Page 49 of Some Saviors Can Break You

He didn't excel at anything because he wasn't good enough.

Not good enough.

Never good enough.

At least not until now.

Now, he was a killer who had stalked the city for eighteen months, kept the cops at bay, left no trail for them to follow, and had sixteen bodies to prove it. He had used his weaknesses to his advantage, played on the fact that no one ever noticed him, and he had triumphed for once in his life.

The only way to prove to everyone in his life who hadn't noticed him, hadn't cared about him, hadn't believed in him wrong, was to keep killing.

Knocking on the door, he waited for it to be answered.

He didn't have to wait long.

The door was thrown open, and a pretty lady with long blonde waves cascading down her back dressed in a business suit and bare feet stood there. He knew she’d just arrived home because he’d watched from right beside the front door to the building as she walked inside.

Of course she hadn't seen him, perhaps if she had her fate would have been different, but like always, he was the shadow that no one noticed.

“Hello, may I help you?” she asked.

“Evening, ma’am, just letting you know the electricity will be going off at eight, there was a problem in the neighboring building that requires us to shut things down for at least an hour.”

“Oh, really?” She looked annoyed. “I was going to video call with my boyfriend who’s traveling overseas for work.”

“Sorry for the inconvenience,” he said, not sorry in the least. “Please sign here to indicate that you’ve been notified.” He held out the clipboard.

With an irritated sigh, she snatched it from his hand and scribbled her name on the sheet of paper. Before she could hand it back, he whipped out his hand and clamped it around her neck, shoving her inside the apartment, kicking the door closed behind him.

Learning from the last time when the woman had managed to get the drop on him, he increased the pressure on her neck, squeezing until she passed out. Then he dropped her unconscious body on the floor and breathed a sigh of relief.

Everything had gone smoothly.

Last time had been an anomaly, he’d been thrown from his game by Detective Florence Harris managing to get a read on him. It was disconcerting for someone who was used to being invisible to finally be seen. It was like his cloak had been removed and his nakedness made clear for all the world to see.

But he’d come up with a plan to get rid of the detective.

He was going to take care of this woman, and then he was hoping that the cop would be waiting for him at the next dumpsite. As soon as he saw her, he was going to shoot her, aiming his car at her hadn't worked but a bullet between the eyes would do the job. He was a good shot, not perfect—because he wasn't perfect at anything—but he was good enough to hit his target.

Right now though, he had a different woman needing his attention.

Kneeling down, he dragged the woman’s hands behind her back and added more duct tape than was necessary to bind her wrists. Then he pulled over a chair from her kitchen table and hefted the woman up and onto it, securing her with an entire roll of tape because he was so paranoid about something going wrong.

By the time he was done, the woman was starting to come round.

“Who are you?” she croaked through a throat he knew had to feel like it had been covered in sandpaper.

“No one,” he replied simply. “I've never been anyone. Do you know what that’s like? No, of course you don’t.” He gave a derisive laugh. “Look at you.” He lifted a hand and ran his fingertips down the woman’s cheek. “You're beautiful, I bet everywhere you go everyone is looking at you. Guys want to have sex with you and women want to be you.”

“I…I…it’s not…I don’t…” the woman stammered.

“Don’t lie to me,” he warned. “I don’t like liars. My parents didn't like lying, verbally berating their children, that was fine, but lying was a big no-no. Do you know what it’s like to be the invisible middle child? Not the smart one, not the sporty one, not popular, not anything.”

Pacing across the room, he raked his hands through his hair, that familiar feeling of being lost in the dark, alone in the world, nowhere to turn for help or comfort began to soak through his body. It didn't matter how many times he told this story it didn't take away that pain.

He always thought it would, and it did for a little while, a day or two maybe, but then it came back.

He was back to being that scared little boy, desperate to please his parents, get them to notice him, but deep down knowing it would never happen.

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