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Everything about her is pure perfection: she’s my little masterpiece.
“That’s my good little low-life criminal. Stay down. Kiss my feet.” I growl.
“If I ever catch you so much as thinking about looking at my girl, let alone near her, I will fucking kill you. I’ll snap your neck without thinking twice. Are we clear?”
Her book pile is where I got the idea for the mask, which came in handy earlier tonight. It was from a book she read a few weeks ago. When I looked it up to read, I found out it involves a masked villain. He made stalking his victim his entire personality. After I read it, I knew it was perfect. The main character and I have so much in common.
“There you are, Amanda,” his voice is a menacing, low, deep rumble. I’m captivated, but only for a minute, before my ears realize he’s using something to distort his voice, as if he’s afraid I might recognize it. “What a naughty girl you are hiding like a little moth: drawn to the darkness, and unable to escape me.”
All the while I sip my coffee watching her. I watch everything about her. The way her lips tug and pull into a smile, and how her mouth fills with laughter before erupting with joy. Amanda is a stunning specimen. I could stare at her for hours and never tire of it. Too bad it appears she has other plans. She stands to leave and I wait patiently to see where they are going before I slink off after my sweet obsession. My masterpiece.
