9. Wes

Chapter nine

Wes

A cloud of smoke surrounds me as I exhale the last drag from my cigarette. The nicotine calming the urges that are coursing through my body. I watch her from the shadowy corner of the fire escape of her tiny apartment. My girl, well, soon to be my girl. I’ve been watching her for three months now and it’s time we finally meet. Trying to devise a plan that puts me in her path has been the only issue.

From the window, she’s dancing around her apartment, some metal band is blaring through her stereo speakers. I cringe, this band sounds like a pig getting stuck with a knife, annoying squealing sounds. Now, I’m a fan of many styles of music, but this is just fucking awful. I know Ma Petite Mort has better taste than this. After the song ends, thank fuck , she gets ready for bed. It’s already two in the morning.

Her apartment above the pizza shop is fantastic because she has no neighbors. The upper floor of the building being her little studio apartment and the owner’s storage. An absolute fucking dream, if you ask me. No one to hear her screams. Oh, she’ll scream. She’ll scream so loud that people down the street will know my name. I watch as my girl downs about five shots of vodka and then lays down on her bed, and I patiently wait for her to pass out.

I’m not gonna lie it stresses me out to watch her binge drink, night after night. I know something is wrong, something she’s hiding from the world. I intend on finding out what that is and eradicating the problem from her life.

After waiting for over an hour, and making sure there is no movement inside, I pull up the window in the main living space. My boots touch the hardwood floor and make a creaking sound. She’s lying on the bed in the back of the apartment. Nothing. Layne’s such a hard sleeper once the alcohol is in her system. With the place so quiet, I can hear her deep breathing and her soft snores.

What I would give to hear it stop momentarily with my hands wrapped around her throat. Watching her shatter while my cock’s buried, deep inside her pussy. I’m ravenous for her and I haven’t even had her yet. Every single part of me wants to hear her scream my name.

I cross the room to the bed, purposefully making noise, hoping she’ll wake up and find me hovering over her. I get off on the fear that my victims put off, and while she isn’t my “victim,” her fear would be the best kind of drug. As I look over her body, I take in the sight of her curves and I groan as my cock thickens against my zipper. I’m not into somnophilia, but fuck, I would fuck her while she slept in a heartbeat.

Despite the echoing sound of my zipper, she doesn’t wake up. I pull my cock out and start stroking. My free hand finds her ass cheek, gliding my fingertips across. Over the past three months, I’ve become more reckless in my encounters with her. From sitting in the corner, to edging myself while I let my fingers graze her soft skin. My need for her is at its breaking point. She shudders and I stop, my other hand still inching me closer to the release I know I won’t let myself have. She shifts to where she is lying on her back .

Ma Petite Mort choking on vomit is the last thing I want. I’m the only one allowed to take her life. I quickly get myself to the edge of coming. Then stop, and take a minute to regain control, panting, then shove my cock back in my jeans.

Gently, I shift her so that she is lying back on her side. She doesn’t even notice that it’s a pair of hands helping her move. As I get a view of her ass again, I’m tempted to edge myself again. I know if I do that though, I’ll definitely come. Instead, I pull out the piece of paper with my note scrawled on it. I place it next to her glasses on the bedside table. Along with an unopened bottle of water and a pain reliever.

A thoughtful stalker.

I whisper to her, “Next time, Ma Petite Mort . I’ll be so deep inside you, you’ll never get away from me.”

She shifts and cuddles her body pillow and drifts deeper into sleep. Climbing out of the window onto the fire escape landing, I glance behind me and watch as her chest rises and falls, full of life. I pull the window down and slide down the ladder. Exiting the alley, I light up another cigarette.

Time to release these urges.

It takes a few minutes to get back to my car. Always parking it far from the pizza shop so I don’t get caught, the walk back helps keep me focused. The chill of the bay creeps around me. My girl lives too close to the water, in a not-so-safe area. She doesn’t have to worry, though. I’ll scare away all the “bad” guys. The only monster that gets to haunt her is me.

