Page 13 of When Night Falls

It was a feeling I will always remember; being drawn to the very moment I met my fate.

Pain scratched at my brain as the wicked song of cries shifted in the air. When I found the source—a small home a few blocks from where I picked up Troy—I noticed that the front door was surprisingly open. Something about the cries for help drew me in. They were the kind of cries that could make your throat go raw after so long, and I felt obligated to investigate, so I welcomed myself inside.

As I followed the echoed cries, I found myself scanning the pictures on the wall. One photo seemed to be a family picture of an older man, a sour-looking woman and two younger girls. But it was the other picture that knocked the very air out of my lungs.

A school picture of a girl who looked to be about twelve, long dark colored hair in French-braids and a pair of eyes I'd recognize anywhere. Not that I've seen her before . . . but rather her eyes. There's no mistaking a rarity in color like that.

But my thoughts were interrupted at the sound of another scream, so I proceeded toward the chaos and I was not expecting what I stumbled upon when I followed the shouts for help.

I was irate and quite frankly, a little disturbed, to see what I was witnessing. The man from the family picture had the girl from the school picture pinned underneath him, rage boiled in my veins.

I don’t often find myself in positions to occasionally murder the random strangers and enjoy myself a little midnight drink—that would be against the law. But I fancied myself tempted as I closed myself in on the inebriated bastard.

I could feel the alcohol levels he possessed, but that wasn’t the reason why he was doing what he did. I felt hatred radiate from him and he raged for a need to gain control. He was trying to punish her for something that she couldn’t have possibly done. And even if she did play a part in the crime he thought she committed, it was too dark a fate for her. Something gnawed at me to save her from that evil. Evil that brought back some triggering thoughts for me, thoughts that only fueled my desire for retribution for promises I didn’t know I could keep.

Just then I’d heard the crack of a whip, or rather his belt from what I had turned to catch sight of. The fucking bastard slapped her along her cheek; a drop of blood cried from the break in her skin. I realized I had wasted too much time and I needed to act swiftly, especially with the metallic-scented liquid quickly getting to my head.

But I had to focus on stopping this madman from harming the girl he held captive. One, I had felt some kind of irrational connection to her. But two, if she really was who I thought she was, then I was going to need her later.

It doesn’t take much to make one do what I wish, accessing the compulsion with my mind. It allows me to halt the signals in one's brain where I can control what they say or do, or what they can't say or can't do. I can make someone do anything I wish. In the instance of Lucynda's attempted rape, I rewired the thoughts that were enabling this disgusting pig's actions and had controlled his next move, making him feel nothing as he acted next.

I can make it harmless or excruciatingly painful. But I had to remember that I didn’t have time to stop to save this girl to begin with, so I made it quick, removing him from her space and forcing his mind to be trained of the thoughts that he wouldnever lay another hand on her again, or even look at her for that matter.

Little did any of us know, I would be back not only to avenge this girl but to kickstart the plan of revenge that ran through my brain like a fucking disease.

PRESENT DAY - October 11th

She's the very thing that haunts my being when I wake and the only thing that I can seem to focus on when I lie my head down on my pillow at night. She's the one thing I can see saving me from myself and the pain I suffer every day.

But the magnitude in which she possesses, the she has me in, is something I wasn't expecting. She is undeniably the perfect candidate for what I need her for. In more ways than one.

When I first found her battered and abused, I had no idea that our untimely encounter would lead to this very moment. I take pity on innocence being molded into something formed from hatred; abused by monsters. A feeling I know all too well. She was merely a girl who already appeared to be so utterly broken.

But now, as I sit on the rustic metal chair placed just outside of the balcony to her quaint little apartment, I see a girl who has the potential to revel in her pain. I see the remnants of confidenceand strength exude from her while I watch her through the window, cooking herself dinner under the dim, amber lighting of her kitchen.

She truly is remarkable; a prepossessing sight. One that I reluctantly crave, especially on nights like this. I watch her sway her body back and forth to some dark academia lo-fi sounds she has shuffling on her phone. Steam rises up from the pan of sauce she’s stirring like second nature.

I haven't seen Lucynda since the night I saved her from her father—other than my late-night stalking sessions since the week she moved in—but I was always working behind the scenes to get her here, never missing an opportunity to plot for her arrival. And when Ifelther presence in Shadow Creek, I knew everything was working out perfectly. But I didn't expect this damn soul bond to tempt me the way that it has—something that I soon realized was the explanation for the gravitational pull I keep feeling for this girl.

Anima vinculumscan develop pretty much the day a person is born. Typically, it creates a draw between two people but it’s strongest when they are closer to the age of transition ability, which is eighteen. The tether is of Nature’s doing and is beyond anyone's control.

Since she's moved in, I've kept my eye on her. I made it my mission to make sure that my plan follows through and that I succeed in capturing Lucynda's attention, even if it means stalking her and helping her along to make sure I get her where I need her, knowing my intentions aren't entirely pure. I know what I have to do.

Along the way, I’ve noticed her love for cooking and how she dances in the kitchen, whipping up new recipes for“dishes for one”which she finds on her Pin-Me app. How her strikingly snow-white hair is usually braided effortlessly down her back before bed, and how she loves her silk pajamas. I notice her lovefor reading and I can tell in her eyes when she's daydreaming. I recognize when her daydreams are of happily ever afters or that of a vengeful plot to impose harm on some of her past villains. Though, those thoughts have faded over time as she forces herself to be better than them, but I’m not entirely convinced. I know that it's what she craves most.

Though, of all the things I've watched and witnessed, this is my favorite; when she’s putting on a show for no one but herself.

Or so she thinks.

I never thought to put cameras in her home. If I’m going to gain her trust, I need to halt the invasion of privacy at some point. So, I manage to spy on her in a more personal proximity. Only getting close enough to quell the ache of needing to be near her. Despite the fact that I know my agenda requires needing her for selfish reasons, I can’t help the covetous feeling that torments me, needing to breath her very air.

Just as I decide my time is up and I’ve had enough shadowing for one evening, Lucynda turns to her sink to drain the noodles she had been boiling, and I notice one of the spaghetti straps to her dusty pink silk top slips off her shoulder. I get to my feet, feeling high from watching her so intimately; I can feel the hunger race through my veins, it's pain and adrenaline mixing in a sinful tangle of need.

Her skin looks so soft and smooth, I can practicallyfeelher from here. The only word to accurately describe it iscarnal; the way that I need her.

She uses her thumb to pull her strap back into place and it slips again, but this time she ignores it. I can make out the trace of her breasts and her nipples start to harden. The way her body moves to the song she’s listening to and the way she bites her lip when the steam from the hot noodles stings the tips of her fingers; everything about her sets my fucking world ablaze. She's an enchantress.

And it's dangerous.