Sugar Daddy Season

Chapter 24 ~ HIM

I haven't given up, Mara. 

I just needed some time after screwing things up again. You don't know how agitating it is to keep getting so close, yet failing. I'm frustrated beyond belief and I even had to strangle my neighbor's cat yesterday just for a release. Your father's mashed potato brain was working in my favor on Saturday when I lured him away as bait. One moment he was eating up my lies, thinking I was your imbecile ex-boyfriend, Josh, and the next moment, his memory was back to reality. 

We tussled, and I have to admit that for an older, senile man, he's strong like an ox, but I'm stronger. My apologies for roughing him up as badly as I did, but it was necessary. He began shouting for help and I couldn't have him drawing attention, could I? 

So, really, it's his own fault. 

If he had listened to me when I told him to shut the fuck up, he wouldn't have bruised ribs right now or a broken nose.

None of it gave me pleasure.

I'm a lot of sick things, Mara, but I do not take pride in beating the elderly. Especially one who can barely remember his name or if he washed his hands after taking a piss. 

One thing you can count on, though, is that I will never stop trying to kill you. I'm in too deep, and it has never taken me this long to successfully hunt my prey. My therapist thinks it's because you scare me and I have a fear of commitment. Not that I've told Gwen the truth about my darkness or what my plans are for you. She thinks you're my girlfriend because that's what I've led her to believe. I'm not an idiot, Mara. I would never tell anyone about my secret hobby. Not even someone bound by HIPAA laws. Instead, I tell Gwen half-truths about us—about you. 

Because even someone like me needs someone to talk to sometimes, and there aren't enough cats in the world for me to snap.

I just have to be extra careful about what I say or else she could report me to the cops, and well, I don't want that. I can't kill you from jail, can I? So I'd like to stay out of the slammer for as long as possible, and after I kill you, I'm going to skip town. San Francisco has been fun, but it's getting too sketchy, and you can only leave a trail of bodies for so long before some Sherlock Holmes connects the dots, and they lead back to me.

Which is why I've chosen tonight as my final attempt. I don't know why I've never considered killing you at Penthouse before. It will be so easy as you exit from the back entrance to go home. People will think you got mugged again, which is perfect for me. My one last perfect kill before I leave this shithole city. 

And this time, I don't give a single fuck about obstacles. I will slaughter you and anyone else who gets in my way if I have to.

I can't take it anymore.

I need you dead to rid myself of this albatross you've created around my neck. Hell, if it ends up being messy, so be it. At this point, I don't care if I get caught anymore as long as I leave you dead. I just want it done so your whore-self no longer haunts me with those whore legs, and that whore mouth, which finally chose old over young.

It's fucking pathetic.

You're pathetic.

I am so ready for this to be over, and I hope you are, too.

And I love how oblivious you are that I'm wading in the crowd, watching you dance in your gauzy ethereal dress, with a crown made of Baby's Breath, and shimmery white makeup that makes you look otherworldly. The Lord of the Rings theme tonight is ridiculous, but you are so stunning and shine as bright as the sun breaking through silver clouds on a rainy day. It's almost difficult to navigate the sea of swaying bodies with how aroused I am just watching you. Do you know how difficult it is to walk with a bulge of this size?