Real love is when you know you should kill her, but you can’t. So you dream about her every night…
She was raising her hands to his face. Her eyes were warm and inviting. He was distracted by the luster of her hair, honey color, made to almost sparkle by the sunlight streaming into her room. What color were the blinds…or were they shades? He could spot the room from outside if he knew that. He could stand on the grass below the dorms and see if the windows had shades. But maybe they were all alike? He focused on the room again. The pink shag rug on the floor would only help if he got inside. The mess on the bed opposite her bed…no help at all. Every college dorm is a bit messy. The panties were cute though. They were on the roomie’s bed.
She was kissing him. It was a light touch on the lips that was becoming more urgent. He was responding. As much as he wanted to resist, he was melting under her lips. She pulled back and he saw those blue eyes. Why can’t I trust her? He gazed into her eyes, but they revealed nothing. She smiled and he felt her eyes boring into his. Would she see the eyes of a lover, or the eyes of a killer? He had tried to kill her before, but something had saved her, some force he didn’t understand kept saving her. He wondered if it was him subconsciously not wanting to do what he knew he had to do. She wants everything from you. You can’t let her live.
He felt his shirt buttons open, one at a time, so slowly that each touch of her fingers against his flesh sent a tiny spark to his brain. The vision was almost at an end. It was the same vision he had seen for months before she appeared. It was the vision that was haunting him. She stepped back, a look of confusion. “Why aren’t you reacting?” her eyes asked. “Don’t you want me?”
Sweat was beading on his skin. Of course he wanted her. He stared in stony silence as she removed her blouse and dropped it on the tiled floor. Tiles…white…shiny…a clue? His hands lowered to her shoulders. Oh God, they felt so smooth…no tattoos…he had hoped…that would be proof he had the right girl, wouldn’t it? His hands slid along her shoulder blades.
She was watching him, her eyes focused on his eyes which he now closed in a silent prayer. A few more seconds. “Enough,” he rasped, as she lowered herself to the floor. He saw the confusion on her face. “Shelly, I love you,” he said, as his hands clamped tightly around her throat.
He heard a scream and awoke in the dungeon-like room in the Psych B Building that housed Dr. Lasker and the Parapsychology Department. He knew Shelly was asleep on the lower floor. He had been in her room and covered her with a blanket. How innocent she looked, hair splayed against the tan sheet, fingers curled around the end of the pillow. The other pillow was temptingly near. If he used it, she would no longer be a threat. Dr. Lasker could not let him go if there wasn’t anyone to replace him. More importantly, he would be free of his recurring vision. There was only one problem, one thing holding him back. As much as he feared her, he wasn’t sure he could kill her, at least, not yet.