Sugar & Spice (Jeff The Killer)

1- Accusations

I sprinted into 7/11, my heeled booties scraping on the wet concrete. All I wanted- no- all I needed, was an extra large cup of coffee and a blueberry muffin. My body was in desperate need of food and some sort of energy. With my parents having jobs that occupied most of their time, I was pretty much left to fend for my own. That included meals apparently.

Dad worked for the government and mom was a surgeon. Both were completely immersed in their time-taking careers. And while they forgot to go or at least give me lists for grocery shopping, at least they had the decency to keep me with nice clothes and an even cooler car.

I strutted through the glass doors and began my mission in finding what I was dying for. I pushed my sunglasses up to my head as I peered down the baked goods aisle. I ignored the elderly lady purchasing a bag of peanuts, the middle-aged man with running shorts on, and the hooded man whose size seemed imposing in the corner store.

"Score," I mumbled, snagging the giant muffin I had been looking for.

I backed out of the aisle, looking for anything else that I might be interested in sticking in my mouth.

The tv in the corner of the store was turned up as the owner muttered to the elderly woman about a killer being back in town. As the newscaster drones on about the killer with the face that is apparently disfigured. Surviving victims or witnesses claimed he has no eyelids and a carved smile.

"I call bullshit," I mumbled, bending down to pick up a pack of powdered donuts that caught my eye.

No one could see clearly enough to kill without eyelids. Just saying. And a carved smile just seemed a bit much.

I stepped back out of the aisle only for my back and bottom to collide rather roughly with a hard surface. I realized that surface was a someone when I turned around.

"What the fuck? Watch where you're going, dude," I spat. I brushed off the impact as if I had been hit with poison. My pleated miniskirt was smoothed down with my hands as the hooded man in front of me just stared. He had on dark sunglasses, covering a decent amount of his face. I was caught off guard though when I noticed small scarred lines at the corner of his mouth. They were barely noticeable but when he saw me staring he ducked down the aisle I had been in.

I quickly filled a styrofoam cup with scalding hot coffee and paid the cashier. I could feel the presence of the hooded man behind me as I emerged from the building. I kept my gait smooth and collected until I climbed into my matte grey Dodge Challenger. The man kept walking straight.

The loud engine roared to life as I turned the key. I exited the parking lot and turned into the winding road that led home. To my right, the heavily dense forest lined the road and my left, nothing. Just a vast expanse of greens and browns. Something about the scenery here reminded me of the town in Twilight. Maybe because Northern California wasn't all that different from Washington. My town was just as rainy and sloshy.

I rolled my shoulders as I drove, not really being able to shake the feeling of. being watched. I side glanced into the forest, the act being a habit of mine after my dad hit a deer one night. I didn't want to be the cause of an innocent animal's death. I saw a blur of white and black though, as if something or someone, was trying to keep up with my car. I had never seen anything like it. The figure was so human. I absentmindedly swerved in response, my attention having been focused on the blue.

"Fuck!" I yelled as I quickly slammed on the brakes, keeping myself from rolling into the muddy ditch on the side of the road.

"Pull it together, Rosalie," I mumbled in distaste as I backed up and continued the drive home, widening my eyes to make sure I wasn't sleepy or hallucinating.

Home.

Home felt more like an oversized, empty castle to me sometimes. The building was new and modern, more windows than walls. We didn't exactly have to worry about people looking in because our closest neighbors were about a mile away. Even then it was just an old man who lived in the forest off the grid. Meeting him had been a wild ride. He had almost shot me with his hunting rifle on my morning run. I had learned to wear neon after that. Either way, I hated the big empty feeling the house gave me. There was no comfort. It was just boring and cold.

I parked in the four car parking lot near my home and gathered my goods. I stepped out and walked into my house through the side, sliding glass door. Even our front door was sliding glass. Problematic, if you asked me. The only cool thing about the glass was that you could see the thriving life of the forest around us and at night, the glass darkened so only we could see out, but no one could see in.

Well, it's cool until a mountain lion is outside staring in like they can see.

I set my items on the coffee table in the too-big for my family living room and headed up the spaced stairs to my bed room. I changed into a pair of silk shorts and a loose button down shirt, grabbed a fuzzy blanket, and then headed back downstairs. There was a tv in the loft upstairs, but watching Netflix on the giant flatscreen with surround sound was so much better.

So I kicked back, drank my coffee, ate my food, and watched Marvel shows.

It was a simple life I lived. Until I realized he had been watching my every move since that day. And I wouldn't know until the night he climbed in through a bedroom window.