October 9th, 2016

New York City, New York

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I continue laughing, feeling freer than I have ever felt while in control. Now I am in complete control. Now, I am James Evans. I am the James Evans the little boy needed to be for so long, but was too afraid to be. Now, there is no fear. There is nothing holding me back. There is only life. I get to play God now. The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away. I am going to take life in order to wake this miserable city out of its state of apathy. Sooner rather than later, this entire abysmal planet will shattered to its core in some way or another.

I look down at the gun in my hand and I chuckle some more before resting it on the floor as I rise to my feet. I walk into the bathroom and stare the reflection that now belongs to me, “James, you really let yourself go my boy…” I say, running my fingers through my new head of hair then over the scruffiness over my face, “We gotta clean you up. You have to look appealing to the ladies…” I begin fumbling around, grabbing an electric razor as well as a regular razor with some shaving cream. It doesn’t take long until I am all clean shaven and my face is baby smooth. I splash water over my face then pat it dry, unable to take my eyes off of my reflection.

I hop in the shower, enjoying the sensation of the hot water washing over my new body. The steam rises around me. There is something about all of this that is highly erotic to me. Touching my skin, feeling the way it feels, feeling the heart in my chest as it beats, feeling truly alive, makes my downstairs tenant fill with blood, my blood. I place one hand on the shower wall, while grabbing it before beginning to pleasure myself. I close my eyes and I begin to visualize her, James’ little precious…the one he wants to protect….Amy, the one he sees as…her

Thinking about Amy, seeing her face does nothing but piss me off. I start to lose the sensation. I open my eyes, feeling my own glare. Seeing her face as it flashes in my mind, causes me to punch the shower wall. I close my eyes once again, taking in a deep breath and instead I see Amy, but there is no smile on her face this time. There is fear. She is running from me, blood is running from her lip like the tears from her eyes. Visualizing this, I feel the stiffening sensation slowly return. I continue on, stroking up and down, back and forth, as I see myself chasing after Amy. I can hear myself laughing hysterically, which brings a smile to my face.

The air around us is cold. I see her breath as she pants while running through the darkness. I see myself as I am not too far behind her. I see her fall. She lets out a groan before slowly lifting her head up. She then looks back and we make eye contact. As I stand in the shower, I visualize the fear as it grows in her eyes and I feel myself grow more and more excited, as I move my hand and wrist up and down, back and forth.

I watch as she pushes herself up off of the ground, slowly picking up speed, trying to increase the distance between us, but to no avail. I get closer and closer. She looks back at me again, letting out a terrified scream this time. I shout out at her, “There is nowhere for you to go bitch…” I move faster, picking up the pace, keeping my eyes on her as she darts down a different path, trying to throw me off. This excites me even more. I tell myself that it is like the thrill of the hunt. I watch as I change direction as well. I continue running, trying my best not to give away my position, to keep myself from laughing like the maniac people label me as.

I see Amy, hiding against a tree, trying to catch her breath. She slowly drops down to her exceptional ass, slowly bringing her knees to her chest. She wraps her arms around her legs, still trying to slow her breathing, to keep me from seeing it. I watch as I edge closer to the tree, keeping my eyes on her hiding spot. I feel myself getting closer to climax as I reach the tree. I wait a few moments, trying to prolong the climax. I watch as I lean against the tree as well, slowing my breathing, keeping calm despite the Cheshire cat grin on my face.

“You seem tired Amy…” I hear myself say. I hear her gasp and shudder which causes the grin to widen, “There is no reason to run anymore. You are only making things harder on yourself. I know you don’t want to do that. I know you don’t want to be a victim, but the quicker you realize that is your role, the better off you’ll be,” I say with a snicker, “Well you may not see it that way, but it will be easier for me to do whatever it is that I need to do. You won’t have to suffer long if you give up now. The longer you make me the wait, the worse it is going to be…” I say, before springing myself to the other side of the tree, but she is not there. I turn and see her running, trying not to stumble, down the wooded pathway before me. I let out a sigh and shout, “I love when you play hard to get,” before taking off after her.

I run her down, as it doesn’t take long for me to do so. I grab her and throw her down on the ground. I sit on her chest and let her try to fight. Her arms flail and her legs kick, even after my hands wrap around her throat and she gasps. Hearing her gasps now as I stand in the shower with the hot water beating down on my chest, as I clutch myself tightly in my hand, moving back and forth in rapid succession, I climax, letting out a series of euphoric moans of complete ecstasy. I take a few moments to catch my breath. I lean against the wall for a few moments, feeling on cloud nine. Once the feeling passes, I finish my shower before climbing out of the shower.

