Shades Of Styles

Stalker, Watcher, Psycopath (Part 5)

It's been 5 days now without Harry being here and I'm starting to get worried, not for him but for me. I've managed to salvage what I can for food and I'm wearing my last clean pair of clothes. It's one thing to be scared because you've been kidnapped but it's another when the kidnapper disappears and you have no idea when or if they will be back.

This could have been his whole plan all along, to kidnap me, make me tell him I love him and then leave me to die. Or he could have seen right through my lie and decided the best way to scare me was to just leave.

There has to be something here to help me get out or help me find out when he'll be back, if he will ever be back. At least when he was here my attempts at leaving were capable of being successful. Without him, there's nothing I can do.

I begin to look through drawers and the closest, under the bed, under the sofa, in cabinets and more but the place seems to be empty of anything. That is, until I find a small door that looks like it was meant to be a safe, hiding behind the tv. I push the tv away from the wall and pull on the door, it gives way after the 4th pull and I find a file box sitting inside. I pull on it and it seems heavy. Once it's out of the door I set it down and open the box. A white dress on top, so I pull them out to dig through the rest. A jar labeled Emily and a picture book also labeled Emily sits inside with a few pieces of jewelry. A necklace, a ring and a few pairs of earrings. The last thing inside is a notebook.

I decide to open the notebook first, hoping it'll give me clues to the rest of the stuff inside. The first page says: Emily Elizabeth Lindley, age: 23, birthdate: 10-13-94, eye color: hazel, weight: 120, height: 5'7, birth mother: Amy Margaret Jenkins, age: 45, birth father: Robert Kendall Lindley, age: 47

The first 5 pages tell very detailed facts about this Emily girl, things like, where she was born, where she grew up, her nickname in school, she went by Lizzy or Em. Her pets she had, 3 dogs throughout her childhood, all at different times, the way the dogs came in and left her life, one deceased, 2 runaways. Every detail down to her shoe size. I end up flipping to the last page and my heart drops as I read what it says

My dearest Emily, our time together was short but I loved you so much more than you ever loved me. It hurt to know that you tried to leave me, I'm sorry for what I did to you, I hope you can forgive me. I couldn't bare to part with you, I took part of you and kept it locked in a jar, staring at it daily. I gave the rest of you to your family, delivered it on their doorstep without a word, I did leave a note. I told them you lead the best life you could lead with me, as I hope you did and that you had moved on from this world. Oh, Lizzy, I am so sorry for hurting you. The worst part was watching you die in my arms, I spared you one last kiss. I know its what you would have wanted. I didn't part with that dress either, I still have it here. It smells like you, apart from the blood. Though I feel it makes it smell even more like you...Emily, I miss you. I love you. -Forever yours, Harry

I could nearly vomit, as I let the book drop from my hands. I lightly pick up the dress and let the bottom drop so that I can see the dress clearly. The dress seemed in perfect condition other than 3 slashes across the chest and stomach. I drop the dress as I realize that this is the dress that...he...puke comes out of my mouth before I can even process it. I wipe my mouth off and rush to the bathroom to clean the vomit from my shirt. I am even more disgusted by him now. I cannot believe he killed someone-yes I can actually. The man has some wiring loose in his head. I stare at myself wide eyed, trying to gain control of my head as I try to catch my breathing to slow it down. That jar must be...and the pictures are probably ones he's taken of her. She was just like me and she tried to run away but she was unsuccessful so he killed her.

Once I've gained my breath back, I go back to the pile of stuff on the floor and stand over it, I don't want to see anymore but I also don't want to touch it.

I hear footsteps above me but I make no move to put anything away. I can't move myself from this spot, this is truly disgusting. The footsteps get closer and then I hear him stomp down the stairs. The beeping for the door opening sounds and then I head the door open. Before he can say anything, I know he's sees me standing here, with the tv moved, the door to the secret compartment open and the pile of things under me.

"Oh no, (Y/N). What-how-" he stammers and I still can't move, as I stare at this dress. The dress of a dead woman, a woman who probably lived in this same basement, probably wore these clothes. He rushes to my side and begins to clean up the mess, throwing everything in the box as he defends himself. "Im sorry, you weren't supposed to see any of this...I thought it was locked." He says. Tears well in my eyes as I try to comprehend the scene. Part of me thought that I could pretend to love him so I could get through this and runaway but now I know that it's impossible. I have to love him or he'll kill me. Poor Emily, she wanted out. She didn't want any of this, I wonder if there are more women that he's murdered or kept hidden in his basement for his own pleasure.

When the box is cleaned up, he gets to his feet and looks at me. He uses his thumb to brush away my tears and I jump back from him. I don't want his disgusting hands on me, ever. I can't believe I kissed him! I could vomit again. I hold it back though, to ask him a question.

"How many others?"I ask, gritting my teeth and holding back tears. He looks at me quietly, trying to figure out my question. "How many women have you murdered? Like her, huh? Are you going to kill me too?!" I ask in a shouted tone. I finally gain the courage and to look at him as I wait for an answer.

"Ju-just her." he stutters. "She was my first love. I'm so sorry (Y/N), please don't be upset. It was 3 years ago, before I even knew you!" he defends himself and I roll my eyes. How could he think that I'm upset that he was in love with someone else. In fact, I wish he was in love with someone else. I wish it wasn't me that was standing in front of a murderer knowing that I either have to love him or die. Or I wish that he was dead or that Emily would have been successful with her escape and that he could be locked behind bars and I wouldn't have to be his next victim.

"You killed her, Harry!" I shout at him, pulling at my hair as I move away from him. I can't stand this close to him without feeling nauseous.

"It was an accident, please, don't be angry." He begs, following after me.

"You're disgusting, you kidnapped and murdered another girl..." I spit. "These are her clothes aren't they!?" I ask, pulling at the shirt. He shakes his head.

"No, I would never do that." He shakes his head. "Theres only you know, you have to know that."

"I don't care, you committed murder and didn't even tell her family that it was you..." Realization hits me, as I don't know what he meant by keeping a part of her with him. "Whats in the jar?" I finally ask, scared to know the answer. I pray to god that its not a body part and at the very worse its a lock of her hair but if that's all he kept, what did he deliver to the family? Vomit rises in my throat and I try to push it back down as I wait for answer.

"...her ashes. I had her cremated. I only kept a small bit of it and I put the rest in an urn, I left it at her families house." He explains. I feel a little more relaxed, not a lot more, I'm just less disgusted knowing that it's not a finger or something, or that he left her dead body on their porch. "If it'll make you feel better, I'll get rid of all the stuff for you." He offers and I scoff.

"It'll make me feel better if you let me go." I shout before I can stop myself, its the truth, might as well let him know it.

"But...you said you loved me." He gulps back tears and I roll my eyes.

"Well, that was before...all of this." I say gesturing to the box of things. "I can't-no, I won't- I refuse to love a murderer."

He stares at me in shock, as if I'm the one in the wrong. As if he didn't commit murder and then keep the dress he murdered her in and her ashes. Shock turns to anger as he grabs the box and leaves, locking the door behind him.

It's apparent, that I will die now.