In the eyes of predator

"Mom?" I called out from the balcony, a sense of uncertainty in my voice. She stood in the driveway, clutching two bags, and Uncle Greg was with her. My father observed silently, his gaze fixed on my mother. An unspoken tension lingered in the air, and deep down, I sensed that something irrevocable was happening. Still, a part of me resisted accepting the truth.

My mother was leaving us for Uncle Greg. As a ten-year-old, the gravity of the situation wasn't lost on me, but a fragment of my mind desperately clung to disbelief. I yearned for her to look back, to acknowledge the pain this departure inflicted. However, she walked resolutely toward the waiting car, Uncle Greg handling the bags and securing them in the trunk. The door closed, sealing the finality of the moment. I stood there, abandoned on the balcony, my father beside me.

I wished my mother would turn around, that she would cast one last glance back at the life she was leaving behind. But she didn't. The door shut, and the chapter of my childhood closed with it.

 *****

The day unfolded with a somber hue, the sky draped in dark clouds, signaling a gloomy Saturday morning. Undeterred, I embarked on a jog through the raven park, accompanied by the rhythmic beats of my music. The scent of morning fog lingered in the air, embracing the solitude of the moment.

As I paused for a stretching session, my senses alerted me to a looming figure ahead. A familiar scent wafted towards me, and when I looked up, I found none other than Mr. Sean, clad in his jogging suit.

"Mr. Riddle," I acknowledged his unexpected presence, a quiet 'fuck' escaping inside my mind. Encountering clients during my day off was not high on my list of enjoyable activities. His maroon eyes locked onto my green ones as he reciprocated, "Ms. Clement."

"It's nice to see you here," I replied, mustering a feigned happiness that concealed my irritation at the intrusion into my leisure time.

"And so are you, Ms. Clement. Mrs. Fabregas recommended this park for morning activities, and I was pleasantly surprised to spot a familiar figure. I only know Mr. and Mrs. Fabregas," he explained, wearing a charming smile. If my mind weren't so clear, I might have fallen for the charm, but instead, irritation simmered beneath the surface.

"Is Ms. Fabregas with you then?" I inquired. "No, I left her in her Zumba activities," he responded, once again accompanied by that disarming smile that seemed to belie any ulterior motives. Despite his seemingly genuine demeanor, my irritation lingered, an unwelcome companion to this unexpected encounter.

From a distance, the echoes of laughter reached us, drawing both of our attention towards the source. "It seems this place is for love couples," Mr. Sean remarked.

"Indeed it is," I replied, my gaze fixed on the two couples enjoying their moment of shared laughter. However, I harbored a secret knowledge about these seemingly innocent pairs. The woman, appearing to be in her thirties with blond hair and blue eyes, was none other than Elizabeth. She stood there, her companion, the mailman—a secret lover who discreetly delivered more than just letters to her house whenever her husband and children were away. 

"Well, it's nice meeting you, Mr. Riddle, but I still have something to do," I stated, hoping he would take the hint.

"Please, call me Sean," he insisted.

"I'll try my best," I replied. I harbored a reluctance to address clients by their first names. Such familiarity implied a connection beyond a professional one. Sean disregarded my reservations, taking my left hand and kissing it. Disgust simmered within me, but I masked it behind a forced smile before turning away, eager to conclude this unexpected encounter and resume my day-off activities.

As night fell, I commenced my hunt, the distant noises of the bar guiding me to my target. My mind focused on a specific individual, the man who had spent the morning with Elizabeth. My outfit, deliberately revealing, was a necessary guise to lure him in. I despised such attire, but circumstances left me little choice. Positioned in the truck I had been driving, I feigned smoking a cigarette.

The man I sought emerged from the bar, visibly intoxicated, and proceeded to vomit in a corner outside. After composing himself, he turned around and noticed me. A sly smile played on his lips, and I knew I had successfully baited him. I had anticipated his state, having observed him for weeks.

"Hi, there lady," he greeted as he approached. We stood in a dark corner, away from CCTV cameras and prying eyes. The unregistered truck ensured my anonymity, and no one would recognize me in the dimly lit surroundings. Seated on the trunk, I strategically displayed a hint of my legs, a silent invitation for him to come closer. My hands gestured towards him, a subtle signal luring him into the shadows. 

I observed the look of lust on his lips as he approached me. He snatched at my legs violently, but I stopped him with a finger. With a "uh, uh" gesture, I indicated my lower body. He moved between my legs and removed my underwear without hesitation, seemingly understanding what I was saying.

A drop of moisture appeared in his mouth as he moved inside my clothing. I moved his head farther apart because I wanted him to breathe in the poison I had deposited there. I couldn't help but smile as I felt the tingling sensation travel down my body from his breathing in the deadly stuff. I made sure he couldn't get away by wrapping my legs around his head and securely holding him in place.

A drop of moisture appeared in his mouth as he moved inside my clothing. I moved his head farther apart because I wanted him to breathe in the poison I had deposited there. I couldn't help but smile as I felt the tingling sensation travel down my body from his breathing in the deadly stuff. I made sure he couldn't get away by wrapping my legs around his head and securely holding him in place.

*****

Sean observed the scene unfolding from the balcony with an eerie calmness. The dimly lit establishment in front of the bar appeared empty, hiding the gruesome tableau within. His hand gripped a whisky bottle, and he took his time savoring the dark liquid. His gaze followed Astrid's movements, initially thinking she was seeking a casual encounter. However, as he witnessed the man's struggles and eventual demise, a chilling realization dawned on him. Astrid, whom he had encountered earlier that day, was not just seeking pleasure—she was orchestrating a calculated act of violence.

As Astrid disposed of the lifeless body in the truck, Sean's expression remained eerily composed. A sense of fascination crept over him, culminating in a disturbing yet charming smile. "It seems I found my soulmate," he murmured, acknowledging the sinister connection he felt with Astrid at that moment.