorry"

you fucking asshole, people DO NOT HAVE TO FORGIVE YOU AFTER YOU DID THEM WRONG. the worst type of abusive ass manipulative people will fuck you over, "apologize," insult you to someone else's face when the victim doesn't accept said shitty ass "apology," and then try to make it sound like the victim got what they deserved

[bekahdoesnerdshit]

Scrawled on the first blank page of a stolen spellbook:

Day 1: Already working on a way to get you back; some rich old lady knows a way to get the magic we’re gonna need. She reminds me of that shitty “migration and language” professor you had, so you can imagine how much fun dealing with her has been.Met a weirdo in a mask who you’re gonna hate, and a little illiterate wizard who’s gonna give you a heart attack. Also been dealing with the burgermeister’s swaggering little attack dog, and you know how I prefer to deal with guys like that. I’d say you’ll hate him too, but I’m pretty sure you’re not gonna have the chance to meet him. Shame.

Stupid how quick I forgot how to not miss you. I hated you for decades, and having you back for a week was enough to ruin all that hard work. Really appreciate that, Hugh.

Day 2: Almost died today. Figured you’d want to know, so you can yell at me about it later. In fairness, it was because I was trying to be a good person. I could have just taken Kai and left, but I didn’t.…thought about doing it, though. Didn’t fucking matter in the end, but I guess I wanted you to know that too. That I tried to do the right thing. Anyway. Ireena’s dead. Turns out vampires here only know one trick; pick a fight nobody wants, kill one person, and leave. Izek’s(1) dead too though at least, so let’s count our victories where we find them. And then. And fucking then. That rich old bitch who’s supposed to help me get you back? Decided that our deal is off, because she got Strahd to do her dirty work for her. And then she had the fucking audacity to lock me up in her stupid, ugly house. I’m writing this now to keep from going to town with my crowbar in here until something happens. You’ll have to excuse me if my handwriting is shit right now; I’m fucking furious.

…I can’t believe this smug, entitled dickhead is keeping me from spending the night with you.

…I’m gonna pry up a floorboard and take a shit down there.

(1)Sorry. Izek is the ‘swaggering little attack dog’ from before. Dropped his name with a lot of confidence there before remembering I’d given exactly zero context. Thank god I had so fucking long to sit and proofread this thing tonight!

Day 3 Got screwed over for having a shred of empathy for someone who just lost someone they cared about. Started to forget that I’m the only one here who gives a shit about saving you but don’t worry: I got a swift kick-in-the-dick reminder and now my head’s back on straight. Not making that mistake again.

Strahd showed up in Vallaki which, I cannot stress enough, is not my fault. Not for lack of trying! But I didn’t get to help kill the burgermeister or hand over the anti-vampire bones. This mess is deeply, entirely, not my fault. Anyway. He made it clear that he calls the shots there now, and you know what? Say what you will about the guy, but he knows how to make a fucking entrance and command a crowd. I bet his Lang201 students never fall asleep during his lectures.

At least one good thing came of today: got to see one of the consorts(2) beat to shit and left to die. Other than that we picked up another stray (this one had a huge book of Barovian history; you know I started tearing through it immediately), fought some fucked up werewolves, and… oh yeah! Got backed into a corner and forced to waste a day helping out this random family and their vineyard, instead of going to Krezek after dropping Uke off. Like we had planned. Like I said, kick-in-the-dick reminder.

I don’t care what anyone has to say about it; I’m going to Krezk. Alone, if it comes to it. I’m not chasing after some fucking- gem, or whatever. They can figure it out on their own.

(2)Not Antonio. The one who killed Ireena, who I would have loved for you to meet. God, that would have been great. …great for me, that is. You would have hated her. And I would have loved that.

Day 4 I won’t admit that it was a fun fight. You’re going to be the only person who ever reads these, but I still won’t give them that satisfaction. As far as they get to know, I was mad to be forced to go and grumpy the whole time I was there. And to be clear; I was. Mad about it, that is. But it’s…fine. Because I’m so fucking nice, I’ll be the bigger person and let it go. We’re heading to Krezk in the morning, so at least we’re back on track.

Oh by the way, I took Dylan to get a tattoo for her last birthday. She said she wasn’t gonna tell you until she moved out, but she told me I could tell you if we ever spent twenty minutes together without fighting. She was obviously joking, but here we are. We’re well past twenty minutes, I think. It’s a little rainbow beetle on her bicep. It’s pretty cute, I think she did the sketch herself. She handled the whole thing like a champ.

Day 5 Spent most of today traveling to Krezk. Spent the rest of the day in Krezk. Great stuff.

Going to see the Abbot tomorrow. Supposedly he's the guy that can fix you, and I’m gonna knock him around until he does. See you soon, hopefully. I’m getting bored of journaling.

Day 6 Fuck them. Fucking spineless, brainless, self-righteous cowards. Sanctimonious hypocrites. Bastards.

I don’t answer to them. If they think that I’m going to bow down and let them rip this chance away from me without fighting back, they got another fucking think coming.

I’m not leaving Krezk without you. And I’ll burn the bridges I have to to make it happen.

forget he exists when you look away stay focused

writing in notebook. about us? followed us

[The writing is jumbled, scattered and hard to read]

puts thoughts in your head

Forget he exists when you look away

[Crosswritten with the previous line, illegible]

trades in secrets? knowledge? have to assume he takes it. BAD IDEA

Day 7 I didn’t write that.

No. Obviously I did. I hacked through my t’s at that annoying angle I picked up from you, and looped the l’s together in that way I picked up to annoy you. No one else has breathed on this thing in the last week. Obviously, I wrote it.

But I don’t remember doing it.

Am I going

Alright, alright. No point freaking out about it; let’s take it one step at a time. Way I see it, there’s three explanations:

Someone took and wrote in your spellbook since the last time I opened it, which was earlier this afternoon (found your weird Elder Tongue transcription by the way. You’re gonna be so mad if I crack it without you)

I’m not I’m starting to My mind isn’t reliable. Unlikely.

I wrote it, I’m right, and there’s a creepy little pervert skulking around the shadows.

Number one’s impossible, the only time your spellbook isn’t in my holster is if I’m writing in it. Leaves two and three, and between one where I’m losing my mind and I’m not, well. If there’s one brain I trust, it’s mine.

Day 8 You’ll never guess who showed his stupid, ugly face again.

Mhm. That’s right.

Y’know, I’ve been thinking about it the last few days, what I’d do when we ran into him again. I thought I might try to play it cool, not give him the satisfaction of having got to me. Get in some quips about not having to pay alimony anymore, or about getting full custody of the kids. I don’t know. But when I saw him, I just- I saw red. I didn’t hear a word out of his mouth, I just. I just shot him. And hit him. Over and over and it felt

Did it feel good? We didn’t kill him. I don’t think we came close. He almost killed Zavisza. Would have too, if Strahd hadn’t shown up to monologue at us again. He wants one of our tagalongs (both of them, technically, I guess. We gotta stop taking in strays) and instead of just letting him have the guy he wants (So sorry to see you go! Best of luck! We’ll miss you! Etc.) our stupid, self-important paladin and his dumbass little savior complex—

I can’t even put how stupid it is into words. Thank fuck I’m lucky enough that you’re going to be unlucky enough to have to sit through it with me. You’ll see. You’ll be just as annoyed as I am.

