She Doesn’t Even Know I Exist: A short story about a serial killer

Warning! Graphic!

SHE DOESN’T KNOW I EXIST

Diary Entry June 1st I remember the first time I saw her. She was coming out of the gym, sweat still lathered on her face. I followed her home. I don’t think she saw me, but after that first day, I became a bit paranoid while following her. I don’t want her to see me. Not yet. It’s been two months now, me following her, fantasizing about the taste of her, the smell of her, how it would feel to be inside of her. I watch her from afar. I have broken into her apartment twice now just to watch her sleep. It is intoxicating to know I could do anything as I stand over her, anything at all and she doesn’t even know I exist. I found out today what her name is. It’s Victoria and they call her Tori. She is my victory over loneliness. I stole her dirty panties this morning while she was taking a class at the local college. I want her in the worst way. I want to touch her, I want to give her myself. I want to hurt her too. Part of me wants to hurt her because she would never notice a guy like me. She would call me a “creeper” and laugh. Lots of women have done that to me, and a few have paid for their laughter. I dug through my closet this morning to find my black ski mask. Soon she will be mine forever. I have pictures of her now that I have taken with my digital camera. Some nights the ecstasy of looking at her brings me to a an ejaculation so quickly that it pulls at my chest. Diary Entry June 30th I found a way to watch her shower. There is a small closet next to her bathroom that you can get into via the apartment hallway. A step ladder and the hole I drilled aids me in my endeavors to view her beauty. She is 22. Her long blonde hair is not real. She doesn’t wear lipstick but is fond of strawberry chapstick. She leaves a strip of hair when shaving. How I long to sink my teeth into it. I lick my lips as I watch her undress and ease into the shower. Her breasts are the perfect size. I wonder if she will scream when I bite those. I wonder if she will enjoy it when I pull her hair. Her roots are showing, how I hate that. I want to cut all her hair off. I want to pull it out in handfuls and listen to her scream. I want to maim her for what she is, what she stands for. I am breathing hard at my own fantasies. Tonight at midnight it will the year anniversary of Sarah. Tonight will be the night I make more memories. I have the camera, the knife, the saw in my backpack. When she leaves for class, I will let myself into her home. She will never even know I am there…

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