I Live For The Chase

Chapter 7

On the walk home I pass a poster taped on a lamp post. The front heading is in bold capital letters.

SEVEN MORE MEN HAVE BEEN DECLARED MISSING, POLICE SUSPECT IT IS THE GRAY DEVIL

A shiver runs through me and I recall the night a week ago when he left me in the dark after warning me that he would never leave. I am bound to him for the rest of my life as a consequence for one stupid idea.

I quickly scan the list of the missing men, reading their names and then looking at their faces.

I pray to god that my Fathers name isn't on the list and that the police haven't realized that he has disappeared but then again if they had started to suspect something, I would be the first one to be questioned right?

I don't know what I will do when that day comes because I can't live in delusion, that day will come. Soon. And when it does, I need to be prepared, I need to know what to say. I have no idea what to say. I can't lie. I am a terrible liar, I have never gotten away with a lie before.

I will figure that out tomorrow, as of now I am hungry and tired.

I feel like I am always tired lately. Mentally tired maybe.

I plan what I will make for dinner as I walk down my street.

Thankfully I have had more than enough food to last me all through this week thanks to the killer. However I am down to my last chicken breast and vegetables... So on that note I guess I will be having chicken and boiled veggies for dinner.

Yum.

Turning the corner to my house, I think I am hallucinating when I see the lights turned on from inside.

What the hell?

I'm not done with you yet. Not even close. I'll see you soon.

The killer words that have been looming over me, possessing me with fear all week come flooding back in an instant.

He's inside.

Most of me is paralyzed with fear as I walk up the stairs to the door but the other part—a very small part—is... freakishly, recklessly, idiotically... electrified at the thought that he is back?

He has killed so many men. I remind myself but somehow it doesn't do much to extinguish that evolving thrill as I open the door.

Entering the kitchen, I see him before he sees me.

His back is facing me and he stands over the stove, stirring away at something that is sizzling and filling the air with a delicious garlic-y aroma.

He is wearing a tight, casual black shirt that hugs his muscular frame and I can see the muscles in his back move as he stirs the pot.

The house is... warm. The realization hits me with shock. The heating hasn't been working for ages. I haven't been able to pay the heating bills for obvious reasons. How is it working now?

Was it him?

"Hey Little Killer." He says without turning around as if he could sense my presence.

I don't reply and he turns around.

"I see my presence has shocked you into silence." He leans against the benchtop while stirring whatever delicious concoction he has in the pot.

"I wasn't..." I inhale a deep breath. "Expecting you."

"I told you. I am not going anywhere. From now on," He turns back around, "Always expect me."

I don't like the way he said that. Like a fact. A statement. Instead of a question.