But. Apparently, there’s a scroll of Raise Dead in the ruins of a swamp town south of Vallaki. This is it, Hugh. This is- It has to be. It has to be. We’re going to go to this stupid swamp, we’re going to find this woman and take her scroll, and I’m gonna fix you.

See you soon.

Day 9 Another travel day. You should be proud of how responsible I was, even with Flips trying his hardest to get us killed by goading us on into the swamp tonight. We’re camping out here on the edge, and we’ll head in fresh in the morning. If nothing else goes wrong (one can dream), I’ll get my hands on that scroll and have you back tomorrow.

And, well. When something does go wrong, let’s at least hope it’s a quick detour. Because otherwise, we’re going back to Plan D(3).

(3)The “D” is for “De-face”, of course. Look, it made me laugh. You can lecture me about that joke being in poor taste tomorrow.

Day 10 Berez is, uh. Was, I guess. Berez was It was a shitshow. Who cares.

Almost got myself hanged when we went back to I mean. Who fucking cares.

Hugh, I’m scared. Terrified. Everything has gone wrong every step of the way to get you back, and this is going to be the same. Borris was dead when we got here, the scroll was gone. Who’s to even say it’ll actually be in this stupid tower when we get there? What if someone else has used it? Burned it? What if it doesn’t work, if resurrection just doesn’t work here? What if it does work but you come back wrong? Hurt? Broken? A rat?? What if this was all for nothing?

If I keep saying “tomorrow”, eventually I’ll be right.

[cosmicclownboy]

hi- why don't you like Maria?

Oh lord.

Where do I even begin with Maria.

Season 1

Makes a joke about Alex's secret relationship being with Wyatt and finding it funny- (Wyatt who is an abusive racist dude who commits hate crimes and bear in mind she knows Alex was abused for being gay) IT'S GROSS.

Speaks about Alex's secret relationship guy being his home to Alex and literally feels his hopefulness because it is part of her alien ability and continues to pursue Michael in s2.

Maria (straight) outs Michael to Liz. That's not okay on any level.

When Liz tells Maria to speak to Alex before doing anything she ignores the advice and does what she wants.

She's really smug about Michael picking/pursuing her like she won.

Season 2

Pursues Michael at a funeral in front of Alex without talking to him.

Makes Michael's loved ones husband funeral about a relationship status

Slut shames a random woman who makes out with Michael when they were never exclusive

Enters a relationship with Michael where he has to be exclusive but she doesn't because she doesn't believe he could be faithful. That's reeks of harmful biphobia stereotypes.

Ignores Alex the whole time UNTIL she needs something.

When she appears at Alex's door she says they are even. AKA comparing Alex not telling her a secret that wasn't his to share to her pursuing the love of his life in front of him without any empathy and ignoring the whole time.

Bitches to Alex about Liz and wanting fuck all to do with her. Alex has to remind her Liz has a dead boyfriend and is struggling cause Maria only has Maria vision and lacks empathy for her 'best friends'.

Uses her mom's laptop to get the scope on Alex/Michael's relationship which reads 100% manipulative. She even says Michael is pushing you away and then proceeds to encourage the narrative where Michael pushes Alex away because she suddenly wants Michael. And of course Alex is supportive she recognises he lacks self worth and rolls over him.

Beginning of 2x06 she tries to set up Forlex to get Alex away from Michael. Once again manipulative.

Tries to make Alex feel guilty for being gay in 206 because when she was a kid she idealised being with him and had to come up with a whole new plan. He grew up in an abusive household you know that....It's not okay to say that. You know how much internalised homophobia he has.

When saying he's had good relationships provides only examples of relationships with women......................HE IS GAY.

Asks him if he would change being gay.......jfc.

Alex tearfully saying he dissociates with women because he clearly forced himself to out of internalised phobia, Maria takes it to mean she has a chance. She thinks she's the exception since a touch starved abuse victim liked to be touched by her in high school. That doesn't = consent.

When Alex, a whole ass Airforce Captain tells her it's unsafe to stay at the creepo's place she acts all I am feminist about it and this results in Alex being stabbed and Michael getting whacked on the head.

Earlier in the episode she whinges to Alex about Michael kissing another woman in front of her and how cruel it was and then proceeds to kiss Michael in front of Alex KNOWING how he feels for Michael.

In THAT scene it's clear she notices Michael's emotions towards Alex and is insecure about it. She uses Malex's feelings for each other to her advantage. She's chasing the fantasy of getting with Alex. These are two highly traumatised queer men who struggle to say no because they spent their lives in abusive environments.

Neither Michael or Alex were in a position to consent to sex that night Michael is concussed from a whack on the head . Alex has lost a lot of blood and is completely out of it. And neither would ever initiate that situation. Not to mention the assumption Michael would be down because he's bi is so harmful as a stereotype.

"I think she’s cool with her decision. She wanted some answers, so subconsciously there was an emotional comfort she needed. But she also had a little bit of an agenda. She needed some decisions made about the status of their relationships, so she thought, “Let’s throw everything against the wall and see where it lands.” I think she was just wondering if they made any progress on that front. She said it was OK for their feelings to be out in the open, but let’s just voice them for what they are. As we saw, Michael stepped up and was like, “No, I still love you and I’m with you.” Secretly, that’s what Maria was hoping for. By suggesting a threesome, she’s was basically telling Michael, “Make your choice… and I hope it’s me.” this is what Heather said about the scene. So not only was it coercive and such but she used her best friend like that with no care or empathy whatsoever. It's disgraceful.

The next day both Michael and Alex are confused by what the fuck happened. Alex due to his C-PTSD completely dissociates from the situation and Michael attempts to laugh it off despite him being hella confused. The only person who isn't confused is Maria who is listening to them from inside.

When Michael comes in she turns on the tears just in case he does want Alex afterwards. Bear in mind she is a psychic who can feel everything and she assumed Michael was going to go after Alex. Doesn't that say it all. SHE KNOWS MICHAEL IS IN LOVE WITH ALEX AND VICE VERSA. She does not care, because at the end of the day this is what she wants. She wants to win. She wants to treat Michael like this trophy that she can show off to people I got the great Michael Guerin not a relationship guy to date me.

When Michael wants to have emotional conversations she shuts it down for sex. The entirety of the relationship it has to be her way or the high way. She also recognises fairly on his abandonment issues and plays upon it, reads manipulative.

When Michael who has lost his mom and brother in the span of a few months asks Maria to be more careful about her abilities she doesn't listen. And ultimately breaks up with Michael when she can't get what she wants from him which is a yes man who will do what she says and isn't the idealised Michael she wants.

Season 3

Shits on Michael any chance she gets. She's so mean to him and he goes out of his way to look out for her.

Is dismissive of her own health despite the fact that everybody goes out of their way to help her. Liz is in California working on a way to help her. Kyle is risking his job.etc

Is fine with Liz, her best friend losing the love of her life to get a vision to prevent a murder. A vision she's only invested in because apparently in it she blames herself.

Is fine with Max or Kyle dealing with the guilt of her death had Michael not saved her.

Shoves Michael and belittles him because he's stronger then her. Infers he just sits on his ass and does nothing therefore does not care about anything....rude. There's also a weird superiority complex that her power is more important then Michaels or any of pod squad for that matter.

