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CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

BELLA

The sun beats down on me through my closed eyelids, giving me an instant headache, as I lay on the cold, hard ground. There’s no Nico. That was only my mind, giving me the comfort I desperately needed. I don’t believe in ghosts, so I know it wasn’t really him, although right now I wish it was.

What was different about last night that made me not only hear him, but see him, and feel him? Was it killing a man? Shit, the man.

I have no idea what to do with him, but at least he’s in a graveyard. And I doubt anybody comes out here often. Nico should be buried already. Is he here?

Opening my eyes, I climb to my feet and search for his grave. Is that why I feel him here so strongly? Walking through row after row of graves, I don’t find him. Maybe they have more than one cemetery. They certainly have enough money to do that. Most of the graves’ death dates are old. The newest is 1950. So maybe this is an old one, and they have a new one somewhere. Some place I’ll never find.

“Nico!” I scream, but there’s no response, and I know what I have to do. Kill . Even from beyond the grave, he’s trying to turn me into a serial killer like him. I’ll do anything to see him again. Even take another life if I have to.

I sit on the ground with my back toward the dead guy, and with my phone in my hand, and think. Once I have a plan somewhat in place, I say goodbye to Nico.

“I’m sorry. I wish you were here with me. I’ll see you tonight, I hope.”

After taking a shower, I dress in my favorite black lingerie. A corset and matching panties. The dating site I found, Sexcapades, requires a profile photo, and this is probably the best way to reel people in. I know it’s wrong. Taking lives is not okay, but I’ll do anything to lie in his arms again like I did last night, even if it’s only in my mind. I’m not crazy. I’ve decided that, because I think crazy people don’t know shit is only in their head, and I absolutely do. Nico is gone, but I will do whatever I need to hold on to a piece of him. Even an imaginary one.

I snap the picture and post it, with mostly false information.

Name: Michele

Age: 20

Sexual Preference: Bi-Sexual

I cackle at myself because I’m not bi-sexual, but most men have a fantasy of two women together, so that might interest them a little more. It takes less than ten minutes for the messages to start coming in. I respond to Steven first, and ask him to email me off the app, because I want to find out more about him before making my selection. It takes a while, but I finally find the one I want. I’m not like Nico. I don’t have an interest in killing for no reason. If I don’t find anything on a criminal internet search, I’ll move on. Guaranteed, on a site like this, I’ll find some bad men, and those are the ones I want the most. I get what I need, and I’m doing the world a favor at the same time. Guilt free killing.

Once I start talking to them about their fantasies, they are like an open book. A guy that thinks he can fuck a woman, and do whatever he wants to her, is rather forthcoming. Finding out their names means I can look up mugshots, as well as arrest information.

Shaking my head, I stare at Michael’s most recent mugshot. How did they let this asshole out of prison? Rape of a minor should be a lifetime sentence, or death. I giggle to myself. Sorry, Michael, you’re about to be re-sentenced.

After telling him he could do anything he wanted to me, at the location of my choosing, he was like putty in my hands. I have an hour to sew a pocket to hold a knife under my dress, just in case I need it. Thank you, tenth grade sewing, that I was sure I’d never use.

I pull on my dress for the evening, a light blue halter dress that falls to the middle of my thigh. It’s important I have full use of my arms without restrictions, so even though I may be a little chilly, that’s the way to go. Grabbing my phone, I take a moment to look at Nico’s picture I screenshotted earlier.

“I miss you, and I’m mad at you. How dare you carve your name into my ass, and then leave me? I know it’s my fault, but I’m still angry. I need you, Nico. Look what I’ve become, all because of you. How many people will I kill, before I can live without your voice? Your touch? Your imaginary eyes on me? Maybe it never ends.”

Nico Bonetti changed me. I’ve always been somewhat damaged, but he solidified it, and I’d rather live in some fantasy world concocted by my brain, than in the real world where he doesn’t exist.

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