Page 23 of That Time I Accidentally Became A Serial Killer

Every part of me goes still.

“Where is it?” I ask, voice steady.

She points to the trash can. I open it and see the unrolled condom. A crumpled note with it.

I bite the inside of my cheek until I taste copper.

She hugs her knees, voice unraveling.

“I heard him. Coming in then leaving. He walked up to the door more than once. I could hear him breathing. He leaned in… like he was trying to smell me through the crack.”

I squeeze my eyes shut for half a second. I can’t lose it now. Mari needs someone strong for her.

“He made something in the kitchen,” she adds, voice flat. “I heard the microwave. Plates. Silverware. Then nothing. For hours. I thought he was still out there, waiting. Waiting to see how long it would take me to break. To come out.”

I lower myself and take her hand.

“You did everything right,” I tell her. “You stayed safe. You stayed hidden. And now you’re not alone.”

She nods, mechanical.

And I know this is only the beginning.

He’s not just stalking her.

He’s hunting her.

And he’s not rushing. He’s savoring this.

“Okay,” I say gently. “I’m going to make some calls.”

She doesn’t stop me. Just curls tighter as I slip out.

First: security.

I step into the hall, grab my phone, and call an emergency locksmith. New deadbolts. Double key. Chain lock. Discreet install. I want it sealed tighter than Fort Knox before sundown.

Then the alarm company. Her place isn’t monitored—yet. By morning, it will be. I override the wait period not caring about the rush fee.

I head to my car, pop the trunk, and pull a Ziploc and gloves from one of the stocked boxes. Judge me when you live in this city and have OCD.

Back upstairs, Mari sits with her arms around her knees, rocking.

I don’t speak.

Just glove up, lift the condom from the trash using a tissue, and seal it in the bag.

“I’m calling someone to pick this up,” I tell her. “He probably didn’t leave DNA—but we’ll try.”

She doesn’t answer, but her jaw clenches. Soon, her aunt arrives and I can breathe easier knowing someone is here with her.

He’s wearing her down.

That’s the point.

He’s not trying to kill her—yet.

He wants her to wish she were dead first.

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