In Love With a Serial Killer

Chapter Forty Seven- Dangerous Threats

We both giggled as we realized our desperation to be with one another. Now that we had felt one another, it was as if we used each other for oxygen. Exiting the shower, he covered me in my towel and then he covered himself as we made it to our separate rooms to obtain our clothes. My room was just outside the bathroom so I was not far and changed quickly since I knew he had fewer clothes.

I thought only a few moments had passed, but apparently, it was longer. I felt his strength assist me with the strap on my bra before I went to turn but he stopped me. I felt his nose graze my neck and his kiss on the back of my neck and leaned my head back against him.

"Why won't you talk to me?"

"Shhhh." I heard him say as he pulled my hair slightly back to kiss my neck now more viciously. It was more savage than passionate. Leaving my neck sore and causing me to shift awkward for moments following.

"Stay." He whispered as I listened to his command. I heard the door shut before standing there with only my undergarments on. My heart thumped as I thought of what was to come. What would he do next?

Eventually, the door came open and he giggled.

"What are you doing?"

"Waiting for you, what took you so long?"

"I was changing...."

"After that...You were in here and helped me get dressed..."

His expression turned dark. His smile was now a hardline and he ran to the door and locked it.

"What is it?"

"I didn't leave my room." He said with a harsh gaze around the room. He tore open the closet, shifted through the sheets, looked out the window before locking them as well, darted under the bed, and then to the bathroom. As I followed him since he lingered, he tired to push me out.

"What is it? Let me see!"

"No! Trust me!"

"What is it? Why won't you let me see?"

"You don't need to!" He screamed-harshly and as I had never heard him. "Go! Sit on the bed!"

I eventually pushed past him before falling into the bathroom and catching myself on the wall of the shower.

On the mirror, written in the steam that surprisingly still lingered was a threat. Of most poetic proportions.

"Dark heart as a raven's quill, bright eyes like the stars at night, but a wicked soul and an assassin's rite."

A quote from a book I had read many years ago. Whoever was doing this was someone I knew...someone I was close to...