Page 22 of Stranger Session

I have to win her back.

Chapter Fifteen

Mariah

Fuck that guy. I mean, who does he think he is? How’d he even find me in the chatroom? Is he stalking me too? How does so much horrific shit even happen to one person? How do I meet two people that fuck up my night so colossally that I’m wearing a stained apron as a shirt as I drive home in the middle of the fucking night?

And to top it all off, I’m full of his come.

I pull into my driveway and rush inside before anyone sees me, because this is the biggest walk of shame in history. The moment I get inside, I rush to the bathroom, strip off my apron, and begin cleaning the mess between my legs. I want to scream. I want to cry. But I do neither. I go to the fetish website, block the fucking chatroom, and delete the stupid app off my phone. I’m done with it all.

Fucking men.

Fucking stalkers.

Oh, yeah. My stalker! Well, Sam, since I have to clarify who is who because I havetwoof them. I haven’t even givenmyself a moment to process what happened at the dumpster. He’s getting braver.

This is fucking insane.

This is all my fault.

This is what happens when you let fear turn into something else inside you.

I’ve done stupid shit like go into some online chat room looking for some strange. Because realistically, what were my chances of finding someone normal to fulfill some new fantasy my vagina conjured up because she got a little scared?

Alone in my house, I no longer feel safe. There aren’t enough locks on the doors and windows. I feel as if everyone is coming for me now. As if my world is so much smaller all of a sudden.

I can’t give these fucking men the power to make me feel so small and scared. They don’t deserve that. I have to find a way to take back my life. My sanity.

This is such a goddamn mess, and I wish I’d never gone to that photo shoot.

Del

Even several days later, I can’t stop thinking about her. Especially here, just outside Sarah’s house. At the place it all began. Flashes of our shoot cross my mind. I pull the picture from my pocket and run my thumb across the glossy surface.

We looked happy. We looked like we could have beensomething more. Then I had to go and fuck it up. Her face in the picture is so different from the look on her face in the cooler when she realized I’d do anything to be with her, even if it meant being someone else.

Sirens wail in the distance. This is the only house on the road, so I’m certain they’re heading here. I’m hidden in the brush, but I fall back a bit more to ensure I won’t be spotted. I squat behind a bush and watch the house. Faint screaming continues inside, and a smirk draws my lips upward because I know the source of each pained wail.

It’s perfect.

If I can’t be with Mariah, if I can’t protect her, I’ve at least gotten rid of the bigger problem.

The ambulance pulls up the driveway. Uniformed men take their time going inside, but the screaming finally stops. They haul him outside on a stretcher, and thick gauze pads cover each eye. They can’t hide the reddening skin around the white squares, though.

I hope he’s blind.

I hope his eyes never see Mariah again.

Sarah steps onto the porch. A tissue rests in her hands, and she uses it to dab her eyes. She shouldn’t cry over him. He’s a pervert. She watches as the ambulance drives him away.

I initially considered planting some pictures on his computer and reporting him to the police, but perpetual darkness is worse for someone like him. He can no longer look at unsuspecting women and young girls.

I’m comfortable with my decision.

As I make my way through the woods, a heaviness hangs over me. I thought getting rid of Sam would help me feel better, but it doesn’t. My thoughts still circle Mariah ina never-ending loop. She consumes my every waking thought. She sucks the soul from me in every dream.

During the day, visions of our trysts haunt me. Chasing her through the woods. Having sex with her. The way she couldn’t stay in character in the cooler because she wanted me that badly. Those memories are ingrained in my brain.

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