𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐀𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 | 𝟏𝟖+

He paced.

He’d been pacing for what felt like hours, his nails digging so hard into his palms that they threatened to bleed. His mind was spinning and his body was itching. He felt sick. Anxious. Insane.

He could hear her sobs through the door. The crying. Oh God the crying.

The sound made him want to plug his ears and scream to drown out the noise, not because it upset him, but because it didn’t. He wanted to feel bad. He really did. He wanted to feel pity and regret and guilt. But he didn’t, he couldn’t. He’d come too far to let empathy stop him, to stop and think and fully process what he’d just done.

A part of him wanted to go into that room and get on his knees, to beg for forgiveness and apologize until his throat was on fire and his lungs were about to collapse. But he wouldn’t. He wasn’t sorry.

He was excited.

He had her. After all the planning, all the time he’d spent watching, waiting, plotting. The selfish greed that consumed him every time he thought of her sitting in that very room kept him from feeling anything but exhilarated. His skin buzzed with adrenaline, the sensation only causing him to pace faster.

He thought back to all those endless nights of the thought of holding her close, the image of affection replaying on loop as he lay in bed staring at the ceiling. All those nights of whispering her name like a prayer as he lost himself in delusion after delusion, the scenarios always leading to him running his pathetic hands all over his body in a disgusting act of desperation and longing, imagining it was her hands that traced his flesh and pleasured him.

But now she was here… and he didn’t have to imagine anymore. That thought alone sent his heart rate through the roof.

It was wrong. It was wrong and inhumane on every single level, but he ignored that fact. He was beyond logic at this point. He needed her like he needed air. It felt like he’d been suffocating his whole life until he had discovered her existence. She was his lifeline, whether she wanted to be or not.

He’d prayed so many times that God was probably tired of hearing his voice. For forgiveness, for a cure from whatever madness had possessed him to go through with the heinous acts that he had. God probably wasn’t even listening anymore, not after everything that he’d done.

Definitely not after what he was going to do.

He was a good man. He’d always been a good man… until her. The tiny sliver of rationality that he had left was still calling him out for his insane behavior and the crimes he’d committed, but he ignored it just like he had tried to ignore her. He had tried so hard to just leave her be, but no matter what he did, his mind would spiral back to her. It was always her.

The hunt for her was supposed to be harmless. He had just wanted to help. He had never meant to get tangled up in her life. It was a temptation that slowly grew into an urge, an urge that then blossomed into an obsession. The truth was that no matter how much he tried to rationalize and forget, there was one thing that had become abundantly clear:

They were both doomed the moment he’d laid eyes on her.

More sobs. She was wailing now, her words and pleas muffled by the door. She was clearly terrified, and rightfully so. He silently pleaded with her to himself.

“Please forgive me. Please, please pretend you want to be here. Pretend I didn’t take you. Pretend I’m still a man and not a monster.”

“Pretend that even after all this you’re still capable of loving me.”

She was going to be miserable at first, that much he knew. But maybe by some miracle she would learn he wasn’t so bad, that he could be kind and loving. He was going to be gentle with her. That’s all he wanted to do.

He couldn’t hurt her. He wouldn’t.

He bit his lip anxiously as he stared at the bedroom door before he finally made his move, beginning to take slow and measured steps towards the room. She must have heard because the crying got louder, more frantic. He stopped before the door and took a deep breath as he grabbed the doorknob, twisting it slowly and letting the door fall open.

There she was in all of her glory. Her arms curled around herself as her soft green eyes snapped to him, confused. Afraid. Disgust and repulsion and every awful emotion twisted the features of her beautiful face and made it look…pathetic. Her eyes were red from crying, her body trembling in fear. That look made him want to gouge his eyes out. He’d rather her spit in his face or look at him with pure hatred and anger. Anything but that frightened, pitiful expression.

A lump formed in his throat as he looked at her. All the words and speeches he’d prepared in his mind over and over again completely left him as he stood in the doorway, motionless and nearly holding his breath with anticipation. He was in awe. He had her. He finally had her.

After several seconds of silence, he finally spoke the only words that could come to mind.

“Hi, Elizabeth.”