Page 93 of Stalker

I love you.

And I know I shouldn’t have lied to you about who I really was. I simply didn’t know how to convince you to love both sides of me.

The sane, and the not.

The good man, and the wicked one.

But fuck, Puppet, loving you is easy. God, it’s the most natural thing I’ve ever felt before. It gives my deepest troubles peace for the first time in my life. I’m so sorry I broke you before I told you that.

I’m so sorry you know what happened to you that night, because the only thing I ever wanted was to shield you from that memory returning. I never wanted that pain in your soul. I wanted to burden that for you. Damnit Peyton, I wanted your soul free of that darkness.

I should have given you that choice, and I should have been there to hold you when you saw it. I should have done better.

I’m sorry.

You came into my life because I needed you. My need manipulated every single piece of our story past you applying for a random job. My desires and needs were the driving force for everything.

But no more.

I’m giving you the choice to let me back in or not. I’m begging you to give me the chance.

The cell phone and the tablet were programmed specifically for you by a friend of mine. They’re completely impenetrable to me, I can’t access them no matter how hard I try.

And I’ll fucking try, because I’m that obsessed with you.

But you’re safe, and you’re in control. Because they’re not only impenetrable to me, but they’re also linked to me.

To my phone.

To my cameras.

To my life. You have full access to every single second of my life.

Watch me. Study me.

Stalk me, Puppet.

You’re in control of this, from this moment on. Learn as little or as much about me, both sides of me, as you want. But I beg of you, baby, give me the chance.

Give me the chance to show you every part of me before you decide if you can let me in again.

I love you.

I’ll always love you.

I’ll always want you.

Come home to me, Puppet.

Come home to your monster and let me feed your needs the way only I can.

-Yours, Dane.

My tears blurred the ink at the bottom of the page and I tipped my head back to staunch the flow as I waved the paper back and forth through the air, trying desperately to dry it.

I wanted to reread his words every single day because they were the truest things I’d ever been given from someone before. I believed every one of them.

But I didn’t know how to go back to him after everything, so much time had passed.

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