Page 2 of Haunting Me

“Please…I.”

I don’t allow him to beg for his life. The blade slices through his neck, severing his carotid. His heart pumps his blood, and it spills out onto my hands. Euphoria courses through my body. The only thing better than this will be sinking balls deep into ma petite mort pussy.

Side-stepping to face him, “Thanks, Sammy. That was just what I needed!”

I take time to cut up Samuel’s body into small pieces, using the old meat packing equipment here in the warehouse. Easily disguising his flesh as ground meat, and just tossing it in the trash or feeding the sharks in the bay. I will burn the bones in the incinerator, leaving behind ashes.

It’s taken years to perfect my methods, and for the past four years, it has been flawless. By the time I am finished, I am starving! Who knew chopping up a body could make you so hungry? After heading up to the loft, I take a quick shower and change into clean clothes. Have to make myself presentable just in case I run into my girl.

Chapter two

L A Y N E

The light shines through my bedroom window. I stretch out and reach for my glasses. A piece of paper brushes my fingers before I get to them. I strained to read it without my glasses, but the blurry words on the paper read, " I'm coming for you Ma Petite Mort."

My little death. I don't belong to anyone. I've never had a partner or been in a romantic relationship.

Thanks for the reminder, creepy fucker.

What the fuck!

I look around my small apartment and wonder how someone broke in without me waking. The city is full of noise, though. I sleep like the dead. So someone could break in. Glasses on, I notice a water bottle and a white pill on the bedside table. My head is thumping, but I am not dumb enough to take a random pill sitting on my bedside table. I jump out of bed and sprint to the bathroom.

"No more drinking," I swear, hunched over. The alcohol helps me sleep. My brain will not shut off on its own. Even more so now that there is some creepy son of a bitch getting into my apartment. I brush my teeth and take a quick shower. Outfit of the day, vintage metal t-shirt, black mid-thigh skirt, and my knife harness and blades. A girl can’t be too safe in the city. After getting dressed, I make my way to the kitchen. I check the time.

“Shit!” I grab a granola bar, bag, and phone.

I rush out the door, locking it behind me. Tramping down the stairs, I make my way out of the building. I don’t have a car, who needs a car when they live in the city? I do, because I cannot for the life of me seem to get my shit together enough to be on time anywhere. Ride-sharing has been a godsend, but it's expensive. I’d rather be spending the money on a vehicle of my own. My ride is ten minutes away, so I pop into the pizza shop for a slice and a drink for the road.

“What’s up, Roman!” I shout over the noisy kitchen.

“Hey! Layne! Chica, where have you been? We practically have a whole pizza waiting for you.” I roll my eyes. All because I haven’t come down to the restaurant in a few days. It’s not been that long.

“Don’t exaggerate. You know me, always running late.” I said. He snorts as he puts a few slices in a small box and hands me a soda.

After thanking him, I pivot, making my way to the door. I stopped when I saw the most striking pair of green eyes staring at me. He is sitting at the table shoved in the corner, hood over his head. I can see his dirty blonde hair underneath, and it's a curly mess. He licks his lips like I am something for him to eat. My core aches just looking at him.

“You okay, Chica?” Roman calls to me, noticing I have stopped completely. He steps out from behind the counter.

“I’m good,” I shout back. Before I can even say anything, my phone dings, letting me know my ride is here. Our eyes connect for another moment. Shaking myself, I run out the door before the ride leaves.

Fifteen minutes later, I walked into the record/bookshop I work at. Late as fuck, I look around, hoping that the owner, Kris, isn’t here.

“You’re safe, LaLa,” Atlas shouts from behind the counter. He is sitting on a stool, book in hand. Thank fuck! I didn’t need to hear again about how my job was at risk because of my tardiness.

“Bitch, don’t you have a phone? You know you can set an alarm.” Atlas snorts at my disheveled appearance.

“Shut it, Atlas.” I set my bag and pizza box on the counter. “Want some pizza? Roman gave me enough for you, too.” Atlas’s eyes perk up at the offer of food.

“Are you banging him yet? You know he has the hots for you.” He says taking a slice of pizza out and moans. “The man can make pizza, and I bet he fucks like a God.”

I take a slice of pizza , taking a bite. The delicious greasy food soothes my empty, sour stomach.

“Then you fuck him,” I offered. Atlas knows I am a virgin.

“LaLa, he is hot. Why not? Who are you waiting for?” He says, bringing his hands to rest under his chin, leaning onto the counter.

That's the problem. I don’t know what I am waiting for. Someone who gets me and my quirkiness? Someone who won’t think I am fucked up for the things I like. My childhood was fucked and I just never wanted to drag someone down with how I can be.

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