I climb into my car and fire up the engine. It roars to life, surely pissing off the residents of the neighborhood. Its low rumble from the cam fills the street, as I pull away from the curb. The GPS on my phone has the tracking pin for my victim, Samuel Baker. Out on parole, Samuel is supposed to be staying away from children. He hasn’t been. Samuel has been cruising the middle school in his area every day for the past week. Recently, he’s had his eyes set on a particular young girl. I’ll keep her safe from him. It’s time to put an end to this piece of shit.

Outside Samuel’s rundown house on the outskirts of the tenderloin, I wait as I grab the energy drink from the cup holder and pound it. I’ll require some serious sustenance once I’m done.

I wonder how the pizza is in the joint under my girl’s apartment?

The hours pass and right on schedule, Samuel appears on his front porch at four-fifty. Only today he won’t be making it into his shitty corporate job. I get out of the car, and open my trunk, ready to drop him in. Crossing the street, I stealthily climb up the front steps. The early morning darkness conceals me as I walk up the porch. Nevertheless, I pull my mask down and throw my hood up.

The piece of shit doesn’t even notice someone behind him, making this even easier. Taking the syringe out of my pocket filled with ketamine, I shove the cap back in my pocket. Grabbing him in a chokehold, I plunge the needle into his jugular. He slumps back and I shift him so I can fireman carry him down to the trunk. His body makes a satisfying thud as I drop him in.

Don’t worry San Francisco, just your friendly neighborhood vigilante here to protect your kids from pedophiles.

It takes no time to drive to the warehouse. I pull through the gate, and hop out to lock it. Yesterday, the gate stopped working, and now I have to get out and close it. Inside the warehouse with my car tucked inside, I get Samuel out of the trunk and drag his body to my work area. Just as I finish tying his legs down, he comes to. Hm, need to adjust the doses.

“Wha…Where am I?” His voice shakes with confusion and a hint of fear. The mask still covers my face. As I rise, he catches sight of it and screams. The zombie face tends to do that to victims. It’s twisted and creepy as fuck. Just how I like it .

“He…hey man, le.. Lemme go. I won’t say shit to anybody,” he pleads like the pussy-ass bitch he is.

“Oh, Sammy. Can I call you Sammy?” I circle him, my favorite knife twirling between my fingers. Sweat beads on his forehead as his whole body trembles.

There’s the fear!

I roll my neck and shoulders back, feeling the tension release. “Oh, Sammy, unfortunately for you. I can’t let you go. You’ve been a naughty little maggot, haven’t you? Little girls, your thing, Sammy. You sick fuck!”

I drive my knife into his groin. Samuel’s shrill scream fills the warehouse as I stab him again and again. Blood trickles down my wrist and forearm, staining the sleeve of my sweatshirt. “Please, man… I haven’t touched a girl since…since,” his voice falters as he passes out. I bring my knife to his throat.

“But you were planning on it, weren’t you, Sammy?” I crouch down in front of him, blood drips from the knife and my hand on the the plastic surrounding his chair. “I’m your executioner, Sammy boy. I’ve judged you and deemed you to be unworthy of life. You rape children and for that, you gotta die. Any last words?” My voice is firm and emotionless as I stand back up.

“Please…I.”

I don’t allow him to beg for his life as I lunge forward, the blade slicing through his neck, severing his carotid. His heart pumps his blood, and with every beat of his worthless heart, it spills out onto my hands. Euphoria courses through my body. The only thing better than this will be sinking balls deep into Ma Petite Mort’s pussy.

Side-stepping to face him, “Thanks, Sammy. That was just what I needed.” I give his lifeless cheek a few pats with blood stained hand.

I take time to cut up Samuel’s body into small pieces, using the old meat packing equipment here in the warehouse. Easily disguising his flesh as ground meat, and just tossing it in the trash or feeding the sharks in the bay. I’ll burn the bones and his clothes in the incinerator, leaving behind ashes that too will go into the bay.

It’s taken me years to perfect my methods, and for the past four years, it has been flawless. By the time I’m finished, I’m starving. Who knew chopping up a body could make you so hungry? After heading up to the loft, I take a quick shower and change into clean clothes. I need to make myself presentable just in case I run into my girl.

Which is the plan.