Creates a situation that is so bad that Kyle risks his doctors licence to give her adrenaline. Just take an ice bath or something there are a 1000 ways to give yourself adrenaline without risking your life and risking others.

Doesn't thank or acknowledge what Liz is doing for her honey has spent a FULL YEAR of her life trying to help and your just like yeah I'll let her soulmate die for my visions.

Emotionally guilts Isobel for not hanging out with her despite the fact she's hated her for two seasons and now has just randomly decided she wants to know......okay

This idea that Maria is suddenly lonely when she's the second of the main cast (first being Kyle) to have scenes with all the mains by Monday. Literally everyone is there at her beck and call but Maria is lonely??? IT DOESN'T ADD UP. Everyone's up her arse 9/10 how is she lonely everyone expresses concern and care for her ALL THE DAMN TIME. She's also narratively never had scenes that give the connotation that she is lonely. Michael has scenes that connotate he is lonely. Max and Alex do too. Maria has yet to have scenes that give the connotation of feeling lonely or depressed.

Maria comparing the alien siblings to her and feeling left out when she acts superior to them and they are literally siblings. Literally every character is somewhat left out with Pod Squad they've lived their lives assuming it's just them three against the world it's not a personal attack.

Maria is 1/8 alien at best so diluted genetically it doesn't show up and somehow she believes she has the capability of the aliens who are 100%. Say you have French DNA you don't expect to speak French suddenly.

This whole Maria never does wrong narrative and it's empowering that she's doing all of this just feels like a crock of shit tbh.

She reads like a 2000's movie mean girl.

All of my bullet points are why I don't like h Maria and it's not biased because I'm a so and so fan. Narratively she just wins up doing shitty things to Michael and Alex the most.

[eltanin-malfoy]

Eye For An Eye (Kill Or Be Killed II)

pairing : draco/fem-collegestudent!y/n (not that romantic.. or platonic)

word count : 4.1k

warnings : angst, mentions of murder/poisoning/sex, swearing, smoking

Chapter 1

a/n : any and all feedback is highly appreciated. requests are still open! s/o to @unpeustupide for being a great editor!!!!

Chapter 2 : Eye For An Eye

He’d thought of rushing out after her as she’d been exiting before, but no, that was an awful idea. He did not need the girl assuming him to be some kind of a stalker pursuing her at night, which, after noticing her feisty nature, would likely lead to one of two negative outcomes : 1. She decides to attack him with her umbrella (he could subdue her, for sure, but his skin was sensitive, he didn’t want the bruising to stick out on him like a sore thumb for officers to identify later), or 2. She calls the police (he could attempt to knock her out if she did, but he wasn’t exactly into getting all messy that way, or in any kind of way. He was attempting to kill her with a heavy dosage of potassium chloride, to begin with. Cleanest way possible). So he headed right back to the Employee’s Only room, pouring himself a cup of black coffee and feeling smug at his own genius. Experience really is the best teacher.

Right after his shift, he’d walked home, her name on his lips. He’d whispered it a couple times, any passing stranger might’ve even thought the boy was in love with a Y/N.. but they couldn’t be more wrong, could they? He’d continued to think about her, tried to figure out where she lived, or anywhere else she spent her hours. She’s a student. He thought, puffing on yet another cigarette as he walked up the stairs to his apartment, fiddling with the edge of his coat with his free hand. A university student, right? Didn’t look like a schoolgirl to me. Wasn’t even wearing a uniform to begin with.

He stepped out onto the fourth floor, walking towards his very luxurious place of residence. Sigh. The loud hip hop music playing in his neighbour’s house pounded out as he walked across. He tossed the used cigarette butt in his fingers to the side and delved his hand into the pocket of his coat, pulling his house key out. He walked over to the last door on the floor, quickly reaching to unlock it. He stepped in and covered his left ear, flinching slightly as the pounding got even louder. He walked away from the wall he very unfortunately shared with them and quickly locked the door behind him.

He then scoped out his apartment (not.. very small, just the one bedroom, couch, sub-standard television and a tiny kitchen) to make sure there had been nothing shifted around since he’d left. A necessary precaution, since not only was his landlord notorious for being very nosy, but also venturing into a career path as risky as he was planning to was not without its many, many risks. He then walked over to his (very uncomfortable) bed, pulling off his bulky coat and pacing around a bit.

He wasn’t exactly sure what to do with the girl’s name. It was easy enough to remember it, to write it down in his notebook, to look it up on the internet (on Incognito mode, of course!)… but it wasn’t easy to figure out who she was, exactly, or what way would be easiest for him to get at her. Could just push her into oncoming traffic or something.. No need for the chemicals and everything, seen how easily she falls.  A smile crept its way onto his face as he stared out the window facing the rickety study table he’d somehow managed to buy for his apartment. He shook his head. No. No, it’s too easy. I want to see the light escape her eyes. At first, holding on like as if onto some stray rocks onto a cliff side. I want to see her fight with herself. For her to want to slip away. I want to win.

But how?

He pinched his nose bridge as his brain clouded up with thoughts. How many universities are there around here to begin with? He hesitated, sitting up straight and fiddling with the pale blonde mop of hair on his head nervously. Who’s to say she’s a student at all? Can’t just jump to conclusions like that.. could just fancy carrying backpacks. He shifted towards the side, gaze travelling over the many cracks on the wall. I don’t recall her having a backpack in the supermarket.. so, again, probably a student.

But if she’s a student, she’s got to have somebody paying her fees, right? He furrowed his brows, a bit confused. Oh come on, you can’t go soft just like that.. She’s clearly an awful person, right? All three minutes you’ve managed to see her, she’s shown off nothing but her lack of empathy. Besides, you just need to make sure she isn’t.. well connected. Just separated enough from everyone in her life for no one to notice after she’s been missing for a few weeks. Or months, if that’s possible. He knew this was for him.

Unable to make much progress in that instance, he decided to give it a break and take another fix of nicotine. He got up and eased onto his bed, reaching over into his coat to take out the same pack and his beloved lighter. He then kicked off his shoes, bringing his legs up next to himself. He quickly ignited another cigarette and got up, walking over to the table to stare at the street below. It’s almost December anyways. University final exams have been over a week or so already. She’s either still living at her dorm, which would be.. hard to work around, or has her own apartment, hopefully without a roommate. Or, her roommate may have gone home while she stayed.. or.. maybe she’s home from uni? How the fuck am I supposed to tell-

No sooner had he lit the last cigarette in the pack that all of a sudden, his neighbour actually turned off that goddamn cacophony. Somehow, the silence surprised him. W-what’s happening? It hasn’t been this quiet all fifty days since I moved in! He heard their front door opening and couldn’t help but listen in to what was going on. Not exactly his fault the walls were that thin.

“Seriously? You’re here to see me now? Do you not understand anything about boundaries?” His neighbour’s voice was.. quite loud, to say the least. It was almost louder than the awful music he chose to play at all hours of the night. “Seriously, Cormac? You haven’t returned a single call or text I’ve sent you this whole week! And the last.” The girl’s voice struck out to him like a bullet.

“Y/N, I’ve just been busy.. You know me, baby.” His voice was a bit softer this time, possibly growing afraid in front of that she-devil.

“Oh, shut up. We both know you’ve just been ignoring me. Did you really think you could end.. this by ghosting me?” Her voice rose an octave as she voiced the second part of her question.

