The moment his eyes fell on her, he’d wanted to know what every moment of the experience would feel like. The thoughts. The moment of making that final decision. Of knowing it was going to happen. Drawing her in.
And for the first time, he’d wondered what it would be like after. That was the biggest change. The part that had thrilled him in a way he hadn’t expected. There had always been that question in the back of his mind. What would it be like when he was done? But he’d thought more about the logistics than he had anything else. He’d wondered what he would do. What he would say. How he would continue to exist in the minds of those who knew him as what they had always seen and not what he would become.
But it was also that very shift that had fascinated him. They wouldn’t find out. He knew well enough to put the pieces together so they would never point to him. He would move in and out of the same circles. Go about the same life. And no one around him would ever know who was standing right beside them.
He’d reveled in the idea of seeing the smiles and hearing the laughs. Those were even more important to him than the tears. The tears were expected. They were the reactions that people sought out when something like this happened. A life ended, and people cried for them.
But if they laughed around him, if they smiled, it spoke of something different. Not that they had disdain for the life cut off. But that they were comfortable and believed they were with someone they could share that with.
He’d suddenly been deeply immersed in curiosity about how people would react. The way it might change the perception of a person. How death placed a mask over virtually any face. He’d wanted to watch people mourn and witness them crawl through the jagged stages of grief. It had been like staring into the inner mechanisms of an old clock. He’d wanted to watch the gears churn through time and drag the second hand along until it counted minutes and hours and days.
It had been because of her. Because he’d wanted to keep her. To preserve her. So he’d lived out his needs on the others and watched as little bits of the world fell apart around him. He’d gone unnoticed. Footprints in the snow. Warmth in the cold. A smile in sunlight. Just in the background and yet…
And yet.
Maybe it never would have started if it hadn’t been for her.
He shouldn’t have done it. Not even once. No matter how much he’d thought about it.
And he hadn’t.
Not until her.
But she’d taken what had been thoughts and turned them into a craving.
It was more than he had ever experienced. The desire had always been there. For as long as he could remember. There had never been a time when he hadn’t wanted that feeling. When he hadn’t wanted to know what it was like. But it had always been at a distance. It had been just a thought, an abstract.
Maybe he could have held it in.
But now it had begun. It was in his heart. In his spirit. In his blood.
He wanted to know every different way the world around him would react. Every question the police would ask. The way the reporters would tilt their heads. The words used in the headlines.
Every one of them was just a little bit different. In that way, death could unmask as well. Unspoken biases appeared. Assumptions that should never appear and were crafted on no basis but the thin, teetering structures of personal preferences, misconceptions, and beliefs.
One woman was to be mourned more heavily because of what she was wearing. Another to be spoken about with a veil of judgment because of where she was found. Down to the very words chosen to describe their deaths and the pleas to the public about remaining safe.
For some women, no such plea was needed. Look at what she was wearing, where she was, how she died. It must have been something she did. No need to be cautious.
For others, something close to desperation. She was beautiful, smart, sweet, innocent. She was stolen. It could happen to anyone.
And all the while, he’d kept her in his sights. Even she didn’t know she lived as if she was behind glass. Forever visible. Set apart and protected. And yet so tenuously close to tatters.
Thirteen years ago…
That was enough. He’d thought he couldn’t control himself. That the impulses raging inside him were too strong for him to keep down. But he’d managed it.
Again, it was the first moment of seeing a new, perfect face that changed him. When he’d seen her, the urges hadn’t mattered anymore. Watching the reactions and learning through them hadn’t mattered anymore. All that had mattered was her. She had been everything, and nothing would take her from him. Not ever.
But the temptation came back.
After so long, he gave in.
Just one.
The rush was intense like peppermint.
Now
They were saying her name again.
He’d thought that would never happen again. And there was a time when that was exactly what he’d wanted. He’d never intended for her name to be spoken or her memory to linger on. That was why he’d chosen her. He could have done anything else. But he hadn’t.
He’d seen something in her eyes that night. So many years ago, when everything he’d built was starting to show cracks. He’d thought it was perfect. That he had thought of everything. But in an instant, he’d watched as it had started to crumble, and he’d had to decide what to do.
And now they were saying her name again.
But this time it was what he wanted. One more time to see how they would react. One more time to see the shock. And
