Page 4 of The Ripper

Right now, that same brain fixated on her.

I wondered why a college student was carrying a weapon in her bag, especially during the day. I understood the need to feel safe at night, when walking alone, but why on campus? Didn’t they check for things like this? Wasn’t there a rule against sharp objects? Was she a safety risk for my sister?

Did something happen to her that made her feel like she needed that knife? Was she scared of something? Someone?

What happened to you?

I nearly flinched as they shook hands, exchanging what I assumed were their names, because I noticed a long scar on the inside of her arm.

I tilted my head to the side and frowned, taking off my sunglasses as if that would have helped me see better.

Who did that to you?

~ Maybe she did it to herself.

~ Why would she do that?

~ Why do people do anything?

~ To feel something?

~ Or to stop feeling once and for all.

The line was surrounded by a tattoo I couldn’t figure out from the distance, and I licked my lips as I allowed my eyes to hover over her.

She was wearing a pair of jean shorts that hugged her perfectly full bottom, not the kind that revealed half of it, but those that reached mid-thigh, rather modest, and a peach-colored shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a few buttons undone, showing the perfect amount of cleavage while still being tasteful. Her hair was tied in a high, messy ponytail, long strands falling out of it as she elegantly wiped her sweaty forehead with the back of her hand, then used a tissue to wipe her hand and sprayed hand sanitizer on it.

So much grace in one single person.

She seemed so happy, so carefree, and I wanted to know what made her like that.

I took out my phone and snapped a quick zoomed-in photo of her, then looked at the pixels on the screen and narrowed my eyes.

Was she pretending to be someone she wasn’t? Was she truly and undeniably happy or was that wide smile a well-practiced mask? If that scar was self-inflicted, how did she become such a ray of sunshine?

Who are you, beautiful creature, and why are my palms sweaty when I look at you?

CHAPTER 2

A GLIMPSE AND A DANCE

GRIMM

4 years ago

I went back to Boston every two weeks, just so I could catch a glimpse of her again, for the photos I accumulated over the last two years were never enough to satisfy the hunger. That tempestuous need she implanted in my stomach with something as simple as a smile.

Her name was Arella Santino.

I found a pretty daring kid with a knack for hacking to find her and dig into her past, but there was nothing he could uncover about her before the age of nineteen, when she moved to the States and got into Harvard Med School, with a fucking scholarship. Other than that, the woman seemed to have appeared out of thin air. No birth records, no medical records, no insurance, not even a prior driver’s license, nothing from before she started college.

She was a ghost who’d materialized into a human being, and instead of growing bored with her, I became all the more obsessed.

I wanted to unfold her.

With her first semester of her final year of Med School underway, she was now twenty-four, and I had to see her, even if it was just for a second. I wanted to know the color of her eyes and hear the sound of her voice.

Over the last two years of watching her, I’d noticed more and more about her, like the fact that she only trimmed her hair once a year, and even then, she only took an inch off, keeping that beautiful blonde hair long as fuck.

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