The Library

Sebastian

S he doesn’t know how fucking beautiful she looks when she’s scared.

I watch her from the shadows, hidden across the street, as she fumbles with her keys, her hands shaking as she tries to get into her building. Her movements are too quick, too frantic. She’s panicking. But she doesn’t know why. She hasn’t seen me yet, but she feels me. I can tell. She can sense that I’m here, watching her, following her.

She doesn’t realize how easy she makes this for me. I’ve been tracking her every move, staying just out of sight, but she’s completely oblivious to the danger lurking behind her. She moves through her world, thinking she’s safe the moment she steps inside the familiar comfort of her apartment. But safety is an illusion—especially for someone like her.

I stay hidden, the cigarette burning between my fingers, the familiar sting of nicotine filling my lungs. My body is pressed against the cold brick of the building, the darkness cloaking me as I watch her finally disappear into her apartment. Her fear is intoxicating. I could almost taste it as I followed her down the street—the way she glanced over her shoulder, her body tensing like she knew she wasn’t alone. She can feel me, even if she can’t see me.

Fear is a powerful thing. But when it’s mixed with desire? That’s when it becomes something else entirely. Something irresistible.

I push off the wall, moving closer to her building, just far enough to catch a glimpse of her window. She’s left the curtains cracked again. Another mistake. She’s too trusting, too careless with her safety. But that’ll change soon enough. She’ll learn. She’ll learn that the only safety she’ll ever need is with me.

I’ve always been careful, always staying one step ahead. But with her, keeping my distance is becoming harder. She pulls me in, like a moth to a flame. The more I watch her, the more I want her. Not just to observe, but to touch, to feel her squirm beneath me, to hear her gasp my name, barely able to breathe, her voice trembling with fear and desire, knowing I’ve pushed her past the point of no return. I want to hear the way she moans, broken and desperate, her body and mind completely mine to devour. I want to see her cry while I’m fucking her.

I light another cigarette, the orange glow briefly illuminating my face before I pull the collar of my coat higher and step deeper into the shadows. I could take her anytime I wanted—drag her into the darkness and make her scream my name—but where’s the fun in that?

No, I’ll wait. I’ll let her feel safe for a little while longer. Let her think the danger has passed. Because when I finally decide to take her, she’ll fucking crawl to me on her hands and knees, begging for whatever I’m willing to give . She’ll crave the danger, the darkness. She will beg for it. And I’ll give it to her. I’ll give her more than she’s ever imagined, more than she’s ever let herself fantasize about.

She’s scared tonight. I could feel it in the way she rushed home, the way she practically ran through that door. But what she doesn’t understand is that her fear doesn’t repel me. It pulls me in. It makes me want her even more. Fear strips people bare, makes them vulnerable, and I can see it in her—the way her fear is starting to mix with something darker. She’s still in denial, but part of her likes thinking someone’s watching, someone’s waiting for her.

I glance at my phone, checking the time. Two minutes. That’s how long it’ll take for her to shower, to step out with her skin still flushed and warm, to peer out her window like she does every night, checking for something she can’t quite name. I can already picture it—her hair damp, her lips parted as she catches her reflection in the mirror. She’ll see herself, but what she doesn’t know is that what’s truly watching her isn’t the reflection.

It’s me.

I flick the cigarette to the ground, grinding it under my boot as I step away from the building. Tonight isn’t the night. But soon. Soon, she’ll realize the truth.