Page 8 of Closer Than You Think
With nods and grunts of agreements, they shuffle from the room once again and I’m left alone. Once again.
My mind is reeling between two things. Blood and Hallie. One will have to wait. But the other . . .
It’s dangerous visiting Hallie before nightfall, but the haziness of dusk and the bustle of evening rush hour should be enough to conceal me. Only, when I reach her apartment, she’s not there.
I swing around the building and get inside the front door far too easily. Too many people will just hold a door open out of politeness, not realizing they could be letting a killer into their “secure” building.
But I don’t complain for now, because it works in my favor. Plus I have a plan to make sure Hallie is safe. I climb the stairs to the second floor and note all of the details.
Threadbare carpets line the stairs, but the one in her hallway is moderately newer. Sconces light the stairwells and each hall every ten feet. The place is cloaked in landlord-gray, but it looks relatively clean.
There are only four apartments on each floor, and Hallie’s is the far one facing the back of the building. I walk down the hall, listening for her neighbors. A loud TV plays behind the door of 2A. 2B is vacant, as I’ve noted from my visits to the fire escape. But 2C is a concern as the door directly faces Hallie’s. If I’m not careful, a nosy neighbor could watch me from the peephole.
But I’m not an amateur, so I’ve come prepared for that. I slip my hand into my pants pocket and pull out a small lock-picking kit. I unzip it silently, then grab what I need. A small, round sticker. Before I even approach the door, I have it positioned on my finger. A second later, in complete silence, it now covers the peephole and the neighbor is none-the-wiser.
I glance down the hall again to make sure no one else is coming. The stairwell is blocked by a partial wall, so unless someone wants to come down this hall, they won’t see anything by using the stairs.
I slide the pick into the simple lock on Hallie's door. These old buildings never bothered to upgrade security. As the pins click into place, the knob turns and I enter her apartment. Too easily.
The scent of flowers greets me, the same familiar scent I’ve breathed in from outside her window. I don’t know what kind of flowers—hell, I can barely tell the difference between a rose and a lily—but now when I smell them anywhere, I only think of Hallie.
The very hint of it is enough to have me hard as a rock, but now, surrounded by the scent that is purely her, I can barely move from the arousal. I shut the door and adjust my cock in my pants, willing it to wait.
I glance around, imprinting every detail into memory.
Mismatched throw pillows decorate an overstuffed couch that looks well-loved, with a handmade quilt draped across the back. Framed pictures of smiling children line the walls, no doubt her students over the years. A bookshelf overflows with novels, everything from Dickens to King.
I brush my fingers over the spines, imagining her curled up late into the night, lost in imaginary worlds where darkness is purely fiction. If only she knew that monsters walk beside her on the street, sit next to her in restaurants, lust after her pure heart . . .
I pause and take a breath, reigning in my urges. I'm here for her protection, not to indulge my desire. At least not yet. Moving to the window, I check the locks. Flimsy at best. I make a note to install better security measures when I return.
For now, I retrieve a few of the pinhole cameras I brought, expertly hiding them around her living room and kitchen. Now I'll be able to keep watch even when I'm not here. The cameras connect wirelessly to an encrypted feed only I can access. No one else will violate her privacy this way.
The thought brings me comfort and excitement in equal measure.
I know I should leave, but the temptation is too great. Slowly, reverently, I open her bedroom door. The scent of her envelops me. I trail my fingers over her pillow, imagining her hair splayed across it. My heart pounds with feral need.
I inhale deeply, trying to concentrate on the task at hand as I take in her room. A nightstand holds a crystal candle and a half-empty water bottle. Her current read, a romance novel judging by the couple on the cover, lies open on the nightstand, the pages crumpled from where she must have read late into the night. Her closet door is ajar, clothes hanging neatly andmeticulously folded on the rack within. A pair of black lace panties catches my eye, silk against the wood shelf.
I can't help but wonder if they're clean. My mouth waters at the thought of her soft skin against them. My heart pounds. Before Hallie, it’d been so long since I've felt anything like desire, but she brings it out in me.
The nightstand drawer slides open with a whisper of metal on wood. It's not locked, and I'm grateful. I spy a box of tissues, a bottle of sleeping pills, a collection of condoms, and a worn photo album. The pictures inside are candid shots of her and her friends from college days, all smiles and laughter. She looks so young and hopeful in them, so beautiful.
She’s even more beautiful now, older and more sure of herself. I eye the condoms again. Hallie hasn’t dated anyone since that loser Teddy. What if she finally feels ready to try again? What if she brings a man back here, into her private space with her flower scent and soft sheets? What if she lets him fuck her?
Thinking of the cameras, I’m reassured I’ll be able to stop that from happening long before it gets that far. I carefully replace the album, but swipe the condoms and shove them in my pocket so I can throw them in the trash later. She won’t be needing these ever again.
God help me if she tries to fuck another man. I’ll kill him right here in her bed. It would be traumatizing, I guess, but she’d finally know how far I’d go for her. What I’d do for her. She’d know not to make that mistake again. The thought arouses me as much as it infuriates me. My dick twitches, begging for release. I eye the black lace again, salivating at the thought of shooting my load all over it, but there’s not enough time.
I exit the room and walk back through the apartment, careful to turn off lights and lock her door behind me. She’ll be homesoon, and as much as I’d love to stay and jerk myself off to her undressing again, I can’t quite find the control I need tonight. Something tells me if I stay, I’ll end up doing something to scare her. Something I’ll regret. So I leave now, forcing what little control I can manage.
I have the cameras, after all. My own personal Hallie TV. And one day soon, I’ll have the real thing.
Four
Hallie
The school bell's shrill cry slices through the afternoon hum of Alcott City, signaling my release. Students pour out of my classroom like water freed from a dam, leaving behind a silence that echoes with their laughter and chatter. I gather my things slowly, the weight of the evening's impending encounter settling over me like a shroud.
