7. Gage

7

Iwatch her through the cameras, grinning. She's been jumpy all day, constantly looking over her shoulder, searching for me in the shadows. I can see the paranoia on her face and how her eyes dart nervously as she rushes out of work since I hacked the CCTV cameras at the grocery store.

For now, I'm blind. I tried hacking the security cameras around the town, but it was beyond my capability.

After fifteen agonizing minutes, she enters her apartment, locking the door and resting her back against it with her eyes shut. Once she calms down, she shuts the curtains and checks the locks on her windows—as if they could keep me out. Foolish girl. She doesn't realize I'm already inside, watching her every move. The cameras give me a perfect view of her as she falls onto the sofa.

Last night, I couldn't sleep, so I raided Phoenix's stash of cameras and returned to set them up while she slept. Phoenix is the tech whizz at the carnival but rarely leaves his trailer.

Getting into her apartment was shockingly easy, as her locks aren't very good quality. And then I returned to my trailer and watched her sleep all fucking night.

I recline in my chair, my gaze fixed on the screen. My dark side relishes the fear radiating off her in waves.

As the light begins to fade, I know I've got to get to work. But that doesn't mean I'll stop watching. I pull out my phone and open the app that streams the footage from her apartment. Now, I can observe her while working, my gaze never leaving her for a moment.

The voices in my mind whisper their approval, urging me to take things further. They want me to break her, to shatter that fragile innocence and mold her into something beautifully broken. And I will.

But for now, I'm content to watch and savor the anticipation that builds with each passing moment. She's mine to play with, torment, and tease until she's begging for mercy.

I fix my mask into place, the rubber settling over my features like a second skin. With a last glance at the computer screen, I shut it down and rise from my chair, stretching my muscles before heading out of my trailer.

Walking through the crowds, the usual thrill of the hunt is absent. Normally, the prospect of selecting a victim and unleashing terror would set my blood on fire, but tonight, I'm distracted.

Aurora consumes my thoughts.

Her name dances through my mind. I discovered it on a bill left carelessly on her kitchen table when she went to work. It suits her, a name that evokes the ethereal beauty of the dawn, the opposite of the darkness within me.

I move through the carnival on autopilot, my body going through the motions of scaring and intimidating, but my heart isn't in it. The screams and laughs of the carnival goers barely register, drowned out by the constant loop of her name in my head.

Aurora. Aurora. Aurora.

The monster within me growls in frustration, urging me to focus on the hunt, to satisfy the bloodlust that gnaws at my soul. But for once, the craving for blood pales compared to the all-consuming need for her.

I shake my head, trying to clear the fog of obsession, but it's useless. She's under my skin, a fever I can't sweat out.

Cade's voice cuts through the din of the carnival, snapping me out of my thoughts. "Hey, Gage! Where have you been all day? I've been looking all over for you."

I turn to face him, my eyes narrowing behind the mask. Normally, Cade's presence is a welcome respite from the constant chatter of the other carnies. Tonight, however, his question grates on my nerves.

Fixing him with a cold, unwavering stare, I don't speak. The muscles in my jaw clench as I fight the compulsion to lash out, to tell him to mind his own motherfucking business.

Cade shifts uncomfortably under my gaze, his brow furrowing in confusion. "You alright? You seem a little off."

Stepping forward, my imposing frame looms over him. The shadow within me stirs, whispering its displeasure at being interrupted, at having to deal with Cade's prying.

"I'm fine," I grunt. "Just had some things to take care of."

Cade nods slowly, his eyes searching mine through the holes in my mask for any hint of what those "things" might be. But he won't find anything. I've perfected the art of keeping my true nature hidden, of presenting a blank, unreadable mask to the world.

"Well, if you need anything, you know where to find me," Cade says, his tone cautious.

I give him a curt nod. "I know."

Turning around, I stalk away, my long strides carrying me through the crowds. All the while, I sense Cade's eyes on me.

Cade's question echoes in my mind like an irritating buzz. The darkness inside me churns, frustrated by the interruption, by the constant need to maintain this facade of normalcy. I want nothing more than to return to my surveillance of Aurora.

I scan the faces around me and spot a disheveled man stumbling toward the forest's edge. Perfect. My rage is building and I need a fucking outlet. His clothes are tattered and filthy, and he's clutching onto a bottle of cheap booze. A homeless drunk, wandering where he shouldn't. Someone who won't be missed.

The monster stirs, sensing an opportunity. My pulse quickens and my muscles tense in anticipation. Without a second thought, I change course, following the man as he staggers into the tree line.

