Of the three main causes for murder "Lust" is the most ignoble and most distressing. What could not be given in Love was stolen, then in fear of reprisal or 'the damn bitch struggled" a Life was taken. -- Anon Guest
Let me tell you about the one I love. They are perfect. Perfect body. Perfect looks. Never a hair out of place. They always smile for me when I go to order my morning fix. I always tip generously. I want to make them feel special. I want them to know that they are special to me. I want... I want... I want them to be mine.
I want to roll over in the morning and make slow, lazy love to that perfect body. I want to kiss that perfect face. I want to mess up that perfect hair and see that sweet smile... my smile... as I make them scream my name. I want to be the only person in their world. I want to keep them. I want to have them. I want to hold them. I want... I want... I want them to be mine.
The campaign starts simple. Little questions that are harmless. A birthdate, a favourite flower. Innocent things. Scattered into the conversation so casually. Things like, "Cool pin, is that your birthstone?" You can find a lot about a person like that. I listen of course, because you're supposed to listen to your loved ones. So I listen, and I learn.
They play a specific game on a certain server and I join. I spend a lot of money on getting their characters things they want or need. I become their playmate. They need help with their rent and I 'accidentally' tip a hundred dollars, becoming their saviour. I remember their birthday, and I become their friend.
It's the little things they remember. Flowers or a small treat when they're having a bad day. A compliment every time I see them. A little flirting, but nothing that sets off the alarm bells. Pretty soon, they're comfortable enough to tell me little things without me asking. Like... they have a cat. Cute little thing. Fluffy as hell. I immediately start researching cats so it looks like I care. If you love someone's pet, you get even closer to having them love you.
Once I've seen the cat, I can find the owner on social media. It's not hard to get deep into someone's life if they share online. It's right there for anyone to find it. Now they don't even have to complain about little things going wrong. I can fix them. I know their name, I know where they live. I can become their neighbour. A friendly face every morning. A confidante. Familiarity and comfort and soon enough... companion.
I know everything they like. I start inviting them to things I could never afford because a non-existent friend or relative bailed at the last instant. I'm so close... but now they dare to refuse me? I spent all this time and effort on being perfect for them, but they refuse? How dare they refuse!
They're mine! They belong to me!
I spent days learning how to make their favourites and they dare say no? I perfected everything so that I could own their perfection and they refuse?
It's the ultimate betrayal.
So I take what's owed me. I make them take me in... with the knife I used to cut them a portion. I make them scream... with the knife. I make them smile... with the knife.
They're mine.
And now they'll never belong to anyone else.
[Image (c) Can Stock Photo / gajdamak]
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