The flight back to Massachusetts was a blur. I couldn't stop thinking about Sam, about the softness of her skin, the way she trembled in my arms. I'd already begun planning how I'd solidify her place in my world. But when the plane finally landed, something felt... wrong.
The moment we touched down, I rushed past everyone, barely glancing at my teammates or even acknowledging my driver waiting by the car. The drive home was a blur, the world outside the window blending into one long stretch of meaningless color. I was focused on one thing: Sam.
As soon as I got to my mansion, I darted up to my room, my heart pounding as I locked myself away in the sanctuary of my hidden room. My fingers trembled with anticipation as I unzipped my suitcase and carefully pulled out the piece of her I'd managed to take with me: her favorite hoodie. I had taken it right out of her suitcase when she wasn't looking, a little treasure she'd never even know was missing.
Bringing the hoodie to my face, I inhaled deeply, the faint scent of her shampoo filling my senses. It was as if she was here, in my arms, even though she wasn't. A shiver ran down my spine as I held the hoodie close, my eyes drifting to the monitor in the corner-the one that let me see right into her bedroom. I'd installed a hidden camera ages ago, my own private view into her life.
But tonight, the screen showed only an empty room. Sam's bed was untouched, her sheets perfectly in place. She wasn't home.
A cold dread crept up my spine, and I tightened my grip on her hoodie. Where was she? Why wasn't she home?
Just as panic began to claw at me, my phone buzzed. A notification from Instagram. I clicked on it and froze as Sam's latest post filled the screen. She was with Hannah, smiling and relaxed, a caption that read: Late night with my bestie!
Bestie.
The word echoed in my mind, each letter igniting a burning jealousy inside me. How dare she? How dare she spend the night at Hannah's, her so-called "bestie," while I sat here waiting for her? She was mine. Not Hannah's. Not anyone's.
By the time the next school day arrived, the rage in me had hardened into a razor-sharp edge. I watched Sam from a distance, her eyes bright, her laugh annoyingly carefree. And then there was Hannah, trailing close by her side, talking and laughing, completely oblivious to the dark, twisted fury brewing inside me.
When school let out, I waited for my chance. I approached Hannah as she was gathering her things, making sure Sam was nowhere around.
"Hey, Hannah," I said, putting on my sweetest smile. "I was wondering if you could help me with something? It won't take long."
Hannah hesitated for a second, but her natural kindness won out. "Sure, Scarlett. What's up?"
We walked together, my heart racing as I led her out of the school and down a quiet alley nearby. The moment we were out of sight, I let the mask slip. Grabbing her by the shoulders, I shoved her hard against the wall, watching her eyes widen in shock.
"Scarlett, what-what are you doing?" she stammered, panic flooding her face.
"You think you can take her from me?" I hissed, my voice low and venomous. "She's mine, Hannah. She's always been mine. And you... you're nothing."
Hannah tried to struggle, but I was faster, stronger. Without another word, I struck her hard, knocking her unconscious. Her body went limp in my arms, and a twisted sense of satisfaction washed over me. This was justice. This was what she deserved.
I dragged her to my car, adrenaline fueling me as I drove back to the mansion. My hands were steady, my mind clear. This was what I had to do. For Sam.
Once home, I took her to the basement, tying her up securely. By the time she regained consciousness, my face was the first thing she saw.
"Scarlett... please... what are you doing?" Her voice was barely a whisper, laced with fear.
"You're nothing to her," I spat, letting all the fury I'd bottled up spill out. "Sam is mine. She's always been mine, and you tried to take her from me."
With each word, my anger grew, boiling over as I tightened my grip on her throat. She struggled, but her pleas were weak, fading into silence as I took her life with my own hands. The darkness in me surged, consuming every part of me. By the time it was over, her lifeless body lay at my feet, a twisted smile on my face.
I laughed, the sound echoing through the empty basement. The release was intoxicating, a rush of triumph that left me feeling more alive than ever.
Taking her blood, I scrawled words on the walls, messages of my devotion, my promise to Sam. I love you, St. Onge. No one can take you from me. My hands were steady, each stroke a declaration of the bond I knew we shared.
Afterward, I disposed of the body, dragging it out to the lake and watching it sink beneath the dark waters, swallowed by the depths. No one would suspect a thing. It was flawless.
When I got back to the mansion, I took a long, hot shower, washing away the remnants of the night. Pulling on Sam's hoodie, I felt a surge of comfort, as if she was right there with me. I took her pillow into my arms, retreating to the shrine in my secret room. The plush chair was waiting for me, and I sank into it, turning on the monitor.
There she was-Sam-safe and sound in her room, blissfully unaware of what had happened. She moved around, getting ready for bed, her face a mix of exhaustion and peace. She had no idea her precious "bestie" was gone. That part of her life had been erased, leaving only me.
"Goodnight, St. Onge," I whispered, a satisfied smile curling on my lips as I watched her settle into bed. "You'll always be mine, and no one-no one-will ever take you from me."
And as I drifted off in the glow of the monitor, wearing her hoodie, I knew that everything was finally as it should be.