I stare, once again, at my reflection, still breathing slightly heavy, as the visual replays over and over in my mind. The more I think about it, the more I want to bring the images to life, recreating them for my own personal satisfaction, to fulfill a need of mine, a need that has gone untouched for months now. I stare into the eyes James once called his own, the same eyes he had when he saw her and how he compared her to Amy the first time he laid his eyes upon the bitch.

I remember all of it, all of the events, and I remember it well.

It all began with a murder in the park…

James was a young man when I first arrived. I had been around awhile, but it wasn’t until a certain event in his life that I made my true presence felt, letting him know that I was around. That I was his guardian angel, Abel.

It all started with a murder in the park.

It is an event that James buried deep, deep down into the depths of his mind. It was his mother, his true mother, not the woman who was there for the better part of his life. No, James was five years old when his mother’s death shocked him to his very core, shaking his entire foundation, causing everything to crumble and fold. The woman he grew up calling mother was some whore his father picked up off of the street. She fed into his father’s habits of mistreating the boy, drawing me out to protect him.

When he lost his mother, I wasn’t there to protect him. All I could do was observe the child. James woke up for school on a rainy Monday and walked out of his room. His father wasn’t around. He was more than likely spaced out of his mind on a couch belonging to one of his many addict type of friends. James poured himself a bowl of cereal. Frosted Flakes to be exact. Those were always his favorite. James then sat down in front of the television as no one was around to tell him otherwise. He turned on the television and what he saw would change him for the rest of his life.

The news was on. James recognized a few of the things he had seen. He saw an ambulance. James knew what it was due to the fact that his mother worked at a hospital. He would visit his mother when his father had “better things” to do. He would watch the ambulances come in and leave, the siren always fascinated the boy. He saw the ambulance with the back doors open. The EMTs were loading something or someone covered in a black leather looking bag, inside of the ambulance. James saw what his mother called caution tape stretched out; forming a rectangle which is a four sided shape he had been learning about in school. And then he saw a reporter, who was talking through his thick and bushy mustache.

James turned the TV up as he heard the words, giving the news report of what had happened. A woman went running early this morning and it appeared that someone assaulted her, stabbing her to death. It appeared the victim tried to fight back resulting in her attacker taking her life. The reporter continued, saying that it was possible the victim was just another name to add to an already growing list of women who have been found murdered throughout the mountainous area of North Carolina. And then, the reporter revealed the name of the victim, based upon information found on her person.

It was James’ mother. They flashed her photo into the top right hand corner of the television screen.

James didn’t finish his Frosted Flakes that morning, nor did he go to school that day.

The boy didn’t move for a long time, because he knew his mother was gone. One of the brief moments of light in his life was now nothing more than darkness. All she would ever be was a memory. A memory that the boy would bury deep within the depths of his mind, never allowing it to rise to the surface again.

But even though the boy buried it, it would not erase the scar.

I snicker at this thought, as I continue staring at my reflection, because Amy needs to be reminded of how scars work. They never go away no matter how much you change yourself. Guilt is always lingering. Pain is always lingering. Shame is always lingering. Scars are always there to remind you of where you’ve been and where you could end up again. You can let go of the past, but the past doesn’t let go of you.

That is something James realized when he saw Amy. They were engaged in a fight at the beginning of the year. She stood across from him and James was floored by the resemblance. Earlier in the evening, James was all gung ho about destroying Stacy Kissinger, beating her like she was just any other bitch. He entered the ring for his match with Amy, with the same mindset, but that all changed when he saw her. This was the first time I noticed the weak link in the boy.

I guess that old saying does apply here.

If you want the key to a boy’s heart, you don’t have to look any further than his own mother.

And Amy reminded James of his dead mother…

James tried fighting it. I remember how hard he tried to fight it. He wanted to beat her, but he didn’t want to hurt her. He wasn’t himself during that match. I tried to remind him of who I was and I tried to take the steering wheel, but James was stronger then, but once the match was over and he was defeated, I let James know that I was still around.

Still staring my reflection, grinding my teeth at the very thought of James losing to Amy, pissing me off. I let out a sigh before closing my eyes and reliving that night in my head.