The sounds of the carnival fade away, replaced by the rustling of leaves and the snap of twigs under feet. The man doesn't notice me trailing him, too far gone in his drunken haze.

As he moves deeper into the forest, he's oblivious to the danger stalking him. I move silently, my footsteps muffled by the soft earth. The darkness rises, eager for the taste of blood.

I close the distance between us, my breathing slow and steady. The man pauses, leaning against a tree as he fumbles with his zipper, trying to take a piss. The stench of sweat and the reek of alcohol assaults my nostrils, but I push past it, focused solely on the task at hand.

As he finishes relieving himself, I strike. My hand clamps over his mouth, stifling his startled cry. I yank his back against my chest, my other arm snaking around his throat in a chokehold. He struggles feebly, his movements sluggish.

I tighten my grip, feeling his windpipe constrict beneath my forearm. Before he loses consciousness, I release my grip on his throat, letting him slump to the ground in a gasping, wheezing heap. He clutches at his neck, his eyes wide with terror and face a purple shade as he stares up at me. The darkness inside me loves his fear, drinking it in like a fine wine.

I reach into my pocket, my fingers curling around the hilt of my knife. The blade glints in the moonlight as I pull it out, the sharp edge catching the drunk's eye. He scrambles backward.

"P-please," he stammers, his voice hoarse. "Don't hurt me. I-I have nothing."

I tilt my head, studying him. The mask hides my face, but I know he can feel the weight of my gaze, the cold calculation behind it.

"You have something I want," I say, my voice low. "Your fear."

I take a step forward, holding the knife at my side. His eyes dart from the blade to my mask, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He tries to crawl away, but his limbs won't cooperate, his body sluggish from the alcohol and lack of oxygen.

I crouch beside him with the knife hovering inches from his face. He flinches away, whimpering. The darkness inside me purrs with satisfaction, savoring the terror that rolls off him in waves.

"Do you know what I am?" I ask. "What do I do to people like you?"

He shakes his head frantically, tears streaming down his face. "N-no, please. I don't...I don't know anything."

I lean in closer. My demons have taken over now. "I lurk in the shadows," I breathe. "The monster that haunts your nightmares."

I press the flat of the blade against his throat, watching his pulse jump beneath the cold steel. His body is trembling like a leaf in the wind.

"And you, my friend," I continue, my voice almost gentle, "are my plaything tonight."

Fear turns to pure terror and I feed off it. His wide eyes dark between my mask and the surrounding forest. A whine escapes his cracked lips. It's music to my ears.

The voices in my head are louder in their approval, urging me to savor this moment. Urging me to drink in his terror before ending his pathetic existence. I tilt my head, studying him like a cat toying with a mouse before delivering the killing blow.

"Please..." he croaks, his voice hoarse with fear. "I won't tell anyone, I swear. Just let me go."

I chuckle, the sound muffled by the mask. "Let you go?" I ask, my tone laced with amusement. "Where's the fun in that?"

The voices are screaming now, pushing me further into insanity. I know that this bloodlust stems from trauma buried so deep I wouldn't know how to dig it out. I press the blade harder against his throat, drawing a thin line of crimson. His body goes rigid.

The darkness roars, reveling in the hunt, in the thrill of the kill. I can feel it clawing at my insides, desperate to be unleashed, to taste the warm gush of blood.

"You've wandered into my domain. The shadows are my playground; you're just another toy for me to break."

The drunk's eyes widen further, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "P-please," he begs, his voice barely a whisper.

The monster within me snarls, its claws digging into my soul, demanding to be set free. The hunger for violence consumes me. My grip tightens on the knife, my knuckles turning white with the strain.

He opens his mouth to beg again, but I silence him with a sharp jab of the blade, piercing the soft flesh of his cheek right into his mouth. He screams, the sound muffled by the blood that bubbles from the wound.

"Shhh," I coo. "No more begging. It's time to embrace the darkness."

The blade glints in the moonlight as I raise the knife. The drunk tries to scramble away, his movements frantic and desperate, but it's useless. I'm on him in an instant, my weight pinning him to the ground.

The voices in my head reach a fever pitch, their shouts of encouragement fueling my movements. The monster inside takes over my psyche as I let myself fall and bring the knife down over and over, slicing through flesh and muscle with ease. His screams are music to my ears, a symphony of agony that sends shivers of satisfaction down my spine.

The darkness consumes me, blotting out everything but the thrill of the kill and the intoxicating scent of blood. I lose myself in the blade's rhythm, each strike fueled by the dark hunger that gnaws at my soul.

And through it all, the voices speak their perverted prayer, their words a siren song that guides me deeper into the abyss.