Page 129 of Bake the Town Red

My hand balls into a fist on the dining table. My eyes squint at the looming evening just outside my window.

Back then, I shouldn’t have waited. I know that now. A kiss from her would’ve changed everything. It did when I went to see her again. A switch flipped within me. A glimmer of hope. A reason to fight.

The second I had my lips on her—when she kissed me back—I was ready to slay dragons. I’m sure it would’ve had the same effect over four years ago.

I would’ve watched the horrifying results of Ian’s breakdown. Would’ve mourned the senseless death of my grandma.

But instead of pushing Dahlia away, I would’ve kept her close. With her lips and arms and warmth, she would’ve reminded me that the safest place for Dahlia was with me.

The sound of my fist punching the table echoes in the silent apartment. Bounces on the walls. Lands inside my heart.

Being angry over the past is useless, I remind myself. I’m here for her now. I’m hers.

And tonight, I’m finally going to witness her murdering a person.

Jesus fuck, I’m hard just thinking about it. I’ll fuck my hand soon. When I watch her.

The clock on my laptop says it’s six thirty p.m. I have a little over an hour to kill.

There’s no need to go drill a hole in her wall. Already did that this morning. Dahlia told me where the best spot was afterI walked her to work. She said it would be the farthest away from prying eyes. I took her word for it, then drilled a hole with stray, healthy-looking dogs sniffing and barking around me.

As soon as I finished, she was there, in her bakery, slamming duct tape over the hole. Promised that I’d enjoy it more if everything—the room included—was a surprise.

So, yeah, I have nothing to do now.

Or do I?

The FyndUsHere Killer.

No one has disappeared or has been murdered since the last message.

He wouldn’t have given up. No fucking way.

My fingers fly on the touchpad of the laptop. The FyndUsHere website opens, and in a few clicks, I find a message from him. The timestamp states it was posted this morning.

It’s exactly as I suspected. Up there inhumor.

My game. My rules.

He could be planning a kill.

He could be baiting me.

I’d like to see him try. He doesn’t scare me. I murdered people who were bigger than me. Taller. Fiercer. If he wants me to have another blog post for him, to announce I’m ready for a fight, then he’s got it.

Readers,

I know you’ve been dying to hear about our October Killer’s tales. Well, they’ve been dormant for days. No one’s disappearedbehind the doors of a certain shop in Manhattan. There’s nothing to report there.

The FyndUsHere Killer, on the other hand, is very much active.

We, as a collective, have thrown a wrench into his plans the other day. I’m here to ask for your help to do it again.

Much like last time, we’re talkingcomedy clubs, rom-com movies, anything like that. Keep your eyes open for the FyndUsHere Killer.

They’d be there.

Fight this menace.

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