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He scoffs. “What could I do? I stared down at his body and all I could feel was rage. I wanted to be the one to kill him. Ideservedto be the one to kill him!” he spits, his voice rising with his anger. “You took that from me.”
“I regret not making it hurt worse,” I tell him honestly.
Kas exhales through his nose. “I couldn’t stay long, but when I left, I went back to your house, looked in the mailbox to find out your name, and then dug up everything I could.”
“So everything you said before about finding out about me was a lie.”
He shrugs. “Maybe. But I became obsessed with finding out who you were. Not just your name, but what made you want to kill him. I wondered if you had the same history with him as I did somehow. But then I found out about your parents, and nothing made sense. You had no ties to my dad. Your parents were killed by a budding serial killer, but because I knew what you did to my dad, I questioned that. I looked into the other victims of the serial killer and came to the conclusion that you were just some twisted fuck who got off on killing people.”
“I do it because it releases something in me. I feel better and calmer afterward.”
He shrugs. “You don’t have to explain it to me. I’m well aware.”
I chew on my bottom lip as I study him. “Did you follow me here?”
“Obviously.”
“I mean even as I traveled through other states?”
He shakes his head. “I put a tracker on your truck while you were still in Washington. I watched from a distance.”
I shake my head. “I can’t believe you.”
“I told you not to underestimate me.” He grins, happy with himself.
“Once I knew you were here to stay, I took my time. I had to save money so I could make the move across country. It took a little while, but then, my relationship ended and I thought it was the best time to move.”
“Ended with death?”
He smirks. “Mm.”
“So you got here and started stalking women.”
“I wouldn’t call it that. I was just getting your attention.”
“That you did.”
His lips stretch across his face again before the smile drops. “I’m still pissed that you killed my dad before I could.”
“I can’t say I regret doing it, especially now.”
He ducks his head. “Don’t pity me.”
“I don’t pity anyone.”
“I can believe that.”
“So, you don’t want to kill me for killing your dad, and you don’t want to kill me because I took the opportunity from you, so what do you want?”
He takes a breath, eyes meeting mine from across the cab of the truck. “In the beginning, I just wanted to understand you. I was fascinated. You had done what I contemplated for a long time and didn’t seem to struggle with it.”
“I contemplated plenty of things for many years. I was just born this way. I don’t have stories of trauma, but eventually everything that was inside me came to a head. When I did it, I expected to feel something. I figured I’d be overcome with guilt and grief, but I never felt anything but relief.”
“I struggled my first time. Panicked. Became paranoid. Once I realized nobody was suspecting me of anything, I started to calm down. I learned to be a little smarter, but I’m still quick to anger. It’s hard to think rationally sometimes.”
“Sometimes,” I say with a chuckle.
“Oh, fuck off.”