“Well.. come on, I wasn’t ghosting you. I just.. forgot to check my messages.”

Draco could almost hear her rolling her eyes. “Just.. stop it. Do you really think I’m that daft? Goddammit! Maybe I am, can’t believe I gave you even a second of my life. You really are as big of an asshole as everyone says you are!”  

“You can’t just.. come to my house and insult me!” He exclaimed.

“You can’t just treat a girl like a used tissue paper.” She shot back.. Shit. “And I’ll bet you’d still text me in a couple of nights when you felt horny again, you bastard!”

One of them then hit the wall they shared and Draco sprung back slightly, not realising how close he’d moved in to eavesdrop on their conversation.

“Fine then, if that’s what you’d like to believe!” Cormac yelled.

“You don’t get to act like the victim, you fucking bastard. Why don’t you go cry in the lap of whichever girl you’ve slept with?” She roared and one of them paced off quickly, walking to the door.

Draco decided to follow along, but trying to come up with a way to piece together a conversation through which he could try and interrogate his neighbour so as to find out as much as possible about his ex. Wait, she bought something for a car. That means she’ll be driving out of here soon.. never mind, there is no parking lot in this sketchy neighbourhood. He shook his head, walking over to his front door, staring out of the small peephole and at the hallway in front of him. He did, in fact, manage to get a good look at this prospective victim.

“If you have a shred of self-respect, don’t you ever contact me again!!” She cried out, kicking the wall to the side of his neighbour’s door, then flinching back slightly in pain. Dumb bitch.

“I will not, you clingy bitch!” Cormac returned, which led to her bringing her palm up and smacking it across his face, leaving a red streak over his cheek. Draco had a sudden sense of deja vu, as though from a dream, or another life..

“I have nothing more to say to you.. “ She grit her teeth and began walking to the staircase, not showing any sign of weakness in that moment. ‘Cormac’ was still holding his cheek, clearly in pain after her attack. The lad even opened his mouth to say something, but decided against it. He deserved that, but, is she really always this violent? Would make it hard to take her down like that..

He quickly walked back over to his bedroom, staring out the window as he awaited her final exit. He reached over and turned off the light, realising that this would be a very good way for her to realise that he was watching her. He watched her step out, shivering slightly in the cold as she crossed her arms. He finally took the last and final puff of his cigarette, and let out a good long exhale. He tossed the cigarette butt out the window, which prompted a soft noise. Y/N turned around at this and even looked up. Her gaze somehow preemptively travelled upwards, staring at the fourth floor windows before pausing for a second at Draco’s own. She squinted slightly and stared down at the floor, before heading off again.

Damn it.

People.

He quickly headed back to his front door and peered out, smiling to himself as he caught a glance of Cormac still stood there silently, for some reason waiting for her to return. He opened the door and proceeded to lay it on thick. The Malfoys were known for being sly after all, and he kind of felt like acting for a bit, anyway.

“Hey, mate. Couldn’t help but hear what just went down.. You doing alright there?”

Cormac’s flushed a bit at this, obviously embarrassed at the way his new neighbour had come to know of him. “Hey.. I.. yeah, I’m okay. Thanks.” He paused for a second, sizing him up. Maybe he’s a little intimidated. Draco could feel how awkward it was getting and decided to take care of that himself. He walked over to his door and held out his hand for him to shake it.

“I’m Draco, some of my mates like to call me ‘Drago’, you know like dragon? Just poking at this huge fear of lizards.” Draco laughed to seem idiotic, yet ordinary. Wasn’t too hard, Cormac forced a giggle. What was he, a fucking schoolgirl? “Sorry I didn’t come to see you yet, moving has been a little tricky.”

Cormac slowly lifted his hand and shook it. “Nice to meet ya. I’m Cormac.” Yeah, I know. “When did you move in, actually? I hadn’t realised..”

“Couple months back. D’you wanna pop in for a beer? Looks like you might need one.” Cormac smirked at this.

“Could never say no to one of those.” Draco grinned and walked back over to his flat with him, opening the door and leading him in. Get him drunk. Get him talking. You can do this.

He took a deep breath.

***

A good hour of stale small talk later, Draco had enough information to have some sort of profile on her. As soon as Cormac headed out the door, Draco locked it behind him and trashed the bottles the bloke had taken upon himself to finish, while he threw out the one he’d decided to have. He decided to write everything up as quickly as possible, wanting to make sure he could get all that information on paper while it was still in his head.

Student at London School Of Business. (of course she picked the subject his father favoured the most!) Seems like she lives somewhere nearby though, wouldn’t be walking around in the middle of the night like that, not too far from campus. He even wrote ‘Ex said the only time he really liked her was when they fucked’ which Draco then decided to strike through. (Unnecessary and irrelevant to case!) Has a public Instagram profile - Oh fuck. He nearly hit follow. Wouldn’t that have been a fucking disaster. He just scrolled through all the food, frivolous spending, and countless other idiotic highlights of stupid Y/N and her stupid friends and her stupid life. He’s probably doing them all a huge favour.

But this was basically all he knew about her. Cormac was obviously uninterested in discussing his now ex, with whom he’d only been with a couple months, and would rather discuss recent soccer matches. Draco politely obliged with that, but was very, very happy to see him off when he finally decided to leave.

After writing everything up, Draco informed his manager that he’d pick up the late shift again the next day, setting out a plan to scope out his victim’s college campus and pick up on her schedule.

***

The next morning, Draco woke up bright and early to the sound of his stupid phone alarm going off. He reached over to turn it off and pulled his patchy quilt over his head, but then soon reminded himself of today’s mission. No. Not today. It’s time.

Draco had downloaded an app onto his phone last night. One that connected people happy to walk others’ dogs. Frankly, he didn’t give a flying fuck about dogs, but, he had to find a way to walk around the area without looking like a total creep. It worked. He managed to find someone nearby who wanted their beagle walked the next morning, so he reached out, and managed to arrange to pick it up at eight o’clock the next morning, which would hopefully be enough for him to make it to the campus in time for her to get there.

He was thinking of putting on a disguise too, but his plan was a bit.. immediate, so he didn’t exactly have a lot of time. He decided to skip his usual long hair routine, those expensive hair products one of the few luxuries he allowed himself to purchase. Instead, he decided to tuck his hair up behind a baseball cap. Not only was that totally uncharacteristic of him to wear, but it also seemed to perfectly mask one of his most striking features. He’d decided to go ahead and shave, however, wanting to hide any of that pale stubble that grew onto his face.

He didn’t exactly own any cosmetics, he’d thought it genuinely wasn’t for him, even after various female friends of his encouraged him to try it. Of course, before, it was also his dad who would clearly have disapproved, but even now, he didn’t understand why he would waste all that money.. in an effort to look better. I look just fine.. but.. I need to look different, for once. But, alas, there was no way for him to contour his face now and make it look even the littlest bit more pointed. No real way for him to color his skin to make him seem just a bit more tanned than he was. So, he decided to just busk it and bear it with a grin.

His clothes however, he decided to change up a bit. He didn’t own a lot of brightly colored clothing at all, and it was almost a joke among his old friends to tease him about how much he fancied wearing dark clothes. But good old Pansy, on his birthday earlier in the year, she’d taken it upon herself to brighten up his closet. She’d bought him a couple of floral patterned Hawaiian shirts, as well as a couple of multicolored sweaters. The Hawaiian shirts would look a tad out of fashion and probably even more weird out like this.. so, he settled on one of the sweaters. He even put on a pair of boxy sunglasses that would block out the greyish sapphire of his eyes.

