There's nothing like a mad woman.
𝔖
(Y/n) Stark
"So... did you like my bra?"
I ask.
Life as an anonymous serial killer used to be so simple. As long as I do my things in private, keep out of sight, and don't hang out with anyone at college so they don't intervene. But now, I've got a stalker.
A-guy-in-class, he used to be one of them. But now I know his name is Peter Parker, he follows me everywhere, making it hard to lose his sight and go do my own thing. Things like murdering people.
Being a killer requires knowing basic simple stalker traits, therefore; I know when I am being followed at all times. It's going to wreck me up unless I get this mess sorted out.
But when you have routines together, living in the same neighborhood, going to the same college. I knew I'd bound up to blow my cover one day. And today when I thoughts I lost him around the suburb rides, he managed to show up at my cabin.
To hell with it then.
"I said, did you like my bra?" I ask. After I tie him up with some ropes.
Peter Parker is all confused and lost. He obviously didn't know I knew he followed.
So I slap him. Hard.
That sends his attention back straight to my question. Peter Parker blinks repeatedly multiples times then gulps. "The bras... ugh, which one?"
"Lucifer help me."
I sit back down on my wooden chair.
"You're making this so hard for me."
"I..."
"Listen here. It's one thing stalking people. It's another thing killing people. And it's a whole another big pile things of shit stalking a killer."
"You... are a killer?" He asks. He looks like a lost puppy that can't find its way home.
"Look at what I just did to Coby. I killed him. But he can't confirm that only because he's dead."
"I— I..." Peter closes his red, welled-up eyes and nods repeatedly. "I am just, trying to process this."
"Process this...?"
"I didn't think you were..."
"Like this?" I ask, not sarcastically anymore. I actually wonder what made him stalked me. "Like a lunatic?"
"..."
"What did you expect from me? The quiet, shy girl needing help?"
"I saw you on the street that day." He looks at me, sniffing his red nose. "It was raining, the storm was approaching. I was running, and so were you. We bumped into each other, I stared into those eyes of yours before..."
