Stalk Her

Telling others what to do and being paid for the privilege keeps me supplied with luxuries in life.

The cage of the office feels more like a coffin than a glass box with the world displayed from its high tower.

I don’t like being confined within walls, unless I have something to play with, inside them with me.

When the elevator reaches my floor I waltz past my secretary Janet’s desk and into my office, closing the door as she gets up and walks towards it.

Taking my door to the face as a sign that I don’t want to speak, she huddles back to her desk.

I wish I’d also closed the damn blinds so I don’t have to see her through the glass walls.

Her face irritates me.

Dropping into my chair, I grab the round stress ball with our logo emblazoned on it in a fancy font.

LeeRoss Industries.

Squeezing it makes me more tense than relaxed.

LeeRoss Industries.

The name came from a combination of my surname and my college roommate’s surname.

We are a development company that he and I started after leaving college.

I just wanted something to put my energy into, to stop my mind from drifting to the other urges inside me.

But the company took off so fast I was left rich and with people to do everything for me, so the boredom sets in every time I come here.

My role is to scribble my name on contracts and enjoy the rewards of my hard work.

Only I haven’t done any hard work.

Lee had managed to obtain a multimillion-dollar hotel chain for us to develop via his father’s contacts almost as soon as we started out.

The rest is history.

Time drags as I read through proposals and add my signature to documents.

Janet’s beady eyes keep finding me through the glass.

She must be so hard up and in need of attention… she makes up reasons to have to call my extension at least three times a day.

There’s no way she gets any attention outside this office or even in it for that matter.

I haven’t fired her for a better canvas to look at because I don’t trust myself to have someone appealing inside with me all day.

The phone lights up from her phone making me snort. Predictable.

She doesn’t even help herself in the looks department. Her outfit consists of a pantsuit that looks like it was purchased at a store for small men.

“Ross,” I answer the call, not looking over at her but sensing her gaze on me.

“Sir, your fiancée is on her way up.”

Oh, fucking perfect.

Click clacking of heels alerts me to the arrival of my, “fiancée” Maggie, before the door opens and she waltzes in like she doesn’t have to give the courtesy of a fucking knock.

“Erik, good, you’re here. I’ve been calling your cell phone,” she attempts to frown, but she fills her face with so much Botox her expression doesn’t change.

I only know she’s pissed because her eye is twitching.

“It needs to be charged,” I lie.

“You never charge that thing, what’s the point of even having one? You’re as bad as Summer, my yoga instructor. How is she supposed to get new clients if she doesn’t answer her phone to speak to them?” she shakes her head like we’re stupid compared to her greatness.

“Oh, speaking of Summer,” she announces, her eyes igniting with glee at having gossip to share.

“Did you know she has another new boyfriend?”

Why the fuck would I know that? And like I give a shit who Summer’s fucking.

I can’t even remember which one of her friends Summer is.

“She’s already introducing him to her kids. He could be anyone, I’ve heard that perverts often get to kids by seducing single mothers.” She scoffs, and her words stab into me.

My stomach twists and makes me feel sick as memories from my childhood assault my senses.

Erik. Eight years old.

Mama opens the front door and her boyfriend of the month walks in.

He’s the worst one yet.

She doesn’t lock me in the cupboard when he’s here like she does with the others, instead she pushes a needle into my arm and the darkness of the cupboard comes to me, pulling me down into nothingness.

My body always feels broken and sore when I eventually find the light and wake up.

I know she leaves me alone with him.

That he’s a bad man who likes to hurt kids.

When you grow up with a mother like ours, you learn about all the bad things in the world much sooner than you should.

You learn that they don’t stay outside your home, not when you have a mother like ours who lets them inside with you.

Last time he was here I couldn’t walk for a week and missed baseball practice .

It’s the only thing I enjoy, and I won’t let him take that away from me again.

Before mama can put the needle to my arm I snatch it from her and plunge it into her neck.