My best features won’t be on display.. but it works for the cause, he decided, as he looked himself over in the mirror. He set his cap tight on his head and took a deep breath, walking over to his night stand to pick up his phone and wallet. Alright, time for the first step of your first mission. Don’t get too jittery. She’s just a girl. A very rude, annoying girl. He set them in his pocket and cleared up behind himself, tidying up his bed in an to attempt to shrug off his nerves.

Not to mention, stupid. He reminded himself as he stepped out.

***

He headed to his nearest convenience store after he got out, picking up a new pack of cigarettes. He lit one up to fill his insides with tar (rather than with doubt), and walked over to the dog’s owner’s place, engaging in some polite conversation and finally escorting the dog away. It was a small brown beagle, about two years old. The dog sniffed him up the moment he arrived, but Draco managed to get it out of the building without it noticing anything too weird about him.

He fixed his sunglasses one last time as he neared the campus, looking around a few times as the dog walked around and annoyed other pedestrians with its nosy snout. He checked out the map on his phone one last time before finally nearing the campus he’d been thinking about for most of the night.

He reached for yet another cigarette, but fumbled slightly, dropping the pack on the floor. As soon as he leaned down to pick it up, the goddamned dog decided to run up at someone and his leash fell out of Draco’s loose, shivering grasp. It’s the nicotine, THE NICOTINE.

The dog barked, almost in celebration, and continued across the campus, running along the lawns as Draco finally clutched the pack and ran off after him.

You’d never think something so small and annoying could be so fast. His heart began to race, almost uncharacteristically. He was an avid soccer player back in secondary school. He didn’t exactly have a low stamina. Suddenly, the dog stopped in its tracks, sniffing desperately at someone’s grey sneakers. He heard a soft giggle and froze himself, slowly looking up to lock eyes with… his own victim.

How’d this bitch managed to calm down the other? He thought to himself. She didn’t seem to recognise him, so he tried to keep up an act. She knelt down and began to stroke its head, drawing attention to her short, perfectly manicured nails. Fucking priss.

“Your dog is so cute.” She uttered, her voice all flowery and sweet for some reason. He gulped and bent slightly himself, his hands on his knees as he looked down at the mutt. “Thanks.. I agree.” He forced his voice to be a bit more gruff and raspy. Like one of those guys on WWE. She smiled and looked up at him again, almost curiously. “He’s a beagle, right?” He? “Uh.. yeah. Only two years old.” The dog made one of those soft, squeaking noises that made Draco cringe, but she looked at it with even more fondness.

“You’re such a sweet boy, so sweet.” She scratched between his ears and looked up at him again. “He really is. You’ve trained him so well.” He chuckled and felt his cheeks flush. What? You are really out of it today.“Hah.. thanks. He can be a bit annoying sometimes, though.” She just shrugged slightly. “Ah well, isn’t every boy?” She sighed, and Draco was suddenly reminded of last night’s events, which of course, this innocent dog owner knew nothing about. “I guess so.” He didn’t really know what to say at this point..

“But, you seem nice. Do you.. stay around here?” That same smile returned to her face and she fluttered her lashes. What is she doing? She just broke up with that prick last night. “I.. uh.. No.. j-just visiting a friend.”   He croaked out, reaching down and grabbing his leash. “Oh, um, alright. Nice to meet you.” She slowly stood up, smoothing out her hair. This allowed him to get a good look at what she had on : a thick purple turtleneck sweater and yet another pair of dark jeans. That same plaster from yesterday was visible through the fabric. “I should get going..” She started, looking down at the barking dog again. “Bye bye!” She waved at the animal, then up at him again, walking off. Draco did the same, albeit reluctantly.

He turned around and looked the other way, clenching his jaw. You can’t.. get friendly with your victim like that! Thank god she’s so dumb, otherwise she would’ve seen right through your shoddy disguise. The dog yipped again. Oh goddammit. He turned back towards Y/N to see her looking back at him, before flinching and walking off again. What is she doing? She didn’t recognise me. Oh fuck, or did she? She started off at a brisk pace, rounding the corner and walking to another building.

The dog decided it needed to empty its bladder, so it walked over to a brief patch of mud by the concrete to do its business. Draco followed and decided to wait at the position a few minutes, so he could continue and follow her to her first class.

Soon enough, it finished up and he lead it to a courtyard, where there were students sitting around and even perking up as they noticed the dog. Shit.. they’re just going to blow my cover.. I should get out of here. He turned to leave, pulling the dog quickly along with him.

*** Even though his trip to her university had been.. unsuccessful, he reassured himself. Thank god she feels the need to document so much about herself on social media. I’ll get more on her in no time. He headed back to the dog’s owner’s and returned it, lying and telling him he’d been an absolute angel. He rolled his eyes the instant he shut the door, quickly walking off and back to his place.

He decided to smoke a few more cigarettes in an attempt to de-stress and thought to walk down to his apartment building’s basement to kill time until his next shift. He walked past the wall of mailboxes for each of the many flats in the building and stopped as he realised there was something sticking out of his own. He didn’t have the key for it, but the haphazard way this envelope had been wedged in, it was clear he didn’t really need it. He tossed the cigarette in his hands to the side and reached to pull it out.

Careful.. He thought to himself, holding up the metal flap and drawing out the surprisingly light envelope. He wasn’t careful enough, though. The flap drew back alarmingly hard and pushed his hand out of the mailbox, leaving a slight cut on his finger. He drew his hand back and looked back at it, pressing it in an attempt to stop the slight bleeding.

He grabbed the envelope tightly in his bleeding hand and walked back up the stairs, hands in his pockets as he winced slightly in pain. He unlocked his door as fast as he could and walked inside, shutting it behind him as he walked over to his couch. He took a seat and looked the envelope over. Hmm… no return address or sender? That’s weird.

He opened it up, a small trickle of his blood down the side of the paper. He pulled out the letter, which was a single note folded in half. His fingers quickly unearthed the message inside, and he couldn’t help as the feeling of absolute shock flooded his mind, a crease furrowing in on his forehead as his eyes widened behind his dark shade.

Be careful, Malfoy. I can see you.

Chapter 3

[mysteriomanifesto]

The straw that breaks the camel’s back (1 / 2)

          Having slunk back to the deserted office space, Quentin notes the remnants of party streamers and empty red party cups on some of the workstations ( sloppy ), the developer having missed out on his team’s holiday revelries in favour of working remotely from his makeshift ‘home’ before begrudgingly accepting the invitation to the party at Avengers Tower. A folded green crown consisting of flimsy tissue paper had been placed at his personal workspace ( a consolation prize ), digits taking a hold of it to bemusedly place it upon his head ( regardless of his disinclination, he needed a bit of holiday cheer ).

