Page 21 of Jealous Stalker

Iwasn’t supposed to come inside tonight.

I told myself—beggedmyself—not to. That she needed space. That my diligent vigil from the trees was good enough. Has worked this far so why change things.

But I couldn’t stay away.

The second the sky went dark, the second I logged into the camera feed and saw her writing another note, I was already at her back door, at her window, my back pressed to the wall. Heart pounding, fists clenched. Not even trying to resist. Just waiting for my angel to fall asleep.

And she did. Very quickly.

I’m twisted with longing enough to believe she went to sleep quick because she needed me to come sooner.

So I let myself in quietly, the way I always do. Just to make sure she’s okay. Just to breathe the air in her room, the sweetperfume that fills all the dark, lonely places in my soul. To feel the peace that only exists when I know she’s safe.

And then I see it.

Folded. White. Same place. Right on the center of her pillow.

Today, I don’t need to wonder. I know it’s for me.

My hands shake but with anticipation not uncertainty or dreaded agony, when I reach for it. My vision blurs when I read the words once… then twice. Then again and again, like if I blink, they’ll disappear.

Did you kiss me goodbye? I felt it. Or maybe it was the dream. I’m sorry, but I’m not stopping. I think I smelled you on my pillow…and I liked it.

I liked it.

I liked it.

I liked it.

I press the paper to my mouth, my chest splitting open. The ache in me is so deep it borders on agony.

She knows I exist, that I’m not a figment of her imagination.

She knows.

And she isn’t scared. Shelikesit.

Those last four little words are drips of water to my parched soul. I’ve gone so long without kindness, without warmth, that the idea of herwantingthis—wantingme—feels like sunlight after years of cold.

I sink down onto the edge of her bed, staring at the paper. Rereading it. Memorizing the loops of her handwriting until I can trace it with my finger with my eyes shut.

Could tattoo it onto my skin.

Hmm. The idea takes hold. Maybe I will.

I breathe in deep, nose buried in her pillow.

She’s here. Asleep. Oblivious to how close I am. How ruined I am for her.

And now? Now, I don’t have to hide anymore.

She doesn’t want me to. She left the door open, even if she didn’t say the words.

And fuck it all to hell, I’m going to walk through it.

Without giving myself time to think about it, I slide in next to her again, quiet as smoke. Breath held.

When she doesn’t wake or even stir, I exhale in relief. My body relaxes, sagging into her soft mattress. And fuck, it feels so good.

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