James sat against the locker, staring up at the ceiling blankly, letting out sigh after sigh and then I spoke to him, “You let her get the better of you, James…”

He bolted up from his seat and began looking around, confused and fearful, “ Who’s there?” He looks around some more, “What the fuck? Who the hell is there…?”

I remember chuckling as I said, “Oh James, you and I go way back. You will figure out who I am soon enough. I am not ready to show myself just yet. Just know that I am a little bit disappointed in you my dear boy.”

“Disappointed in what? Who the hell are you?” He demanded. I remember sensing the dread in his voice as well as his eyes the more he spoke and looked around, as if someone else was there.

“To answer your second question, just remember what I just said. You will know who I am soon enough. As far as what I am disappointed in…you lost to her. You allowed yourself to lose to Amy, when you could have beaten her and gone after the one thing you have longed for nearly over half of a decade,” I recall saying to him. I even recall how pissed I was then. Thinking about it now only adds further fuel to the fire, adding to the hatred I hold towards Amy.

“You…whoever the fuck you are…have no idea what you’re talking about. I lost to her. She beat me fair and square,” James said, doing his best to make me believe that he meant that, even though I knew better then, just as I do now.

“You are such a fool, James. I know you better than you think. She didn’t beat you fair and square. You beat yourself, opening yourself up to make a mistake that she could and did indeed capitalize on. You had her within your grasp and you saw her as someone else, someone you cared for long ago and that killed you as well as your chances to achieve greatness.”

James dropped to his knees, burying his face in his hands before shaking his head from side to side, looking weak and pathetic. A few moments passed and I remember seeing tears as he lifted his head from his hands, “I don’t know…I don’t…I don’t know who you are but you don’t know a damn thing about me…”

I let out another snicker, “Oh James, but I do. I have known you for your whole life. I’ve been there through the good and the bad. You don’t remember me but you will…when the time is right…when you are finished being weak…”

The little bastard cut me off before I could continue, “I am not…WEAK!!!” He shouted while throwing a fist in the air. I watched as it connected with the brick wall. I smirked at the rage that coursed through him. It was rage that I wanted to exploit and allow it to thrive.

“But you are,” I began, “You are weak right now. You saw your mother when you looked at Amy. You didn’t want to hurt her because you felt like you would be hurting your mother and that was the last person you’d want to hurt. But your mother…your mother is dead, James. She is nothing but a ghost. She is a ghost whose memory makes you fucking weak,” I responded, coldly. I remember the venom that came with those words. It was the truth and I wanted it to hurt him. It was what he needed in my opinion.

His fist swung again, connecting with the wall. I remember watching him look around, the rage had festered up and he wore it like a mask on his face. I recall admiring it then. I could even sense it in his voice, “My mother kept me alive when my father beat the hell out of me, when my father would use me as a way to get the drugs he felt he needed. It was the love she always showed me that kept me going despite all of the bullshit my father would put me through…” His voice trailed off, as did the rage. My admiration disappeared as the weakness in him began to show its ugly face once again.

“If that is what you think, James then you are truly…in the dark,” I said, before disappearing, leaving James to think about everything I had said.

The memory fades and I open my eyes, finding myself still in the bathroom of James’ apartment. I think of Amy and how bad I want to hurt her. Soon, I tell myself, very soon. She and I will cross paths. James has tried to protect her, just as he tried to protect his mother at a young age from the savage beatings she suffered at the hands of his father. Amy will know, just as she did, just as James learned recently, that this world isn’t for the faint of heart and that only the strong survive.

Everyone else is just a victim…

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October 19th, 2016

Norfolk, Virginia

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Sitting in the locker room reserved for James Evans, well me….I look up at the ceiling, holding a big smile on my face. The world is still reeling from what they’ve labeled as a sucker punch. They say that I sucker punched Amy the other week and I haven’t felt bad about it at all. To me, it wasn’t a sucker punch. To me, it was a tiny indication on what is to come. It was also me delivering a message that no matter who is around, the bitch isn’t safe. The so called big, bad boss man can be around, just as he was the other night, and I will still hurt her if the opportunity arises.