                    Pensively turning it over in his hand, the encrypted drive provided by Stark is inserted into the computer, the engineer settling into the office chair as caution inevitably sets in - booting up a sandboxing environment to isolate the device, the machine is disconnected from the rest of his work network ( suspicion was a terrible thing ). Dexterous fingertips glide over the keyboard and Beck begins breezing through the multitude of digital barriers that had been setup on the device, teasing breadcrumbs seemingly laid out for the developer in a manner that only he would be able to progress through, clues that echo a number of old memories during his time at Stark Industries. He would pause to reminisce but the man’s too busy enjoying the challenge at hand, each one eliciting a broadening of his smug smile until---

          A 12 minute media file is his final prize, its date of creation and modification set to Christmas Day 2017 - a curious eye casts over the title ( AC/DC - Shoot to Thrill ) before pressing play, an inward groan arising as the heavy guitars inevitably assault his senses ( he hated the aging band with a passion ). A few boredom inducing seconds pass during which the engineer considers pausing the video when the music fades, colour emerging onto a blank screen as a familiar voice candidly addresses him.

                    “Hi...” Tony faces straight into the camera, a lopsided grin coupled with a raise of his dark brow.

          Despite the men’s awkward conversation within the last few hours burdened by avoidant gazes and terse words, for a moment ( no matter how brief ) Quentin feels as if the futurist is addressing him directly with such familiarity for the first time in years. He rambles for a short period, telltale signs of anxiety hidden behind overcompensating extroverted gestures and speech patterns ( Quentin knows when Tony's nervous ), but Beck doesn't mind, finding his uneasy expression evolving into a hint of a smile - there’s a distinct swell of emotion which he had convinced himself into thinking that he no longer possessed ( fondness was a tricky thing, given their circumstances ). And then things start to get interesting...

                    “...you’ve been looking for something. I don’t know if it’s a purpose or if it’s just some guidance but I know that you were. Nobody told me… it’s just the type of person you always were. Ambitious, driven and determined to be the best...”

          Quentin stills, the complimentary words echoing assessments of the engineer over the years from a range of mentors spanning from primary school all the way up to post-grad days. However, they were often conversely counterbalanced with negative traits that he was told to work on ( egotistical, lacking empathy, hostile when challenged... ). But there's no sign of that here, instead the brunet enjoying the sensation of having his ego stroked, basking in the reverence that he always craves ( it’s what he deserves ).

                    "...you know how much of an impression you made on my life? Regardless of the work you did for my company, but also the person you are. The type of personality you have is truly captivating and ever since that day we parted ways… there was one thing that stuck with me...”

          There’s an uncomfortable pause as Tony’s expression falls, the man reciting a few key familiar sentences that see blue eyes despondently lowering in recollection.

      ��             “This means everything to me. I’ve given my best years to its development. I sacrificed weddings, funerals and Bar Mitzvahs. But that doesn’t mean anything to you, does it?"

          Beck bites down on his inner cheek as his own words from after the MIT demo are reflected back to him, swallowing down any undesirable sense of remorse. It wasn't his proudest moment, the man having completely lost control as impulses ran into overdrive to give the billionaire a piece of his mind, supposed negligence perceived amidst heightened paranoia. Years may have passed but Beck didn't regret doing so at the expense of their working relationship - sometimes it was best to get everything out in the open to know the true intention and feelings of others ( no matter how painfully disappointing ).

                     " ...the mere fact that you thought of me as this heartless, self-centred person. I struggled with that idea for a really long time. Not only did it strike a chord, but it also made me feel like I was truly becoming my father…" 

          Quentin's brain switches off for a moment, attention diverting to a nearby bottle of nondescript amber beverage which had been idly left there ( it might be tequila? ). If this segment of the video was going to turn into another guilt-driven digression of Tony's about Howard Stark, the brunet wouldn't be above skipping it ( he doesn't care, it's boring, get over it - he had problems with his own father but he doesn’t bitch about it all the time, not repeatedly using the broken relationship as an excuse for the decisions he makes in his life - have some accountability for fuck’s sake ). Unscrewing the cap and taking a tentative sip, Beck's features twist in shuddering distaste ( yep, definitely tequila ), soon taking another swig to help take the edge off. Good timing too as the other man's self-aware spiel about the senior Stark finally draws to an end, segueing into something of more intrigue.

                    “...nobody knows about this... This was under strict supervision… On this operating system you opened, there’s only one more file. It’s a quarter of the code you wrote for your illusion technology prototype… giving you the code is going against everything my company’s lawyers swear against---"

          The video is abruptly paused with a flick of Beck’s wrist, the unwanted distraction of the bottle pushed to one side, the emergence of a second hidden file drawing his primary attention. Maybe it’s the alcohol or maybe it’s the revelation ( or perhaps a combination of both ), but Quentin can feel his heart pounding against his temples, his breath quickening as blue eyes frantically scan the reams of code embedded in the system just for him. Based on what he sees, it doesn’t feel like a quarter of the code ( considerably less ), disjointed syntax missing vital elements to tie is altogether - he notes the header comments present for each section of painstakingly prolonged algorithms ( PROPERTY OF STARK INDUSTRIES ), copyright and authorship continually stripping and omitting Beck from the list of accredited developers regardless of the futurist’s words of placation. Quentin’s fist firmly clenches around the ergonomic mouse being used at the terminal, audible strain suddenly evident as one of the embedded buttons pops out of place.

                    “But I can’t hold onto something that was never truly mine. It might be a quarter, but that’s a start, right? I’ve fought tooth and nail to get everything back to you and I was told only under extreme circumstances would they allow it… So, the day I die, you get everything you’ve worked for, back. Could be tomorrow, could be in 10 years. But on that day you can have everything back. If this is not what you wanted from me---”

          Quentin had stopped listening several sentences ago, an eerie blankness to his expression that sees him slowly blink, soon stopping the video entirely - desperately scrolling back to the beginning, he watches it again. Twice. Thrice. More time is divulged poking and prodding at the inner workings of the encrypted device for hours to come ( maybe he had missed something? ), hoping to find something else that would ease this growing disquiet sensation. There’s nothing else, the man forgetting to breathe at regular intervals in his steadily flourishing rage, a pocket of air trapped at the back of his throat as his visage grows increasingly incensed.

                    Taking a hold of his phone to delve into his list of contacts while adjusting his headset, Beck’s thinly veiled resolve completely crumbles and something finally snaps.

[ PART 2 ]

[darkdoings]

— Sadistic Enigmas: 3

Note: Finally done and I apologize a million times over for the delay! Some possible triggering content to be aware of is an attempt at rape, profane language, and bloodplay. Again, I am thankful for the positive feed back and support I have gotten on each segment of this short story. All constructive criticisms are still welcomed and if you see a mistake please let me know so that I can fix it straight away! Enjoy! :)

                    An extended period of time had passed since your intimate encounter with the Night Stalker and you considered that the time apart was a period of peace. You had avoided your dependence on drugs to help counter your varying levels of stress and you had even taken to healthier alternatives to coping with your anxieties. Even when you had discovered a handwritten note from the Night Stalker in your mailbox, you were not troubled and you instead found yourself looking forward to the inscribed details of the message he had left for you. He had apologized for not paying you a visit sooner and swore on Satan in his letter that he would visit you the night of the day you received his letter. In the Post Scriptum sanction of his letter, he had requested for you to wear something appealing and you could not help but splurge on a piece of pleasant attire to satisfy your serial killer lover.

                      In front of a slender mirror, you stared at your flattering physique that was delightfully adorned in a black lace set of lingerie and you had decided he would enjoy it as much as you did. You wanted to keep it a surprise for him, however, by wearing a dress over top of the lingerie that matched well with the black stockings. After the sun had set, you could barely conceal your excitement and to pass the remaining time before his arrival you sat in your lounging room with a book in your hands. You read the words but you were not attentively following the story as you could have been because you kept glancing up at your windows in the hope of seeing him sooner. Finally, your doorbell chimed and echoed throughout your home.

