Don't trust them, Sam. They'll hurt you. They'll use you.
I am a monster. Monsters don't live under the fucking bed or the closet. They don't appear in a puff of smoke. No, monsters are like me: the quiet guy who walks a drunk woman home, a protective uncle, that unassuming guy with the friendly smile who fixes your porch. We do our work in the dark, we lurk in the shadows, but we roam during the day, scouting our next prey.
Girls like her don't want the beast. They want the idea of one. They want to be safe and still revel in the thrill. But there's no safety with a monster. Because monsters consume. They take your body, your soul, and your innocence.
I've been playing a careful game as I figure this thing out. Thoughtfully stripping her down to her most basic so I could build her up. But it's really no different than it is any time I walk into a house. At first, I ask for their trust. I tell them I'm only there for money. I give them the rope to tie their lover. Then once I have them secured, I don't need their trust anymore. I take. I rule. I conquer.
Tonight she will graduate. She's got the cabin, food, and her little pink dress. She's got her dignity back.
This will be her final lesson.
I don't have to get any more riled up to speak her like I usually do, oh I am at the fucking summit already.
“Get the fuck out,” I command.
She stares at me in complete bewilderment. I watch the wheels turning in her head; I like that she doesn't run right away, that I already have that hold on her.
“I said get out!”
She jumps, then stands on shaky legs, walking past me and slithering through the narrow space I have left for her in the doorway.
“You want to fucking leave me, Vesp? You want that perfect little life you had? Then go. If you can make it to a road out there before I catch you, I'll let you go. You can go pretend that life is still for you.”
“A-a-a-and, what if you catch me?” she asks, her voice quivering in terror. There's a twinge in my gut watching her shake.
“You already know.”
She doesn't move. She's still waiting on my orders. Maybe I haven't given enough credit to the strides we have made. Maybe she really does want me.
Don't do it, Vesp. Show me I don't need to do this.
“I'll give you a head start. Thirty seconds for you to run out ahead. This is your chance to go home.”
Run, Vesp. Run so I can break you.
“I—I'm scared,” she admits through a shaky voice.
“We all are,” I answer. “This will be your only chance. Take it or leave it. You have a choice.”
She won't make it far. It's dark and she'll run in circles. There's acres of untouched forest out here. But that's beside the point.
“You have ten seconds before the offer is rescinded.”
I want her to drop to her knees so I can finally take a breath. I want her to run so I can break in her ass. I want to terrorize her, but I want her to want me.
I countdown. 10…9…8…
Her eyes jump around, she's going through all the scenarios. And that right there—that shows me there is still so much work left. Because she should have begged me to let her stay.
3—
She bolts. It's sudden and almost takes my breath away. I am disappointed that she's chosen to leave, but I'm fucking thrilled that I get to hunt her. I get to redo that perfect night I lost when I broke into her house and things went to shit.
I count loud enough, without yelling, so that I hope she hears each second passing, wondering if she's one second closer to rejoining that world she thinks she's still a part of, or closer to facing her new destiny.
25 Mississippi…26 Mississippi…
I can still hear her tearing through the trees, stumbling in the pitch black of the night.
30.
I stab the knife into the side of the cabin leaving it vibrating as I follow the sounds. These woods are an extension of me. I used to roam here as a boy on weekends and long summer days, and as I got older it became a refuge from the ranch house. I walk confidently, but don't run as it's easy to trip out here and I need to hear her.
There's a splash and I know exactly where she is. I start running. The sound of snapping twigs and my own panting fill my ears so that I've lost her sounds. As I get closer to the brook, I spot her moonlit outline, coming to her feet. She starts to run again, but I've tackled her to the ground before she can even take three steps.
She wrestles me, displaying strength I had forgotten she possessed. She makes the catastrophic error of kicking me in the stomach. It knocks the wind out of my sails for a second as she drags herself through the mud away from me. But that small moment of freedom that kick afforded her only adds to my fury. I grab her ankle and pull her back. She claws at the mud that crumbles underneath her fingertips. The earth won't help her. This, right here, is nature. This is the order of things.