Even tonight, I think to myself, even letting out a little chuckle. She can rally her troops and get herself some bodyguards, but she will still be hurt. I told her that she wasn’t safe a few weeks ago and I like to pride myself on being a man of my word. I don’t know how or when it will happen. I don’t like to have a plan all of the time. Sometimes, I just enjoy winging it. The week I struck her with that so called “sucker punch” I planned that. I wanted to see what she’d do and sure enough, she came out acting all big and bad, like she owned the place, like I needed to be intimidated, like she was going to own me and put me in my place. I had to turn the tables on the bitch and put her in her place.

And fuck me, it was fun.

My phone rings. I look at the caller ID and my smile grows on my face, as I answer, “What’s up, Doc?”

It’s Doctor Vaughn, “Hello, James. It’s Vaughn. How are you?” I had called him the day before, telling him I had a question to ask and that I wanted to talk at his earliest convenience.

Lying down on the bench in the locker room, propping my feet up on my bag, feeling no weight on my shoulders, feeling free, “I am great,” I begin, trying to give my best impression of James in his weak and pathetic state, “How are you?”

“I’m fine, James. I was just returning your call. You said you had a question to ask me. Is everything alright?”

Maintaining my grin I reply, “I guess you could say that. I have just had some stuff on my mind. A lot of stuff has been coming to light. It’s made me think quite a bit.”

I hear some papers shuffling around in the background before Vaughn responds, “That is interesting James. What sort of things?”

“Well, it’s been a question really. That question is the reason behind the thoughts I’ve been having.”

“And what is the question, James?”

I clear my throat, still hoping to come off as close to weak and pathetic as I can, “Why do you think women are typically easy victims for men?”

I listen as Vaughn clears his throat and lets out a sigh. I picture him, placing his head in one of his hands and shaking it. After a few moments he responds, “I think you sort of answered your own question, James. Men typically attack women because they see them as easy targets. They believe that they can use their will against women, to bend women to their own will, thinking that women are weak and feral. Men typically feel the need to be dominant in all aspects of their lives.”

“Is that why you think…my dad used to beat my real mom? He wanted to feel dominant and wanted my mother to know her place?”

Another sigh, “Well James…” And then a pause, “Tell me what is it that you think when it comes to the matter and we can go from there.”

I take a moment, closing my eyes, conjuring up a moment from James’ past. I see his father bursting into the house while James and his mother sit on the couch. James’ dear old dad curses and shouts, before grabbing the end up of the couch and flipping it over. James and his mother roll out of the way. Charles Evans goes towards James’ mother, who quickly climbs over the couch to get away. It isn’t long before James hears screaming and shouting, followed by his mother crying, “I think my father wanted to be dominant. He wanted to be in control but James’…but my…MY…mother would stand up to my dad. This pissed him off because he didn’t have control, so he would attack her to regain that control. He would lock her in a choke hold,” I close my eyes again, seeing things the way James did. My mind recalls James seeing his father bending James’ mother’s arm back and the pain on her face, “Or he would bend her arms behind her back, nearly breaking them until I…I ran in and saved her.”

“What would happen after that?” Vaughn asks.

“James…my…MY…father,” I curse myself, “He would knock the shit out of me and let me know that there wasn’t anything I could really do.”

“But you stepped in and stopped him from hurting your mother. So you did do something, James. In a way, you saved your mother by stepping in.”

“Why do you think my mother didn’t fight back?”

Vaughn lets out a sigh once more, “I believe it could have been any number of reasons, James. I am sure it had something to do with fear. Your father placed fear into her and made sure that she never forgot it. I am sure that fear stuck with your mother like a scar hangs around on the skin, like a reminder.”

“One last question,” I say with a grin.

“Alright, go ahead…”

“Why do you think…?” I drop the façade, making sure Vaughn hears the raspy tone of my voice. I want him to hear it because I know it fills him with a dread, which is something I can never get enough of, “I…attack…women…”

A sigh releases from Vaughn, this time there is some frustration added in there, as he says, “Abel…”

“But of course,” I say, sitting up now on the bench, letting out a slight chuckle, just to rub it in with Vaughn, hoping it makes him feel so small, “You are so easy, Vaughn. Are you secretly a woman?” I laugh again, “You were an easy target, doc. I figured you’d be better than that, but I guess I thought wrong.”

“What do you want, Abel?”

“I want you to answer my question, doc. You are my therapist after all. I need guidance,” I say, with a snicker, “Guide me. Show me the way…”

“Where is James?”