                      You excitedly leapt off of the couch; dropped your book onto the floor; and briskly scurried towards the entrance door to your home. Around the chilled door handle, your nimble digits grasped the metallic surface and twisted the knob while simultaneously opening the door to reveal a silhouetted figure. Your eyes required a moment to adjust to the darkness outside and once you could properly view your visitor you noticed an uncharacteristic attribute about the guest you believed to be the Night Stalker.

                      “That’s new.” You commented with a smirk and while reaching out to touch the ebony mask that concealed the visage of your visitor, “Being extra cautious with a—“

                      Without having the opportunity to conclude your keen observation, the masked man had transitioned from a welcomed guest to a vicious assailant who was unknown to you and in an abrupt movement he had hit you over the head. You were hit hard enough that you did not recall descending to the floor and as you motionlessly lay the intruder hastily invited himself inside. In his haste, the man made sloppy work of securing the entrance and as a result he left your door slightly ajar so that a possible passersby could come to your rescue.

                      The faceless man’s advances on you continued and in your state of disorientation you could do little to fight back. You watched as his shadowy physique straddled you at the waist and he attempted to garner your attention my gripping your chin to force you to look at him. While you came out of your painful daze to listen to his words, he marveled at your appearance and he shamelessly bragged about the intentions he had for you. You were forced to listen to the intruder’s desires for you inside of the walls of your home and just outside of your home the oblivious Night Stalker took his time walking up the cobblestone pathway to meet with you as he had planned.

                      Upon seeing your door left open ajar, the Night Stalker paused in his steps outside of your home and he wolfishly smirked as he rationalized your slightly opened door as a sign of your eagerness to meet him a third time. He began to ponder a way he could theatrically enter your home – possibly by using a window instead – but his thoughts were cut short once the shriek of a terrified woman filled the warm air. The Night Stalker immediately recognized the voice as belonging to you and his long legs abruptly propelled him forward to infiltrate your home to investigate the reason for your screams of terror.

                      Still unable to escape the advances of the intruder, you began to violently thrash your body in an attempt to fight off the man and to slow the progression of his cravings you began to scream. By the good graces of Satan Someone had heard your screams and you watched as a second intruder discreetly stalked up behind the attempted rapist. Your eyes widened once seeing the glinting of a familiar blade being pulled out of the pocket of the second intruder and you closed your eyes to avoid watching the inevitable. Within seconds, the sound of blood spluttering resounded and a warm, crimson liquid spilled out from the rapist’s sliced neck onto your torso.

                      The Night Stalker had murdered the initial assailant and he proceeded shoved his dying body off of you so that he could die a pitiable death on the cold floor where he belonged. You did not linger to watch the man die and as soon as his weight was shifted off of your body you crawled several feet away. When the shock had finally settled in, you ceased all physical movement and remained on all fours while retching, sobbing, & breathing in inconsistent gasps. The murder had become the most nauseating experience you had ever endured and the Night Stalker showed little remorse for your eruption of emotions. He had decided you were ruining the kill for him and to savor what little enjoyment of his that remained he approached you with ferocity in his eyes as tears filled yours. As you sobbed on your knees the Night Stalker coiled his long, gloved fingers around your biceps and he hauled you to your feet while aggressively pushing you against a wall.

                      “Shut up.” He hissed and you yelped as he tightened his grip on you, “You keep up this bitching and someone is going to call the police. Shut up.”

                      Astonished by his lack of empathy, you were successfully rendered silent and when he was satisfied with your compliance he released you & created space between both of your bloody forms. He took one more look at the mess you had become, chuckled, and left you against the wall as he nonchalantly jaunted into your kitchen towards your fridge. Short breathes continued to escape you as the adrenaline was leaving your system and you peered around the wall you stood against to watch what he was doing. You were surprised to feel animosity brewing within you while he rummaged through your refrigerator for something to consume while you were in a clearly damaged state — physically and mentally.

                      The Night Stalker returned several moments later with a bottle of soda and he proceeded to ignore your entire being as he walked past you to sit on a piece of furniture. Your blood had begun to boil at his carelessness for you, the dead man on the floor, and the overall state of your home. A faint & short hissing sound broke the silence of the room once he unscrewed the cap of his drink and it was quickly followed up with the sound of him swallowing the contents thrice. You took advantage of his negligence by shuffling towards the dead man’s body and reaching to grab the blade that was still protruding from his neck. With the lustrous weapon sitting in the palm of your hand, you rose to your feet at an even pace and you fiercely glared at him.

                      “Get out of my house. Get out of my life. Get out of California.” You muttered in a cold whisper while pointing at your door.

                      He tilted his head and a smug smirk manifested on his face, “I thought I told you to shut—“

                      “Get the fuck out!” You shrieked loudly and suddenly pointed the knife at him.

                      The act of defiance that you had displayed was enough to make his smirk disappear from his visage and through the cowl of darkness you could see his jaw tighten as he clenched his teeth together. He was angry and you had made the reckless mistake of underestimating his anger. With the blade still pointed at him, he stood from where he had been sitting and he grasped the glass bottle of soda by the thinnest section before rotating his wrist to empty the remaining contents onto your floor. He then smashed the opposite end of the bottle on the hard surface of a nightstand so that shards of glass laid amongst the spilled liquid and for opposite end of the bottle to have several sharpened ends. With one foot in front of the other, he stepped over the glass and he approached you with his makeshift, glass weapon in hand.

                      In an attempt to diffuse his anger, you began to talk him out of the bloodthirsty plans he may have had in mind, “ . . . You cannot hurt me. We have a deal with Satan, remember. If you wanted me dead, you should have let that human filth finish me off.”

                      “You don’t get it, do you? I couldn't let him bring harm to you.” He reassured while scowling down at you, “This is my territory, you are my territory. He infringed on my territory and he had to pay for it and he did pay for it. I didn’t save him because I care about you or because you may think you are special to me. I made this my territory, I made you my territory — I do not share my fucking territory.”

                      Visibly, you had been trembling subsequent to his jurisdictional warning and as a result you both new that he had prematurely ended the standoff. He was thoroughly satisfied that his words were able to render you silent once again and while the pair of you stood in silence his dark eyes wandered off to your quivering hand holding the blade. An idea had began to take form in his mind and just like the ideas he had before he knew he would have absolute obedience from you once again.

                      “And now look at you, threatening me after I saved your life.” The Night Stalker accused and situated himself so that the tip of the knife that you desperately clung to was touching his firm chest, “If you have it in you, kill me now. But I suspect that without my help you will have a hell of a time covering up my mess over there. By the looks of it, you will be seeing the inside of a jail cell long before I ever will. Your choice.”

                      You hated to admit it yourself; however, you needed to admit that he was right. Without the Night Stalker to assist you, the evidence of the crime looked damning and without a proper cover-up it would appear as if you killed a man in cold-blood. You lowered your hand that held the blade and you dropped the bloodied blade to the floor as a sign of your immediate surrender & obedience.

                      “Then help me so that we can be done with this.”

