Misunderstood by Bernensky Pierre

He heedfully stared at her picking up the gifts he left on her doorstep. He was observing her with binoculars from afar in his car underneath the shadow of the tree, while he guzzled a large cup of coffee. She looked around, wondering who would do this. She brought it inside and came back outside and got the mail. She went back inside and he waited for her, knowing her schedule. Hours passed and there she appeared with tight ripped black jeans, a small grey shirt, and Black Flat Gladiator sandals. She got in her 2012 black Nissan Maxima and drove off. He followed her, keeping a great distance from her car. He knew that every Tuesday she was off and would meet with her friend to talk. For weeks he did this, every time he followed her to a new place.

This time it was the mall. He parked six spots away from her. He got out of the car contemplating on words and how to approach her. She walked in and walked to the other side of the mall, while he was steps behind her looking as customary as ever. Her friend was sitting on the bench and she sat next to her. He was standing nearby looking the other way, while his heart was infused with nervousness. Suddenly his heart comported, as his disposition changed.

He treaded to them. “Hey Natalie, did you receive my letters and gifts?”

She was confounded. “Yes, you’re very sweet,” she responded with a bit of sarcasm.

“Thank you,” he said. “Are you free tonight? I would like to take you out to dinner.”

“No,” she replied. “I’m seeing someone right now.”

He was mute with a stolid look on his face, but inside one could hear cracks of his heart take place. He nodded his head, turned his back, and walked to the bathroom. He smacked water upon his face and shook his head in disbelief. Meanwhile, the two girls were talking about what just happened. Natalie’s friend was disturbed by their conversation.

“Where do you know that guy from?” she inquired. “He sounded creepy.”

“I know him from high school and back then he had a crush on me,” Natalie responded. “I didn’t know he still liked me.”

“Be careful,” she sagaciously said. “He knows where you live.”

“He likes me, he wouldn’t hurt me,” Natalie lightheartedly said.

As they continued to communicate, he stormed out of the mall exuding anger. His heart was pounding with malice schemes. His anger continued to build, forgetting how much he loved her. He walked back and forth in front of the entrance.

“I’m done being a gentleman.”

He got into his car and sped to her home with an idea, a plan that only seemed sensible to him. He arrived at her home; parked under the same tree he was stalking her from for weeks. He got out, jumped the gate, and broke into the house from the backyard. He examined her home, and eventually he got to her room where he hid himself in the closet waiting for her to come home.

It was dawn and she finally came home. The front door woke him up and he got himself together for this moment. All he heard was her footsteps coming and his portentous heartbeat. She opened the door of her room, sat on the side of her bed, and started undressing herself.

“I’ve spent too much time on you for you not to love me,” he said, while he came out of the closet.

She screamed, but he quickly shut her up. He punched her, pinned her on the bed, and drove a pillow to her head to suffocate her. She was trying to fight him off, but his determination was stronger than her will.

“Since you are not going to love me, you are not going to love anybody,” he said in an irate voice.

All of a sudden, she stopped fighting. He continued to press down on her head, making sure she was out. She was dead and he finally removed the pillow from her head and he raped her. After, he took a couple of minutes to stare at her body with disdain. He stayed there.

A week passed by, it was reported that she had not been seen for days. Her parents and her close friend were worried about her. Her friend told the police of this strange guy that approached them that day they met at the mall. Finally, the police arrived at her home and kicked the front door open. As the police was looking around with their guns, he was lying with the corpse in bed. They got to her room, kicked the bedroom door down, and they saw him next to her. They pointed the gun at him.

“Lift up your hands,” the officer yelled.

He did so. “She deserved it, she never loved me back.”

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May 2014

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