I throw my head back and laugh out loud for a few moments. I then take a few deep breaths calming myself before speaking, “James is no longer with us, doctor. It was a tragedy,” I begin speaking, mockingly, “The poor boy just couldn’t go on living in a world like this. It was just…plain sad. But not as sad, not as weak and pathetic as the boy had become. It was probably the best thing the poor little shit could do in my honest opinion. Now answer the question if you would…”

Vaughn fires back, “No, Abel. I will not. I will talk to James.”

I roll my eyes, “James…isn’t…here. James went away. James is gone. There is only yours truly, using this mind, body, and soul to do all kinds of nastiness. Using it to have the most fun James could ever possibly have in his miserable little existence.”

“Since I can talk to you freely…” Vaughn begins, “You are the one with the miserable existence.”

“And why do you say that, doc?”

“Because, you are the one who attacks women. James wouldn’t do that. He watched it happened to his real mother as a child. He endured a lot. If anything, you are the pathetic one here, Abel.”

I sniffle in a mocking manner, “Doc…doc…please…please…” I fake a sob or two for good measure, “Just stop before you hurt…someone else’s feelings.”

“Goodbye Abel…”

“Answer the question, doctor.”

“No,” he says, the frustration growing into full on fury.

“Fine. I will tell you why I attack them. Take for example, this bitch, James works with…well I work with her now…I have gone after her for months because of the fact she gets to James. She is his fucking kryptonite. She makes him weak every single time she is around or her face pops into his head. I attack her for that very reason. I attack others because it gives me pleasure. It has nothing to do with being dominant. I like showing those who believe that they are in control…that they truly aren’t. That is what happened between James’ parents. Hell, that is what happened with you just a few moments. You thought you were helping James, but then I opened your eyes, letting you know you bought into that little ploy hook…line…and sinker…” I stop speaking, waiting for a response but there’s nothing, “Oh come on, doc…” I begin to taunt, “Don’t be afraid. We can talk about it like reasonable adults…” Once again, I hear nothing for a few moments but then there is a click. I look at the phone and see that Vaughn has hung up. Laughter bursts from my insides as I lean my back and get it out of my system.

Once I calm down, I turn on the TV monitor in my locker room just in time to see James’ precious little Amy stuck in yet another situation filled with an abundance of drama. Seeing her seethe and argue with one of her best friends, Bree…I can’t help but shake my head. The woman always seems to find herself in some sort of drama, be it with booze, or David Miller, or David Miller after he killed himself like a coward. It is like she is starved for attention so she can keep her name and face out there. I don’t get why James ever gave a damn about her in the first place, other than the whole mother thing, which is quite disturbing if you ask me.

I continue watching for a few moments, watching as Amy finally makes her way up the ramp and through the curtain. When opportunity knocks, you have to answer the call or so they say. I make my way out of the locker room, ready to see where the night takes me. And the night is still young, I remind myself stepping out of the locker room, there is so much to do, so much that I can do. I reach the entrance to the backstage area and I just stand there, with a big smile on my face. It grows as soon as she spots me after I speak, making my presence felt. Our eyes lock and we exchange words. Things get heated, because like most bitches, Amy is a highly emotional cunt. I am having a good time until she crosses a line, placing her hands on me and shoving me back. I almost fall but manage to maintain my balance. I listen as Amy challenges me to a match. I grin, biting my lip a little bit, fighting the urge to grab her by the hair and slamming her face into the wall. Instead, I got for the gentleman approach, by thanking her before grabbing her by the throat, pushing her against the wall. I see the fear in her eyes and I can fill the blood rush from one head to the other as I begin to squeeze. I talk, accepting her challenge, letting her know that she made the biggest mistake of her life.

A cameraman runs over and begins acting tough, like he is going to protect her. I put him in his place, just as I have done her. I control the situation, saying what needs to be said before backing away. As I walk away, I feel the rage coursing through my veins. I can’t believe she fucking touched me. SHE FUCKING TOUCHED ME!!! Replaying the image of her shoving me makes me want to drive my fist into her skull until I hear bones crack and snap while blood squirts upon my face.

She will suffer, but at Under Attack.

In the meantime, I think to myself, someone else should suffer too.

And then I get an awful idea. An awfully, wonderful idea. I am going to do what I set out to do weeks ago. I am going to finish what I wanted James to start, but he was too much of a pussy. I am not. I am alive and free, capable of doing whatever it is that I want.

