"Come out, come out, wherever you are..."
Calliope's breath shuddered as she pressed trembling fingers against her wound, trying to stifle the slow, relentless flow of blood. The dark crimson smeared her deep brown skin, glistening in the faint moonlight filtering through the trees. She bit her lip hard enough to draw blood, forcing herself not to cry out, even as the pain in her arm surged with each heartbeat.
Her body was coiled in the shadows, hidden among the thick underbrush. The scent of damp earth filled her lungs as she crouched lower, her deep brown eyes flicking toward the faint beam of light where he stalked her. The trail of her blood, leading back to her, was a cruel betrayal-he'd see it soon enough.
In the distance, his boots crunched on the gravel path, slow and deliberate, the sound crawling through the silence. His shotgun dragged behind him, the barrel scraping along the stones with a sharp, unsettling screech. His tan skin glowed under the night sky, brown hair falling messily over his forehead, casting shadows over his deep-set brown eyes, eyes that no longer held the warmth she once knew.
"Callie, darling..." His voice rang out, taunting. It was a mockery of affection, twisted and sharp. "Come on out. You know you can't hide forever."
He scanned the woods, his gaze erratic, desperate. His hands tightened around the shotgun, knuckles white as his eyes flared with hunger, the hunt fueling his madness. The stillness was thick, suffocating, but Calliope could feel the tremor in his voice, the impatience-he was unraveling.
She swallowed hard, trying to quiet her heavy breathing, her heart hammering in her chest as he stepped closer, the smell of blood growing stronger around her. If he found her, there would be no telling what he would do.
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In which a predator hunts prey.
She was the undesired outcast, who stood out, yet simultaneously blended effortlessly into the background. I could see the panic in her glassy brown eyes as she prayed her way through the crowded hallways. She'd tightly clutch that cross around her neck, full lips whispering, asking her God to spare her from their scornful glares, hateful comments, and the occasional rough-up.
Silly girl. Did she not know that he was not listening and he would never save her? Like Jesus, she was the sacrificial lamb.
The anxiety-riddled girl would burst through the doors of the school's library with her chest heaving, heart racing, and sweat dripping from her temples. I'd watch her from the shadows as she stored her items behind the check-out counter, preparing for her free period she spent assisting the school librarian.
I clenched my teeth, watching her wheel a cart of books throughout the aisles as she cheerfully hummed her Sunday hymnals. She wore a green and blue pinafore dress that fell mid-calf on her shapely body. She attempted to hide that body from me with oversized clothes, but you could never outfox a fox.
They spoke pure blasphemy when they labeled her undesirable because I desired Jezebel Holmes in the worst way. Those opaque white stockings our classmates teased her for wearing did nothing but spur countless hours of fantasies. I'd dream about ripping her tights apart, right at her center, revealing her virginal cotton white panties covering her untouched paradise. I'd yank them to the side and taste her fear in her cum. Her stockings would find themselves strangling her neck while I fucked a believer out of her. I would be the one she'd pray to absolve her of her sins. I would be the one she would seek protection from. I would be her guiding light. I would be her God.
#1 in Dark Romance
#1 in Tainted Love
#1 in Preacher's Daughter
1st Place in General Category - Hearts Award