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Tonight, I’ll go see her again.
And tonight, I will get closer.
The time ticks just past midnight.
In the dark of the night, I take small steps deciding not to sit in my usual spot by the large bush. The property is surrounded by empty land overlooking a canyon with dense nature surrounding it. The area sprawls across acres of land, true to the reputation of Hidden Hills.
Despite the affluent neighborhood being a gated community, I’ve heard of ways to enter without being caught. Considering the information comes from my former drug dealer’s circle, I don’t ask how they know or why or even care for that matter.
I enter through the back fence where there’s a small gap, so small the wire catches on my black shirt almost grazing my skin. I know where the cameras are positioned. The red light flickers every few seconds, and fortunately for me, they haven’t hired fulltime security which gives me ample opportunity to get close enough as long as I remain focused.
Just breathe, be patient, and soon you’ll see her.
I flatten my body along the fence, careful not to rustle any bushes. Thank God that yappy dog of hers is nowhere to be seen, but I remain on guard, armed with dog treats in case it makes an appearance like last time.
On the left side of the house is a small entrance about the size of a manhole. I pull the lid off and place it gently on the ground. My hands begin to tremble, a combination of adrenaline and nerves all rolled into one. Taking a deep breath, pushing myself to continue on, I climb into the confined area then crawl through the tight cavity until I find myself in the basement.
I give myself a few moments to collect myself, scanning the area around me. There’s nothing unusual, just boxes labeled and stacked neatly against the wall. Considering the house is enormous, I was expecting the basement to be cluttered, but then remember they only moved in here a year ago, and Charlie has OCD when it comes to her home.
The house itself is over thirteen thousand square feet sprawled over acres of land in Hidden Hills. I researched the property online, visiting previous listings before they purchased the house, studied everything I could to pass the time and focus on something else besides my cravings.
I also know her bedroom isn’t too far from the entrance of the basement—a few feet more, and I’ll see her.
I have only done this once before when they were vacationing in Mexico, so to know that she’s actually here, my heart is beating a fucking million miles a minute. I swear it’s on surround sound echoing throughout the house, and I’ll have a heart attack.
I imagine the headlines now—Ex-Lover Found Dead in Woman’s Basement.
Yeah, just great, that will calm your nerves.
Lost in my tragic thoughts, I somehow find myself at the entrance of her bedroom. Carefully placing my hand on the doorknob, I turn it slightly until it makes a small creak. I stop in a panic, then attempt again until the door opens, and I’m staring directly at her.
Lying on the large four-post bed, nestled between the white sheets, Charlie lays perfectly still.
My heart slows its
beat, almost like it finds comfort, a form of peace it’s desperately seeking. I imagine my heart decides to stroll up and sit on my shoulder, nestling itself into my neck, watching her sleep with a huge smile. Yep, we become one at this moment, losing ourselves as we watch this beauty before us sleep.
And there’s no doubt Charlie’s beauty is understated.
No matter how hard I try, no one else measures up to her.
The obsession runs deeper than her beauty, and at times, I even struggle to understand why she consumes me, especially after choosing him.
Yet, we all make mistakes, and I’m far from fucking perfect.
Does she love me? She said she would always love me.
Love doesn’t just fade.
I love her.
Why else would I be so happy just watching her?
I know this much—I don’t want to hurt her. I don’t want to inflict any pain upon her. That’s my definition of being in love.
I watch her sleep, her eyes fluttering. Her soft breathing is in perfect rhythm, her chest rising and falling. Her angelic aura forces my imagination to wander to a place of reflection of what could’ve been if we stayed together—we’d be married, with child, and maybe even more than one child. We would have been happy.
My posture relaxes as the thoughts calm my anxiety, and a shallow sigh escapes my lips. But then, like a force so brutal, the tide turns. My head, content in one moment, is tensing at the realization of Charlie choosing another man, a man who I resent. One who I also find cunning and despicable, and a man who calls on people to destroy me and end my life.