                      The Night Stalker hesitantly nodded in agreement, “You can get away with claiming you were a victim of an attempted rape and you fought off your intruder which resulted in having to kill him out of self-defense. Killing is killing but out of ‘self-defense’ it seems like an ‘okay’ thing to do in the eyes of the public. Are you following along?”

                      “Yes.”

                      “Then take off your dress. This scene we are going to create needs to be of an attempt at rape. We will stage it so he tore your clothes off and fell back onto the torn fabric once ‘you killed him’.”

                      The request he was asking of you instantaneously reminded you of the lingerie you were wearing underneath the dress and given the drastic turn of events throughout the night it became a little embarrassing for you to be wearing lingerie. You could feel your cheeks heat up with blush and you mentally thanked the darkness for concealing your rosy cheeks from the deranged Night Stalker. As a result of your delay, he extended his hand to prompt you a second time to remove your dress and in response to his beckoning you shook your head,

                      “That does not make sense. Even if I would have killed him myself, I would have still gotten his blood on me regardless. This step is for your gratification, only.”

                      “Listen to me, there needs to be a sign of struggle. This is how were are doing it.” He explained to further assert his methods.

                      “ . . . Fine. But wait here.”

                      You could hear him exhale through his nostrils with clear impatience and despite his irritation you took a few steps away & rounded the corner of the wall you stood against. From around the corner, you pulled your dress up and over your head to reveal your lingerie-decorated physique. You then reached around the corner to hand him your dress and he hesitantly took it from your hand.

                      “Don’t bother putting on new clothes.”

                      “Why?”

                      “Because we are not done yet. And I don’t know why you are hiding. Sooner or later, I will have to see you. No point in delaying what is inevitable.”

                      The worst part of the entire ordeal was having to agree with everything he was requesting of you; he was the expert on such dark matters as this and you knew you needed to oblige if you were going to come out of this as an innocent victim. Shortly after the Night Stalker took your dress from you, you waited silently and listened as he tore the fabric of your dress to make it seem like you had it torn from off of your body. You took this short span of time to build up your confidence and as his back was turned to place the remains of your dress beneath the dead body, you crept around the corner to rejoin him. It made you feel uneasy seeing how he was emotionless around a dead body and you secretly commended him on his sinister bravery.

                      By time he turned around to face you, your arms had been crossed along your chest as a show of timid embarrassment and he quirked a brow upon seeing you dressed in a sensual style. His expression displayed clear amusement and also intrigue while he tried to reason out why you had been wearing an expensive set of attractive, black lace undergarments. As he approached you and analyzed every angle of your body as if you were a piece of art in a museum, you eventually distracted him from further scrutinizing you by speaking,

                      “What’s left to do?”

                      “Put up a struggle.”

                      At first, you expressed obvious signs of confusion and when he ascended his right hand that was still tightly clasped around the neck of the previously shattered soda bottle you finally pieced together the second step of his plan. You knew that a woman of your stature would have not been able to fight off a masculine predator and without needing to offer your permission the Night Stalker began to select divisions of your flesh that he was most enthusiastic about carving into. The first location he selected was just below your neck and without providing you a moment to prepare yourself for the first incision he glided a sharp, glass edge along your skin. His free hand traveled to the back of your scalp and with a fistful of your locks of hair he pulled your head back which roused a gasp to escape past your lips. It was apparent he intended to derive as much pleasure as he could out of etching scratches into your flesh and he began to whisper sweet nothings as he watched a miniature river of your blood trickle down your chest & along the valley between your breasts.

                      He suddenly released the handful of your hair and detoured his hand from the back of your head to the front of you face where his thumb & index finger took hold of your chin. With a decent amount of pressure applied, the Night Stalker tilted your head to the side and upon feeling the coolness of the glass slicing along your cheek you bit down of your bottom lip to mute any further sounds of discomfort. He delighted in seeing you make attempts at masking your suffering and decided to present you with a temporary moment of solace by turning our head back to face him so that he could press his lips to yours. Surprisingly enough, locking your lips together provided you with enough distraction that you had barely felt the Night Stalker glide the sharp edge of glass along the curvature of your spine next. Your warm blood from the freshly embedded wounds drastically contrasted with your quickly paling skin and on sensing your impending weariness as a result of your physical exertions he reassured you that only one more incision was necessary.

                      To support you through your tiring loss of blood, his free arm snuggly wrapped around your waist to keep you balanced and he then took his final position behind you. His chin rested on your shoulder and your lids fluttered shut over your eyes as he concluded by engraving a slice along your midsection to complete your bloodied canvas of flesh. By the end of it, you still remained webbed within his slender arms and he explained he would stay with you for an additional few minutes to ensure you would not slip into unconsciousness before you had the opportunity to call the police. He held you close to his frame and together the pair of you sank to the floor to rest . . . mostly for your sake & well-being.

                    With your back against his chest, you leaned against him and you rested your head on his shoulder which he used to his advantage so that he would kiss your bloodied cheek. You cringed at the sudden contact he had with your facial wound and he chuckled sadistically at your reaction while he proceeded to lick the residue of your blood off of his full lips. Soon after his brief attempt at expressing affection, his attention turned back to the plan and he passed onto you the broken glass bottle with instructions following thereafter,

                      “Make sure your prints cover the glass, it is the defining moment of your self-defense. Just tell the cops you were hanging out on your couch with a drink in hand and a madman broke in. Make sure they know you smashed the bottle so that you had a weapon to defend yourself.” The Night Stalker articulated while allowing his gaze to wander off to the dead man’s body situated on the floor mere meters from where you both sat, “Then insist a fight followed; tell them it was your life or his. Express that you got pretty beat up and they’ll feel sympathy for an injured, pretty girl.”

                      You nodded in agreement and instead of replying in response to the topic, you asked him a question that was burning in your mind, “Did you mean what you said about ‘territory’?”

                      “I am a killer, not a liar. A liar can pretend to love, I can’t.” He simply answered and as if he was bothered by the question he paused to stand up before continuing on again, “Maybe I’d consider you as something more if I wasn’t who I am. But because I am who I am, don’t get too attached. You’ll be setting yourself up for disappointment.”

                      Consequently, the answer he gave to your inquiry stung and you considered yourself a fool for ever expecting a different answer out of him. You sat alone on the floor in silence as he made his way to your front door and before his departure he took one last look at the man he had murdered. A sinister expression contorted his visage and he appeared truly satisfied with his bloody deeds. He had one foot out the door and just as he was leaving you caught sight of his bloodied knife on the floor not too far from you. Without hesitation, you crawled to the blade and cried out for the devil himself to wait,

                      “You are forgetting your knife!”

                      “Keep it.” He called back to you while he continued to walk down the pathway away from your home, “I might come back for it later.”

                      You scoffed at the carelessness of his answer and shortly after he had vanished into the shadowy overcast of the night you pushed yourself to your feet to put an end to the night’s fiasco. While you were still adorned in your blood-saturated lingerie, you calmly tucked the Night Stalker’s blade away into a drawer and you waited by your phone for several minutes before dialing the police. You purposely elapsed time so that he would have enough time to escape the area and exit onto the nearby freeway to make it possible for him to evade the authorities. Whether or not he was serious about returning for his weapon, you knew you still had to uphold your swear on Satan and as a result you had single-handedly let the dangerous killer slip away once again.                                                                      —— Do you ever feel ashamed? Do you even feel a thing?