Happy Valentine's Day, XX

Happy Valentine's Day, XX

Adult content

Violence, Murder, Gore

Stalking, threatening language

Strong sexual language

Pro Domino meo.

Felix Dies Valentini, amica mea.

Voluptatem facias ex voluntate tua.

"Good morning, Princess. You look beautiful laying there asleep. I left you a scone before I left. It's your favourite. XX"

I woke up with the note in the pillow beside me. Under normal circumstances, it'd be sweet -- a husband, leaving a sweet not with a kiss kiss at the end and a little gift for me. But this isn't normal.

I've been waking up to these little notes for the past week, written in blood red ink in the finest calligraphy I've ever seen. It started... Gods, I don't even know when it started. The asshole could have been following me around for years, for all I know. It wasn't until he showed up in my socials, with random pics of me in seemingly innocent places that I first took notice of him. Or her. Or them. To be honest, I haven't even gotten a glimpse of their shadow or anything, ever. No idea where they came from. I just started seeing posts I made of myself drinking coffee at the café, as if my girlfriend Jenny had taken the pic herself from across the table. Or in the gym, as if a gym friend had taken it for me while I was boxing. The pics are always so perfect, like I was posing. Nothing suspicious about them. But I didn't take them. I didn't have someone take them. And I didn't post them. How do they even do it?

A cold chill runs down my spine when I read the note. This can't be happening to me! How do they... You know what? It doesn't matter how they do it. I want them out of my life and to have just one fucking morning not feeling like this! I crumple the note in my fist and throw it in the bin next to my nightstand, get up and change into my work clothes. I haven't showered in almost a week, since this shit started with the notes. I find excuses to shower at my friends houses before I come home. I don't dare tell anyone what's going on -- not since they threatened me in a text if I ever told anyone.

I pull my hair into a ponytail as I storm into the kitchen, and freeze. I shouldn't be surprised. They're an honest stalker. Everything they've said they'd do, they do. That just frightens me more. The threats they've made... I have no doubt they'll follow through if I'm not obedient. If I'm not silent. Fuck, that's where they want me: locked in a cage that's my own home, silent and obedient. Like a housewife in one of those creepy religious homes. He's got to be a man. Maybe that's how he sees me. I'm his goddamned wife in his twisted world. One who like a sheep obeys everything he wants, does whatever is good for him and quietly maintains his sick image of our relationship. But isn't that exactly what I'm doing?

I burst out a frustrated scream and swipe the saucer under a neatly placed blueberry scone off the island counter. The scone explodes into crumbs when it hits the floor, and the white saucer shatters against the tiles. Fuck this. I'm going to work.

...

"Shar? You alright?" Jaden asks with a confused look on his face. I brush off the tired trance I'm in.

"Yeah, honey. I'm sorry; I didn't get much sleep last night." I manage to say through a forced yawn. Its not that forced: I really didn't get much sleep.

"Yeah, cool. Uh, I was just saying, these clients are saying that the agents serving them didn't help them at all, and were rude, so they want to 'speak with the manager'." Jayden throws up two quote mark gestures as he spoke that.

"Goddamned Karens... Alright. Tell them tk give me a few minutes, and Ill be right out to speak with them." My face is no doubt showing my exasperation. I took this job because, well frankly, nobody else would do it and it oays well. Now Im the CEO of a third rate sales firm in a one horse town in New Jersey. I have the most boring life in a world full of interesting people for creepy men to stalk. I...

**Bling!**

I pull out my phone from the pocket in my skirt. That's right: all my skirts have pockets.

"I've been thinking about you all day. Can't wait till your in my arms. I have a special surprise for you, Princess."

I jump in shocked horror at the rapping on my door. "What is it?" I yell.

"Sorry to bother you, Miss Vale. Someone sent flowers."

"What? Flowers?! For who?" I ask, rather shaken. My Assistant, Gale gives me a look of confusion, like obviously they're for me. "Okay, jist put them on the table over there" I tell her, as nicely as I can muster in the midst of my underlying fear. She quietly steps over to the table and neatly sets the vase on top before leaving. I just sit at the couch, slumped over with my head resting in my hands, staring at what I wish wasn't sitting on the table right now -- a dozen red roses. I hate roses.

**Bling!**

I pick up my phone from where I'd set it on the couch beside me when I sat down.

"Do you like them, Princess? I had to skin an old lady to get them for you."

I threw the phone to the floor and muffled a scream with my hands. This can't be happening.

**Bling!**

My hands shaking, I slowly reach down and pick the phone up again.

