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"Damn you," he muttered under his breath, his fists clenching at his sides. "Why did you have to be so kind? So cold?"
His thoughts swirled around her memory like whirlwinds threatening to tear apart the very fabric of his existence. He could feel the anger boiling beneath the surface, fueled by the confusing blend of emotions that she had left him with. A part of him wanted to scream, to shatter the fragile barrier between them and force her to face the monster she had helped create.
"Is this what you wanted?" he asked the empty room, his voice cracking with emotion. "To make me feel this way? To make me doubt everything I thought I knew?"
He drew in a shaky breath, trying to calm himself. The city lights flickered in the distance, casting their eerie glow across the waterlogged streets below. As much as he wanted to blame her for the turmoil in his mind, he knew that it wasn't entirely her fault. She had tried to save him in her own twisted way. And now, he was left to pick up the pieces of his shattered heart and find a way to move forward.
"Whatever you saw in me, Mildred, I won't let it define me," he whispered to himself, staring out into the stormy night. "I'll find my own path."
The anger began to dissipate, giving way to a new sense of resolve. A clarity washed over him, as though the rain itself had cleansed his thoughts. He knew what he had to do now, and there was no turning back.
Heaving a deep sigh, he turned away from the window and wandered through the darkened rooms of the house. The memories of his time with Mildred were etched in every corner, impossible to escape. He recalled living with her for that short period, like two lost souls seeking solace in each other's company.
Clack, clack, clack. The sound echoed in his mind, taking him back to those quiet evenings when they would sit by the fire, the only noise being the incessant clacking of her teeth. It was a sound that grated on his nerves, irritating him beyond measure, yet it was inextricably linked to his love for her. A confusing mix of feelings washed over him as he thought about their time together.
"Damn you, Mildred," he muttered under his breath, pacing across the room in agitation. "Why do I feel this pull, this need to be close to you when all you ever did was drive me insane?"
His eyes fell upon an old photograph of her on the mantelpiece, her sunken eyes staring back at him, as if taunting him from beyond the grave. He couldn't remain in her presence for extended periods – the constant clacking, the coldness that emanated from her very being – but he found himself drawn back to her time and again, like a moth to a flame.
"God, those horrible teeth," he whispered, shuddering at the memory. Teeth – he despised them, found them repulsive. They were sharp, dangerous, capable of inflicting immense pain. And the clacking – sometimes, even now, he could hear it, haunting him in the depths of the night.
He clenched his fists, fighting the urge to hurl the photograph across the room. Instead, he stared at it, his breathing heavy and labored. He knew that he had to let go of his anger, his conflicting emotions, and find a way to move on.
He took a deep breath, willing himself to release the tension that gripped him. As he exhaled, the clacking noise seemed to fade into the distance, replaced by the soft patter of rain against the window.
The rain outside blurred the city lights, casting a kaleidoscope of color across his living room. He couldn't shake the memory of her teeth—their sickening clack echoing in his ears like a cruel metronome. Anger and confusion pulsed through him, a storm raging within.
He hurled it at the wall with all the force he could muster, feeling the plaster crack beneath his knuckles. Pain shot up his hand, but he welcomed it. It was a distraction from the gnawing thoughts that plagued him.
"Stupid," he muttered, cradling his injured hand. "These hands are meant for greater things."
His breathing steadied as he considered his next move. An icy calm settled over him, drowning out the chaos that had threatened to consume him moments before. His lips curled into a cruel smile as the face of his next victim swam into focus—clear as day amid the tempest of his emotions.
"Tonight's the night," he whispered to himself, eyes gleaming with anticipation.
As he paced around the room, he couldn't help but let out a quiet chuckle. Soon, the FBI would receive the package he had sent them. It was meticulously prepared, each detail carefully chosen to taunt and challenge them. They would know he was coming for them, yet powerless to stop him.
"Agent Cross," he mused, savoring the name on his tongue. He knew she wouldn't back down, hardened by years in prison for a crime she didn't commit. In fact, he relished the thought of facing off against such a formidable opponent. "Let's see if you can catch me, Morgan," he said, grinning at his reflection in the window. "I'm ready when you are."
He slipped on his jacket and stepped out into the rain, leaving his tortured memories behind. The night air was cold and unforgiving, but it invigorated him. He was a hunter, poised to strike—and nothing would stand in his way.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Morgan's heart pounded in her chest, her breath coming out in ragged gasps as she stumbled through the dark forest. She had no recollection of how she'd ended up here, and the terror clawing at her insides only grew with each passing moment. The cold seeped into her bones, chilling her from the inside out.
"Where am I?" Morgan whispered to herself, her voice barely audible above the rustling leaves. "How did I get here?"
The darkness seemed to close in around her, smothering her like a thick blanket. She could feel the weight of her past pressing down on her, her years spent behind bars after being framed for murder. It was a burden she carried every day, but never before had it felt so suffocating.
As she stumbled onward, her eyes began to adjust to the darkness. She detected a faint glow in the distance, something that seemed familiar. Squinting, she realized it was a light shining through a window – her father's cabin! A surge of relief coursed through her veins, and she broke into a run, desperate to reach the safety and familiarity of the place she once called home.
But as she ran toward the cabin, something strange began to happen. The light seemed to move farther away, as if the cabin itself were retreating from her. Panic bubbled up in her chest, and she pushed herself harder, her legs aching from the effort.
Her determination fueled by desperation, Morgan pressed on, refusing to give up. The need to escape the darkness gnawing at her mind, the desire to find solace in the familiar walls of her father's cabin, propelled her forward. No matter how far away it seemed, she knew she had to reach it – for her own sanity and to unravel the mystery that had brought her here.
With a final burst of energy, Morgan sprinted the last few yards and practically threw herself against the cabin door. It creaked open under her weight, and she stumbled inside, panting heavily. The warmth of the room washed over her, chasing away the bitter cold that had seeped into her bones. She stood there for a moment, catching her breath and taking in her surroundings.
"Hello?" she called out hesitantly. Her voice seemed to echo in the small space, making her feel even more alone than she had been in the forest.