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“Walk in the Park”

September 9th, 2016

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The weather is getting a tad bit cooler, letting me know that autumn is on the horizon. I sit on a bench inside of Prospect Park, watching as the rest of the insects make their way around, smiling and laughing. Couples holding hands, pressing their temples together, getting mushy with public displays of affection. I roll my eyes at that. Another fucking hashtag. I see children running around without a care in the world and at various points, James would have envied the, just as he does now. But as I do with the rest of the insects, I pity them all. They scurry around here, not worrying about a damn thing, believing that they are invincible. The older they grow however; they will realize that invincibility is as much of an imaginary concept as perfection. They will realize that the ugliness of this world is not something that they can be protected from, that it is something that they cannot ignore forever. That is the problem with parents these days, I think to myself, as I continue to observe. Parents these days feel like they have the keep their children away from the world so they use technology to preoccupy their minds. It is something that the mother of James’ children does, giving his daughters iPads and Pokemon Go for example. If I were in control, I would prefer my daughters know first hand that evil exists, and it is necessary for the world to function.

That is why I am here. James is meeting one of his little shit bag children, as the other one fears me. My friend, my only friend…Abel, got behind the wheel and led me to their mother’s apartment. Abel isn’t a fan of their mother or my daughters. He did something that not even I approve of, taking a pillow and attempting to smother my child, Kelly. Her sister, Keira saw it. She has a reason to fear me, as sometimes Abel gets a little too excited when he is in control. Though, when I am in the driver’s seat, I would never and I mean never hurt my children. Abel isn’t a fan of love, but I do love them. I at least have that freedom and it is something that I refuse to allow him to take from me. I haven’t seen my daughter in nearly two months. Their mother wants to keep them away from me because of how violent I have become. That violence has never been towards my children and that won’t change. The violence has been towards their mother. It has been towards the man I once felt to be friend, the man who fucked their mother behind my back…the man they refer to as Uncle Ace. It is the same violence Abel intended for me to share with this city. God, I miss Abel…

A broken city filled with sin and littered with scars. Whoever said that the Big Apple is rotten to its core told the truth. I just want to change things here, to wake this city up. That is exactly what I want. That is what I have tried to get James to do. To wake his sorry ass up, but he will not do so. That is why I had to leave him. It is pretty sad, but amusing mind you, that James will call out to me, asking if I am there.

But I am here. Just not for the same reasons as James. James wants to see his daughter and spend time with her. I could give a fuck less about him or her. I am here to find a special someone to become the apple of my eye, so to speak. James is startled by his little shit, Kelly. He and I look over and see Katelyn. I would love to go after her, but she is damaged goods. She is a broken shell and it would be nothing more than a mercy killing if you ask me.

As James talks away with Kelly, I continue to look around. Observing mothers with their children, neither showing the other any attention. Compared to them, James should be known as father of the year right now. At least he is conversing with his child. And then, as some of the people part, clearing a path for my line of sight, I see her. Her auburn colored curly hair, crystal blue eyes and her pouty lips. She sits across from James and Kelly. She looks agitated as begins to fumble through a briefcase then a large leather bag. She begins to eat a sandwich while looking over documents.

The way her business suits fits her body, gives me a tingle in James’ pants. I have a thing for women. Unlike James, I actually go after them, going after what I want. I can appreciate a woman’s figure, just as I appreciate this one’s. When I get onto James’ Twitter account, I search plenty of women with the wrestling industry, all of them sluts like Katelyn claims she only used to be. They show off their skin, wanting the attention of everyone. They put their tits and their asses on display. And who am I to not look and appreciate the goods? I am a man with taste. A taste for flesh. A taste for blood. Most of them I will never meet but there is nothing wrong with pleasuring myself to the thoughts and images of fucking them before maiming them. Images of them staring up at the ceiling, their eyes… lifeless, as they lie in a pool of their own blood.

I continue to watch and observe her, seeing her the same way I end up seeing all women. Be it women in the same profession as James or normal every day women walking the streets of this God forsaken city. She finishes her sandwich then checks her phone. I watch as she shakes her head in frustration, slams the documents back into her briefcase before getting up and walking out of the park. James stands up with Kelly so I follow suit. I watch as the apple of my eye disappears into a building across the street and I smile, feeling butterflies in my stomach.

I want her.

I need her.

I will…I think to myself…have her…