Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 77841 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77841 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
It doesn't take long for the older couple that initially greeted her to walk away to talk to others.
And it takes even less time for him to escort her out of the room.
This just won't do.
My anger starts to simmer below the surface.
I got nothing from her at the store earlier today other than a slap to the face by her ignoring me, and this man gets to guide her outside into darkness? This man is worthy of a conversation and a slow walk on the beach?
Inside, a sinister chuckle fills my head.
She may be smiling now.
She may be carrying on polite conversation with this man.
But it's my goal, by the end of the night, to have her screaming, crying, and begging for help.
I won’t help her. I’m not the savior in this story.
In this story, I'm the monster and I'm going to enjoy every single second of it.
By the time I’m done with her, she’ll realize that a little courtesy goes a very long way.
As I keep to the shadows, a very difficult task due to the twinkling fucking lights everywhere, I keep an eye on both of them.
I’m not close enough to understand what they’re saying.
I can’t even get a good read on them. I have no idea if this is her boyfriend, or if they just met tonight.
She doesn’t seem alarmed at being alone with him, and for some reason that annoys the shit out of me too.
I’m running scenarios of how to handle this and what I should do with him when they pause at the edge of the sand long enough for her to pull her heels from her feet.
He never lets go of her hand despite it looking difficult for her to work the buckle on her shoe with only one.
I could kill him. It would be easy enough to slit his throat, but I don’t know if she would gasp in surprise or scream the fucking stars out of the night sky.
Getting caught is never part of the plan, but I’m also not really the type to just kill someone who doesn’t pose a threat to me.
I’m thinking I may have to follow her home, but luck is on my side tonight when his phone rings.
He answers and speaks briefly to her before walking away. She doesn’t stay in the spot he leaves her. Instead, she turns and starts walking in the opposite way he does.
It seems like fate, although I don’t believe in that shit. I’ll just consider it an ounce of luck as I keep hidden in the dunes as she walks. The further she gets from her male companion and the ritzy hotel, the less chance of getting caught.
Insidious thoughts fill my head as I continue to watch her.
This wasn’t the plan.
The plan was simple.
I was going to snatch her up, drive her far away, and drop her off a hundred miles from where I grabbed her.
Of course I’d leave a note—something along the lines of you didn’t notice me, but I noticed every move you made.
I want to scare her.
I want her to take pause the next time she’s out alone.
I want her to stop and realize that everyone else in the world shouldn't be looked over.
We matter just as much as she believes she matters.
But as I watch her, as I see the ocean in the backdrop, I want more.
I want more of her than just being scared for a couple of hours.
It's a dangerous change of plans. It increases the likelihood of getting caught, but I just can't let the idea go.
I don't want to keep her forever. That would be ridiculous.
But maybe a couple of days or a couple of hours.
Just long enough to torture her, to torment her mind to make sure that, as easily as I was forgettable in the surf shop, she won't go another day of her life without remembering me.
The beach is quiet with only the sound of the waves brushing the shore, but I know better than to get complacent.
There's always someone around. There's always a chance that there's a witness lurking in the shadows, but what I've also learned in my line of work is that people are selfish. They’re usually only paying attention to themselves.
She doesn't look concerned. I can tell she doesn't feel unsafe. She isn't looking over her shoulder or pausing to listen to noises made in the distance.
Her ego won't allow it. It's obvious she's been sheltered. She believes in the protection of her two bodyguards, but they are nowhere to be seen now.
Her mistake is stupid, really, this false sense of security. She has the idea that no harm can come her way because there are dozens of people a quarter of a mile down the beach, inside the hotel, but I've seen it happen.