"No, this isn't the surprise. Happy Valentine's Day, Princess. XX"

I cover my mouth, sobbing silently into my hands. The last time he said something like that, he said he had to "see a man about a horse". The news that night spoke of a missing illegal sex club owner featuring an infamous "Donkey Show". It mentioned the club was a favourite hangout spot for visiting gang leaders who specialized in sex trafficking immigrants from Mexico. Soon after, a package arrived at my door. Inside was the peeled off face if the club owner and a note that said "Hush little baby, don't say a word." Sick bastard! So I have no doubt,: for some reason he killed an old woman and found these roses near her and sent them to me.

This is too much. I cant stand by and let him taunt me into fear and submission. Without thinking, I pull out my phone and ask my best friend, Maureen, to meet me for lunch. I've got to do something. If I tell anyone, they'll be the next gift I get from this twisted asshole. So I've got to be careful. All I need is to tip her off. Let her know he's stalking me and to carefully notify the authorities. But one mistake, and we're both fucked.

...

"So Sharlene, tell me: how's the business going? Any big buyouts lately?" Maureen asks as she cuts up her salad. Why do people do that? It's a salad, for Christ's sake. The leaves aren't that big.

I let out a nervous smirk. "Maureen, my esteemed friend: it's a small firm in Trenton New Jersey. The last 'big buyout' to happen in this town was when Costco bought the old shopping plaza after the owners died of old age," I shot back with a snicker. "No, no big buyouts. Just plain old, boring, everyday sales and customer complaints." I sighed as I said it.

"Well, my dear. You've only been here for six months. Give it time. You'll land your big score soon enough., and make us all proud, I'm sure." Maureen has a smile as she said it. I hope she's right. But the truth is, I'm bored to tears. This just isn't my line of work. It's not my life. At least this stalker offers some respite from the tediousness, I'll give him that. Maureen finishes her drink, and turns to wave down the waiter for another. This is my chance. As she does so, I quietly bend over, under the table to adjust the buckle on my heels, and slip a note into her purse. The note is small and concise: just saying enough to let her know that Im being stalked by a murderer, not to say anything to anyone, and when I give the next signal, to take it to the cops. I figure the stalker will eventually want to make his big reveal to me. When he does, I can sneak her a text with just a name or maybe a pic if Im lucky: anything to reveal who this fucker is that the cops can use. Not the best plan, I know. But I can't just sit around anymore.

After the waiter refills her glass, Maureen looks at me contemplatively and smiles, saying, "Darling, how about we meet at my place tonight for drinks and rom coms. Ill bring a box of chocolates and some gelato, and we'll just gorge ourselves on sweets and ice cream. After all, it's Valentine's Day, and we're the two most eligible bachelorettes in town, with no dates. Boss women like us have to stick together, right?"

"I think that's perfect Maureen. Id live that! Only let's do my place! I just got a new surround sound system and have a bottle of champagne waiting for us in the fridge."

...

When I arrive at my condo's parking lot, Maureen's car is already there. She steps out, her business skirt suit still on, and she holds up a huge, heart-shaped box of chocolates and a tub of chocolate gelato high in the air triumphantly. I give an exasperated sigh of both annoyance and relief. Its not that I don't like Maureen or anything. When she's by herself, away from public view, she's adorably sweet and funny. She's really herself. It's the façade that annoys me. All prim and proper, all "darling this" and ew hoo hoo, "look at me, I'm a spoiled rich, white woman". Ugh...

But I tuck it away, smile, and ooen the door to run over and jump and greet her in a girly hug, going along with her smug show of boss women who pretend like they're somehow much richer than they really are.

After our little outburst of fake glee, we make our way inside, arms locked around in a side hug. I nod at Gerard the security guard, and we huddle into the elevator up to my condo.

The elevator doors open, and down the hall is the door to my condo. It's really not that big a deal. Less of a condo, and more of a bigger, fancier apartment I slip my keycard into the slot, and open the door. We both get in, shut the door, and out our coats in the closet before making our way to the kitchen fto store away our goodies till we're ready for them. I notice a strange, dull flickering light before I turn the corner. As I turn the corner into the kitchen and dining room, and in front of me, on top of the cherry table... I gasp at the sight. Maureen freezes.

On the table is a huge vase full of flowers. My favourite flowers: Tiger Lilies and Baby's Breath. Theres black candles lit. A giant box of chocolates. And a flute full of champagne next the bottle I'd been saving.

"Happy Valentine's Day, Princess."

