Page 38 of Cyber Revenge

NINETEEN

LYDIA

Ishould be scared of him.

Of the masked man who stalks my house from the shadows, the one who bloodies men on my front lawn and disappears before the sirens arrive.

But I’m not scared.

I’m obsessed.

It started the night he pinned me to the wall, hand around my throat, his breath warming my skin as he whispered,“Stay inside.”

I haven’t stopped thinking about it since.

The way his gloved fingers flexed.

The way he smelled, leather, smoke, heat.

The way he sniffed me like he needed to memorize it before vanishing.

No one has ever touched me like that without even touching me.

The next night, I leave a note taped to the window.

I know it’s you.

I can’t help myself. The night after that, a lacy black thong, folded with care and hooked onto the fencepost.

The next, a mirror selfie, nude, soft lighting, hair tousled, with a sticky note in the corner of the frame that read:

Still watching?

I never see him take them.

But I always know when he has.

The panties disappeared before sunrise.

The note came back flipped over, a new word scrawled in blocky ink.

Brat.

I left a cupcake one night. Just to see what he'd do.

When I checked the next morning, the cupcake was gone.

And there was a smear of pink frosting on my bedroom window.

My nipples went hard just seeing it, thinking about his mouth, his tongue on the frosting.

Fuck, I want it on me.

Knowing he’s out there protecting me, I start to feel more alive, more like myself. The ongoing obsession spiraled fast.

I start getting dressed by the window, slowly, deliberately, in sheer fabrics and tiny panties.

Sometimes, I touch myself with the blinds half-open.

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