Page 10 of Tormenting Me

While savoring the bold aroma of the coffee, my phone suddenly rings. As I take out my phone, I see my Ma’s name displayed on the caller ID. I’ve been expecting her to call. She hadn’t called for her monthly check in and it was overdue.

I hit the accept button and say, “Ma, to what do I owe the pleasure on this fine Monday morning?”

I can hear her chuckle on the other end of the line.

“Ya cheeky bastard. It would be nice if you could call us now and then. Ya don’t have to wait until I call to check on you.” She huffs, sounding a bit upset.

“I’m sorry, Ma. I’ve been busy these past few months. The murder case and the girl I’ve been seeing have been keeping me preoccupied.” Well, it’s not a complete lie. Layne does keep me occupied at night. Breaking into her apartment and watching her sleep takes up a good portion of my time.

I smirk, knowing I’ll be in her apartment soon. My Ma chirps in my ear about all the things my Da and she have been doing on the east coast. It was a year later when they moved to Virginia after Siobhan’s tragic murder. I stayed behind, being twenty and in college for criminology. I didn’t want to leave. There was also the fact that my hobby needed to be here. This is where Siobhan is. Her grave is in Colma and I still visit her as often as I can.

“I was wondering when you were planning on coming to visit us,” she inquires. “It’s almost Thanksgiving. Should I expect you to be here?”

I know I need to go visit them. It’s been ages since I last saw them, and I miss them. I have until October’s end to win Layne’s love. If I know my Ma, she will want my girl there with me. Time to push this timeline of our meeting each other forward a great deal. I can do this. I already am obsessed with her, it’s the making her obsessed with me part that I’m worried about.

“Yes, Ma. I won’t miss Thanksgiving. Tonight, I’ll make the reservation for my ticket. Does that sound alright?” I hope this will satisfy her. “Tomorrow, I’ll give you a call to confirm everything. Since I have the entire week off, we can take the time to discuss my visit.”

“Wes,” she whispers, her voice barely audible, “I just want to make sure you’re being careful, love.”

Few know the truth about what I do in my spare time. My parents being two of those people, and I trust them completely. My uncle, Judge Robert Larimore, also knows what I do in my spare time. He does all he can to ensure that I am protected and even helps me with certain aspects of what I do. My education in criminology with a minor in forensics helps a great deal. I’m always furthering my knowledge, too. It was a risky move to becoming a district attorney investigator, but my reputation speaks for itself.

“Yes, I am. I promise, Ma.” I look over and spot Layne taking out the trash in nothing but a pair of shorts and a tank top. “Ma, I love you and Da. I promise I’ll be there with you guys in a few weeks, but I’m gonna get going. My girl’s waiting for me.” I hate rushing off the phone with her, but I need to run back home before I come back for my little stalking excursion.

Once I’m back at my loft, I change into my jeans, black shirt, and hoodie. I remember to grab my cigarettes and lighter this time before I head back out. On the drive back, I light one up. I need the hit of nicotine to help relax my nerves. Back at my spot a few blocks away, I sit in the car and enjoy my cigarette. The smoke hangs around, engulfing me.

With Layne’s apartment in view, I wait until the window goes black. As much as I want to watch her dance around, I wait, but her lights stay on longer than normal tonight. I wonder what’s troubling my girl. Is she sad? Does she feel lonely? All things I can make go away. If she’s sad, I would make her laugh. If she’s lonely, I would be there to hold her.

“Fuck,” I mutter aloud, knowing she needs me just as much as I need her. Before she knows it, she won’t be able to imagine her life without me. I’ll give her everything she needs. The lights go out and I climb the fire escape. I give the widow a pull upwards and it opens.

With conflicting emotions, I cautiously climb through the window. It’s not safe for her to leave her window unlocked. Does she know what city she lives in? But if she locked her window, there would be no more nights of watching her sleep. The crisp and cool air tonight makes me hesitate, unsure whether to leave the window open for fear of being caught. Layne is already fast asleep in bed, with the empty vodka bottle sitting on the counter.

The thought of her suffering alone breaks my heart. A voice inside me begs me to wake her up and let her know I’m here for her. I decide not to do that. In the corner, I quietly sit with my forearms resting on my knees, captivated by the sight of her sleeping. As I listen to Layne’s deep breathing, I feel my tension melt away. Her momentary relief brings me solace.

I stand up, taking slow steps towards the bed. Standing right beside her as she slept, I can feel the waves of adrenaline in my body. The thought of being caught sends a shiver down my spine. She could wake and see me next to her. It’s a fucking rush I’ve never felt before. I hastily unzip my pants and seek satisfaction through vigorous strokes. Fuck this probably looks insane. With my eyes closed and my head tilted back, I trace a gentle path down her thigh with my fingers.

The feel of her skin is velvety soft, tempting me to explore it with more than just my hands. The cold air causes her nipples to harden beneath her shirt. My tongue wets my lips, desperate for a taste of her. I breathe out, stifling a moan as I’m nearing the point of orgasm. It takes everything in me to stop. I remove my hand from her thigh, bringing it up to her face to push a tendril behind her ear. She shifts slightly and I freeze.

I back away slowly, shoving my cock back in my pants. I hear her heavy breathing and immediately turn towards the window and leave. As I walk back to my car, I can feel a sense of determination building within me, confirming that it’s finally time. Time to meet Ma Petite Mort.

Up close and personal.

Chapter eight

Layne

Things have been increasingly strange in my apartment over the past few months, and I can’t shake the feeling of being constantly watched. It’s possible that the excessive drinking I’ve been indulging in has been fueling my paranoia. I know I need to cut back on that.

There have been some unsettling things I can’t explain. For instance, a thong bodysuit in my dresser drawer, which Atlas swears he didn’t put there. I found a Gemini Syndrome shirt, the one I wanted from the concert mysteriously appearing on the back of my couch the next morning. But what bothers me most is finding the shattered glass by the window, cleaned up, even though I clearly remember throwing it against the wall and just leaving it.

One part suspects Atlas, and another wonders about Roman. Only his father has another key to the apartment. It would make sense, considering Roman has been persistently trying to pursue me for over a year, despite my constant rejections. The thought of him following me around though, kind of gives me the creeps.

To be honest, I don’t find Roman attractive at all. He’s too sweet and tries too hard to impress me, and we have nothing in common. That may work for some girls, but it’s just not my type. Atlas once jokingly described me as a combination of Morticia Addams and a goth librarian, and I’m okay with that. I don’t want a sweet mama’s boy like Roman in my life.

If I were to start dating, he would have to match my craziness and be able to put up with my moods. The chances of finding a man who will be able to tolerate me is unlikely.

Still, something seriously weird is going on. Atlas has tried to joke that maybe I have a ghost. I think I just might.

“Hey…if there are any ghosts that are haunting me, you could do something productive like pay some fucking bills or make sure I wake up on time, so I’m not late for work.”

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