Sarah says she’s going to teach me how to read soon, right after I perfect writing my name. I’m close. My handwriting is sloppy, but it’s better than not writing at all. A man my age, I should know how to do all those things, I know that. I know I’m not smart, not like the rest of my friends. I guess I have my own strengths, but I haven’t figured them out yet. My insecurities are too strong.
I’m cruel when I need to be, but that’s all I am, and discovering Daphne makes me want to figure out if there is more of me. There has to be, right? I can’t be an empty vessel, and if it’s all I am, then I guess I’ll be living a life away from Daphne. I’ll have to settle for watching her from a distance for the rest of my life.
I won’t be happy about it, but I’m starting to think happiness is something learned, and if my history has proven anything to me, it’s I’m incapable of being taught.
Passing freshly black-painted parking meters, I round the corner of a local barbershop. Hey, maybe they can cut my hair if that’s what Daphne is into. I’ll become whoever she needs me to be, but will she do the same for me?
I tilt my head up and turn my body at the last second to miss running into a guy around my age smoking a joint. “Hey, fucking watching it, guy,” he dares to snap at me.
Right as I’m about to place my gun against his temple and blow his brains out, I catch Daphne up ahead, turning around, and I dip into the alley to hide.
“Fucking freak,” the guy sniffles, scratching his nose with his fingers. His hollow orbs don’t give me another glance, but he has no idea how close I am to shooting him in the chest for disrespecting and challenging me like he did. And he had done it in front of Daphne?
This fucker just made my kill list.
I count to thirty and peek around the edge of the alley and see the fashionable green purse bouncing on her hip as she walks down the sidewalk. Pushing off the wall, I slide my hands in my pockets and follow.
I’m far enough away where I’m not suspicious. I stare at her back, watching her hips sway, and she’s wearing those leggings again. I like them. They hug her ass just right, and all I want to do is watch my fingers sink into the flesh, then my teeth, and then—
“Ow.” I rub my forehead and scowl at the fucking pole I just ran into. “You have no idea who you’re messing with.” I point my finger at it just as an old lady dressed in a purple dress walks by, her chihuahua prancing in a matching sweater. She gasps, placing her laced-gloved hand against her chest and giving me a wide berth. “No, not you, ma’am. The pole.” I chuckle, rubbing the spot on my head.
She hurries away, her little yapper of a dog barking at me. I sneer at the tiny rat, and he whimpers, prancing away on his paws.
Stupid fucking dog. Stupid fucking pole.
Damn it, Daphne!
Panic has me running down the sidewalk when I don’t see her. She’s gone. All I see are trees lining the sidewalk. The roads are clean, unlike the Vegas strip, and there is a blue mailbox on the corner without posters of naked women taped to it. Something out of the corner of my eye has me turning in the other direction.
There she is.
Daphne is climbing the concrete steps to a duplex across the street. I dodge behind a red car when she tenses. Her brown hair blows as the desert wind kicks up a bit of sand, and the grains hiss against the buildings. A circle of sand swirls along the road before laying still as the breeze comes to a halt.
She feels me.
Oh, I feel you too, Daphne.
I watch her through the windows of the car I’m using as a shield, and she disappears inside, closing the door behind her. I’m nowhere near done following her. I can’t rest until I know she’s safe in her bed.
And maybe a little after too. I want to watch her for a little bit. I know how it sounds, but I want to watch her breathe. Knowing someone so beautiful exists is a rarity. She’s like seeing a comet for the first time or a double rainbow, and I have to stare for as long as possible because seeing something so extraordinary only comes around once in a lifetime.
Taking a quick breath, I run across the street and climb up the steps of her duplex. I jiggle the knob in hopes, by some chance, it is unlocked, but it isn’t. That’s fine. I triple check my surroundings to make sure no one can see me and give the door a shove with my shoulder.
Oopsie.
There’s a staircase to my right that leads to the other half of the duplex. It’s nice. This place looks like somewhere Daphne would live. It’s clean, pretty, and I bet there is a story behind the building. The light flickers above me, casting a yellow glow along the scratched hardwood floors. There are black and white photos along the floral wallpaper of a married couple with a soccer team of kids.
I’m not sure how I feel about kids. I never thought about having one.
I’m not interested in pictures. I’m interested in my comet, my once-upon-a-lifetime, my Daphne. The gold-plated mailbox slots shine beside the staircase.
Her name is written above one slot on a white sticker in black ink. The writing is flawless, pretty, and serene. It’s cursive. I remember Sarah showing me the two different types of writing. Print and cursive.
At least, I think it is her name. Since her name is Daphne, I know her name starts with a D and the name below hers does not. “Number two,” I say when I see the number at the end of her signature.
Something I’ve yet to perfect.
My hand lands on the wooden rail, and it’s cold to the touch. Daphne has touched this rail. My eyes roll to the back of my head at that thought. I creep up the stairs, and the heavy weight of my body has the stairs creaking. I freeze, hoping she doesn’t hear me.
I know what I’m doing isn’t right, but I don’t want to hurt her. I promise.
I’ll be a ghost in the darkness, and she won’t even know I’m there. My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I know it’s Reaper calling me wondering where the hell I’m at. All the guys always text me, but since I can’t read, I ignore them. They think I don’t care, but they don’t know how long I’ve glared at those messages and tried to sound them out with my stupid voice and broken tongue.
I reach the top of the stairs and find the door with a two on it. I step forward and blow out a breath. I put my hand on the knob and quiet the rush of thoughts jarring in my mind. Is this right or wrong? It’s a chance to open her door. She could be right there, and she could see me, but am I willing to blow my cover for one last look of her? With a shaky hand, I twist the knob, and fire brews in my body when it’s unlocked.
Anyone could come inside and not just me. Someone who intends to hurt her. Oh no, that needs to be changed. I’ll have to install automatic locks when she isn’t around and a security system. I have to make sure my comet is safe.
As quietly as I can, I open the beautiful cherry red door and see I’m in an empty living room. There’s an oversized green couch near the windows, and books are everywhere.
I mean everywhere.
They are in piles on the floor, the coffee table, on top of the TV, the arms of the couch, windowsill, and I bet every other surface she can find. The walls are painted a light blue, and there is a red rug on the floor, almost covering the entire space of the living room. I can’t see all of it since there are books stacked in rows on top of it.
My little bookworm.