Prologue
I'm being stalked.
Followed by a shadow that doesn't know the darkness is the best place for him to hide.
He doesn’t think I know, that I don’t see him, but I noticed him long before he did me. I like this game that he’s playing. I let him think he’s the predator and I allow him the small creature comforts of being the pursuer in whatever dream he seems to be walking in.
Eventually he’ll come to realize this is nothing more than an infatuation and I’ll be fine with it. I crack my neck as I move away from where I’ve been perched on the windowsill in my own darkness, watching the glow from the end of his cigarette.
I walk into my bathroom and turn on the light because it’s the furthest room away from prying eyes and as soon as I close the door, I look into the mirror.
The eyes that stare back at me in the mirror’s reflection are feral.
The comedown is usually the easiest part—it’s the best feeling in the world next to taking a life.
I let out a sigh as I tear my eyes away from the mirror. I never understood why I looked the way I do. I imagine that if Barnum and Bailey were still touring and displaying a sideshow, I’d be a main attraction.
I look neither male nor female—a mystery only answered by what I carry between my legs. Anatomy at its finest, I think with a quiet, bemused chuckle.
My features resemble a feline.
Eyes narrow and set a little too far apart.
High cheek bones.
Full lips.
A low, slanting forehead.
But he still pursues me and that’s all that matters.
I sigh as I turn away from my reflection and flick the light off with my long, slim fingers. I sit on the edge of my shower, face in my hands, and a smile spreading slowly across my lips.
I know that at some point I’ll grow sick of this game. That’s when I’ll show him I’m more animal than human, however, I think I’ll continue the dance a little while longer.
He’s probably confused and doesn’t understand why he’s so drawn to me, but I’m used to that as well. I just don’t like that he’s becoming bolder with his infatuation. I don’t like that he thinks he can follow me and there won’t be any repercussions.
For him.
For me.
Who knows?
Even though I have an idea of how this will end, I won’t hedge my bets, because while I’m growing weary of his pursuit, I’m becoming equally fascinated by it.
It’s a conundrum I want to unravel.
To dig deep into the core of his soul until the secret spills forward like a rush of blood at the end of a blade.
I sit up and square my shoulders as I begin to chew my lower lip thoughtfully.
Not everything has to end with the destruction of one for the other to survive, and maybe I can find a way to make him comfortable enough to approach me. I’d like to know his name, his occupation, his deepest, darkest thoughts.
It would be the best way to begin the real game we’re both eager to play, though we watch each other from either side of an imaginary line, waiting for the other to strike.
A viper and a scorpion are how I would best describe us.
Both deadly in our own ways—no matter how unassuming the other looks.
I’ve found that to be true for most people in this world; although some manage to contain their sadistic tendencies better than others.
I still haven’t figured out where I fall on the scale of things.