Page 16 of Drowned In Silence
Steep Cliffs
Elliot
Playing with Dynah ismy new favorite pastime. I really should be doing anything but this, but I can’t help myself. She has become an obsession. She is the thing that occupies my mind every second of every day. If I’m not watching her on the cameras, killing someone on her behalf, or stalking her in a field at night, then I’m getting three or less hours of sleep. It’s been a long couple of weeks.
I’ve never been this way with anyone before, never felt attached to someone like this. Even Pen wants to know what’s wrong with me, and I don’t even have the words to tell him. Just watching her day in and day out has turned my life upside down. Her little quirky faces when she is watching a documentary on tv. The look in her eyes when she fakes an orgasm with someone. The confusion that crinkles her forehead every morning when her regular guys never come to visit her.
My vision of the girl in the photo is morphing. I used to see a broken little girl, but now I see a beautiful woman.
I’ve spilled the blood of every single one of their bodies within thirty minutes of leaving her door. I get immense satisfaction when they cry about how they will never visit her again, and well, I make sure of that. I don’t want anyone touching my girl. I’ll be there for her–the only person there. I’ll take her away from her pains and give her only pleasure.
I’m interrupted from my new normal routine of watching her on the cameras by Spencer walking out of his room in his boxers.
“Really?” I snap. He walks into the kitchen, brewing coffee and making a bunch of noise.
“Wow, a little testy today. What has your panties up in a bunch?” Pen asks with mock enthusiasm.
“I’m trying to do something, and I swear everytime I get comfortable, you wake up loud and proud.”
“Put your dick back in your pants and come get another cup. With your cock out and your head in the clouds, you're turning into more of an asshole than usual.”
I slam the laptop closed and throw the pillow it was on, onto the ground. This fucker, always fucking interupting the good shit. A fucking cock block is what he is. I shove myself back into my sweats and enter the kitchen behind him.
Swinging the fridge door open aggressively, he pushes past me smirking at my irritation.
“Oh come on, bro. I know she’s good looking, but you don’t have to be pissed that I caught you staring at her cameras… Again. I know you finally found her, but jesus christ,” he laughs.
I roll my eyes and plop down onto the stool at the counter with a huff. “What is it that you really want, Pen?”
“We need to talk about actually taking this girl in forwork, rather than stalking her, you fucking creep. This is out of your normal, and I wanted to seriously check on you before you dive off this weird cliff you’re on. I thought you wanted to save her if she needed saving, ask her some questions about the fucking picture you so cherish, and then we’d go back to normal.”
“I’m not on a cliff,” I argue. He hands me a fresh cup of coffee and I take a sip, burning the fuck out of my tongue. “What did you do to this? Brew it in a volcano or some shit? This is hot as hell!”
He laughs as he takes his own small drink, panting like a dog when he, too, burns his tongue. “I warmed it up in the microwave after I added creamer. It always gets too cold after you add the fluffy shit. And is that all you really caught from my whole speech?”
“You’re a freak, and I’m not a stalker.”
“Bullshit. You don’t fucking sleep, you watch the cameras every second of every day, you snuck into her room how many times now, and you fucking kill anyone who touches her. Tell me that’s not a damn stalker,” he enunciates.
“Fine. I’m her damn stalker. Why do you care?” I look down into my cup trying to ignore the look of satisfaction that crosses his face.
“What are you going to do about it?”
“I don’t fucking know. It’s crazy, I know. But, like… I’m fucking wrapped. I want to know everything about her. What makes her tick, what she hates, what she loves. I’m fucking nuts. How do I make it stop?” Spencer sets his cup down before he spills, laughing harder than I’ve ever seen before. I can’t tell if he is laughing at me, or with me, and it’s starting to piss me off even more. “Stop fucking laughing at me, or I’m going to turn you into chipped up Pen.”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Okay,” he tells me, trying to calmdown once again. He turns his entire body towards me, one leg on the ground, and one under him, now sitting on the counter. It almost feels like we're teenagers talking about the first set of tits we’ve seen. “I’m not laughing at the fact you’re obsessed. I’m laughing because you don’t know what to do. It’s simple. Make her yours. Make her fall in love with the unmasked version of you, drive her as crazy as you are, and then reveal yourself. If she is someone you want to keep, then keep her. It’s as easy as that. Stop being a little bitch, hiding behind cameras, and killing people out of jealousy, just go get her.”
After our lovely little coffee break, I fight myself to stay awake and not look at the cameras again.
I fail.
Cracking open the laptop, I pull open the app, searching the room for my sweet obsession. Instead of finding her alone, or with another fucking man, I find her being put into handcuffs and taken out of the room.
“What the fuck?” I yell into the empty living.
I stand up quickly, hollering for Pen.
“Do whatever you can, but she just got arrested and I need to know why,” I basically yell through the house.