THE CHASE: Prologue

 It is extremely hot for you to wear a jacket, but where else will you hide the knife?

People won’t care. They never do. Everyone is so busy with their own sad lives that no one ever gives a second glance to anyone these days. The lethal addiction of the cell phone and the attractive applications on it are a boon to people like you. It makes the hunt easier. It helps you disappear. No one cares about the surroundings any more. No one bothers to notice the little details. Nobody cares.

He doesn’t look like he cares either. With a belly like a watermelon and a beard overgrown, he’s drinking coffee with the laptop open in front of him. He looks 40. Pretending to work, his eyes wander from one woman to another in the cafe till it lands on you. You lick your lower lip a little, smirk and look away, sipping your iced tea. One hand slowly feels the knife on your chest, your nipples hard. 

His eyes are black. Not your type, but he will have to do it for now. It is getting late and there is no time to look for chocolate brown ones. Pity. There is a different, more provocative fear in those. 

He asks for the bill.

You check your phone and put it on silent.

He continues to stare at the laptop screen, then looks at you and smiles.

You smile back. Stupid men.

You get up to leave.

It is dark outside. The moon is full and bright. You light a cigarette and stand next to the main door of the café, waiting. Your heart is beating fast like it always does before the act. It has been a month after all. A month of longing, waiting and chasing. You need action. You need blood. You need to have him inside you as you squeeze his thick chubby neck. The image of it alone turns you on. You can feel the juice between your thighs. Hands itching to carve your name on his chest. You close your eyes and smile imagining him under you, begging. You have to be careful though. There can be no mistakes like the last time. You cannot afford it. One tiny slip, even a whisper and you’re done.

The man has still not come outside. You stub the cigarette and with a sigh of despair, start walking home. Maybe tomorrow will be a fruitful day.

The cell phone rings, it’s not yours. You turn back and see him walking towards you, smiling and talking on the phone.

You slow down and turn left towards the alley right next to the café. As suspected, the man follows you.

You smile. Stupid men.