Chapter 11

Trigger warning: This part contains explicit descriptions of murder, rape and/or torture, which may be disturbing or triggering for some readers.

October 7th

It had been too long since I saw her last. Almost a month.

Staying away hadn’t been my intention. If I had my way, I’d see her every day. But there were finals at the university, and then I went out to Los Angeles to visit Sophia—I took her to Disneyland while I was there. Even offered to take Jane, too, but she was still annoyed at me for coming by without calling first. Hello? Sophia’s my fucking daughter. I can see her whenever I want…even the courts say so—and then, of course, there were the girls.

All. Those. Girls.

They present themselves more often now than they had in the past. Sometimes I even have trouble keeping up with them. Maybe it’s something in the air. Whatever it is, the compulsion is strong. My need to destroy, to teach them a lesson. I left a trail of bodies in my rearview mirror. Evil had been working overtime, and so had I.

This was the real reason I hadn’t been by Emmy’s lately. After all, she’s something different. Unlike any of the others. The ultimate dream girl.

In fact, I’ve taken to dreaming about her most nights, my mind coming up with the most satisfying scenarios…

Do people know that some sleepers can control their dreams? Well, I’m one of them. I looked it up once on some Dream/Sleep institute site and it said it was a sign of high intelligence. I would have to agree. Even when I’m unconscious I’m in charge.

I’m not sure how I always know they’re dreams, but I do, and after realization sets in, I live out my wildest fantasies. Some of them are bloody, violent. I do to her what I’d done to the others. Dominate her, punish her for the things she’s done wrong. Other times, I’m sweet, the way a boyfriend should be. In these, Emmy is more like my partner-in-crime, like the Bonnie to my Clyde. And she likes me for me. The real me.

Oddly, these are my favorite kinds of dreams, and I always wake up turned on, trying to cling desperately to the fantasy my mind’s created.

When I finally made my way to Emmy, it was like seeing a lover for the first time after being away at war. We could’ve been the only two who existed in the world for all I cared. In fact, I would’ve preferred it that way.

It was only by chance that I saw her that day—a clear sign we were supposed to be together. I’d stopped by her apartment earlier to see if she’d wanted to hang out, but nobody was around. I was getting her weekly schedules now, so I knew she wasn’t at work either. She could’ve been anywhere.

I began to drive home, annoyed that my plan hadn’t worked out the way I’d wanted it to…

When I saw her.

I couldn’t imagine my luck, and grinned stupidly. Like a drunken fool.

She was sitting on a bench at the side of the road, a few blocks from her complex. Another girl, this one blond and young like Emmy, sat next to her, typing away on her phone. Neither of them talked to each other, almost like they were strangers, though I doubted it.

I drove past the bus stop and then made a U-turn, pulling up right in front of where they were waiting.

As soon as Emmy saw me, I could tell she was happy I was there. Her face lit up. Like I was her knight in shining armor come to save her. And I wanted to be that for her.

“Hey, Emmy!” I’d said, leaning coolly out of my car window. “Where ya headed?”

Emmy gave a sideways glance at her companion, and rolled her eyes, as if to tell me that she wished she were alone. Then she called back, “Just going into the city to do some shopping.”

“Oh, yeah? Want a ride?” I’d asked.

I purposely didn’t invite the other girl, hoping that Emmy and I could be alone. This was what she’d been counting on, too. I could tell by the way she smiled, like we were sharing a secret.

Emmy got up and sauntered over to my car, hopping inside after I pushed the door open for her. Then she gave a little wave to the girl staring after her from the bus bench and we shot off down the street, Emmy letting out a carefree laugh that I was sure the whole world could hear.

I took her up into the mountains. We drove in complete silence the whole way. But it was comfortable, like we didn’t have to fill the air with useless noise and conversation that didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. Every once in awhile, I’d look over and she’d be smiling at me, excitement in her eyes, but never asking me where we were going. Just enjoying the ride.

When we got to the cabin, she jumped out and raced me to the porch, giggling and teasing me as she ran. I let her win, but picked her up in a sort of victory lift, that ended with me carrying her across the threshold.

As Emmy’s eyes adjusted to the darkness inside, she sucked in a stunned breath.

“It’s incredible!” she’d squealed, twirling around and around until she fell down laughing.

I chuckled too, walking slowly over to her and lowering myself until I was just above her, our bodies hovering inches apart.

“Are you impressed?” I’d asked, pulling off my glasses and setting them aside, so they wouldn’t get broken.

She’d nodded, biting her bottom lip suggestively.

“It’s perfect. You’re perfect,” she’d answered.

“Can I get you anything? ” I’d asked, thinking of all the ways she could respond to that, and all the different directions the night could take us because of it.

“Just you,” she’d answered. “I don’t want anything else.”

And then we were kissing. Her tongue feverishly darting in and out of my mouth, like she couldn’t get enough of me. She was hungry for it, and I wanted to give it all to her.

I rolled us over, until she was on top of me, and then I reached up and worked my finger underneath the strap of her top. I pulled it back and then let it go, watching with glee as it snapped back into place with a loud smacking sound.

She yelped, but the pain only seemed to excite her, and she threw her head back, exposing her long neck to me and pushing her breasts my way.

“Oh, God!” she’d moaned.

“Nope, just me,” I’d said with a smile, and then in one motion, pulled her top down so that she was exposed from the waist up.

Feeling an almost inhuman strength surge through my body, I stood up, her lean legs still wrapped around my hips tightly. I took long strides across the living room, until we were standing in the kitchen, and then finally set her down on top of the stove. There were counters nearby, a table, plenty of places to do what we were about to do, but I wanted her on the stove.

She was kissing me again now, running her fingers through my hair, pulling it hard like she was reminding me of how she liked it. Rough. I tried to pull her top up and over her head, but it wouldn’t budge, and after a few seconds I realized it was attached. She was wearing one of those leotards. The ones that looked like a one-piece swimsuit, that ballerinas danced in.

“It’s more fun on,” she whispered sexily, and then put my hand in between her legs and helped me push the material away.

I couldn’t get my pants off fast enough and then I was in, moving as fast and hard as I could, the metal stove shifting and screeching beneath us. One wrong move and the burners could flicker on, leaving Emmy screaming and scarred. The danger was so hot for both of us that it only took a few seconds before we were both climaxing, crying out in agony and ecstasy.

We collapsed to the floor, her skirt catching on one of the knobs on our way down, causing an orange and blue flame to shoot up into the air with a loud “tick, tick, hiss.”

“That was close,” I’d said, looking past her head at the stove.

“That was fucking awesome,” she’d responded, breathing heavily, her eyes drooping like she was high.

We both started laughing then, just lying there, body parts all tangled up like broken store mannequins. The air smelled like sex and sweat and pine needles and I wondered how long it would linger in the cabin.

Would the smell still be there the next time I drove up? Was there a way to preserve it somehow? Capture a piece of our special night together?

The night we’d first made love?

But then I remembered that over a dozen women had been put down in this same cabin, and those smells hadn’t stuck around, so why would this one?

It was a sad thought, but probably for the best. Leaving evidence behind—good or bad—wasn’t smart.

Besides, I have this journal to commemorate the occasion. And memories are forever…

We spent the night together. Screwed a few more times. Had breakfast, and then I dropped her off at her place the next morning. It was the perfect night.

It’s too soon to tell Emmy this, but I’m really happy with our relationship. It’s exactly what I’ve been looking for and yet never knew I wanted all at the same time.

Could this be…love? Could it change everything?