Stalker's POV:
It's 4:45 am.
I better hurry this up. I have exactly an hour to dump this at the hospital, and I need to make sure the timing is perfect.
The traffic won't be an issue, but the security rotations are tight.
The things I'm already doing for you, Rain.
It's almost poetic.
I thought meeting her just once would drain the tension, cauterize the wound, but it didn't.
All it did was amplify the static in my head. It's louder now.
Screaming.
To be close to her.
I take the scalpel, the steel cold and familiar in my grip. I start slicing the skin off his calves in long, deliberate ribbons.
I need to bond with her better; that's the missing variable.
It seems she gets a kick out of fixing broken things, it's her high, her little secret addiction. So, if she wants to play the healer, I have to be the one who breaks things for her so she can nurse them back to health.
I'll provide the canvas, and we can paint it red together.