I hear the deep voice coming from behind me. I turn to see the silhouetted figure of a tall, fit man in a black suit, his hands covered by black leather gloves. He grabs Maureen by the head in an instant, covering her face with a white napkin. She doesn't have a chance, but immediately slips into unconsciousness from the chloroform, and falls helplessly to the floor before she can even scream.

"You brought me a present, baby. Thank you. Now its time to wake up, Diana," the man says in a deep tone.

"Diana? Who the fuck is D--"

Before I can even finish, a bright light flickers in my face, nearly blinding me. The man pulls something like a needle out of his jacket pocket and he lunges at me, stabbing me deep in the neck. And everything goes black.

...

I wake up from the faint sounds of a man screaming at me to "do it now", and find myself unable to move my arms or legs. I look, and my hands are duct taped to a chair. My feet too. I look up, and the table is in front me me, still set as it was when I first came in. I blink my eyes a few times, trying to get the grogginess to subside. Suddenly a plate of steaming hot steak and a potato is set in front of me at the table with a slight clink.

"She wakes. Don't worry, Princess. It takes time for you to come back. Just relax." I hear a mans voice speaking. I look up to find the man in the suit has the most beautiful face I've ever seen on a man. A little stubble on his face, blue eyes, light brown hair. Absolutely gorgeous man.

"What? What are you talking about?" is all I can manage to let out through the haze of my grogginess. Did he drug me? I don't feel high or anything. Just like I've been sleeping for hours in the daytime, and just now starting to wake up.

"It's alright, Diana. Take your time. It'll all come back. Just take it easy."

"Why do you keep calling me that?" I demand with as much severity as my voice will allow in this state.

"Cause that's your name, Princess." The man speaks with a certain amount of quiet confidence.

"You're the guy who's been stalking me! You're crazy! What the fuck do you want from me!" I'm now awake enough to actually scream.

"What do I want? Absolutely nothing. Just to help you, my love. Now eat up. We have a busy night ahead."

"Help me?! You're a murderer! Oh, god! You're going to kill Maureen, aren't you! Look, I'm sorry! I had to do something!" I scream, trying desperately to wiggle my way loose from the duct tape.

"Wait, what'd you do? What did you do, Diana?!" He's yelling at me.

"Nothing! I just slipped a note into her purse! I couldn't help it! I couldn't do nothing!"

The man nods, and calmly breathes out a sigh. "Oh, that's alright. I've been keeping an eye on her. She hasn't done anything." He snickers as he lifts his fork up to his face to take a bite of steak. "The bitch probably hasn't even found it yet. Not that it's going to do her any good now."

I look at him, horrified. "What did you do to her?"

The man looks at me with a surprised look on his face as he chews, then swallows. "Nothing Princess, I swear. And I'm not going to do anything to her -- at least not while she's alive." He takes his knife and cuts another piece, chucking to himself. "That's not how this works."

"What do you mean?" I ask, calmly. I've got a knot in my stomach.

"I'm not a killer, Princess. That's all you." He side eyes me as he puts the bite in his mouth. "Give it a minute. You'll remember."

"No! I want to know what the fuck is going on, right now!" I scream, hopping around in my chair, hoping it'll somehow tip over and break under me.

The man puts his silverware down on the plate with a clank, then turns and looks me dead in the eyes. "Okay. Your name isn't Sharlene Vale. You're not the owner of some rinky-dink company in Jersey. Well... You are. But that was a set up. Your real name is Diana Vickers."

The name brings flashes of images and sounds, faint and violent -- but momentary.

The man continues: "Better known as The Wolf. You and I were partners. You made the hits, I made them look like random jobs by local thugs or sick bastards. Then we fell in love.Got married three years ago. Any of this ringing any bells?"

"LIAR!" I scream. "You're insane!"

"Heeere we go. You know, we go through this every time. I keep telling you the dose is too much, but do you listen?"

"Dose?" I stop jumping for a second. "What the fuck did you give me?"

"I..." The man uses his fork to point at himself. "I gave you the correct dose of the shit you made to bring you back. You took half a cc too much of that shit you use to forget."

"Forget? Forget what?"

He drops his silverware onto the plate, exasperated. "Okay. You're very smart, Diana. Like, fucking Good Will Hunting type of shit, mixed with some James Bond, super killer or whatever. But you have this ability to... What the fuck do you call it, uh..."

"Cognitive compartmentalization." I say quietly.

"Yeah, cognito compressionism... whatever. So you made two drugs. Made them yourself in your own homemade lab. One to knock you out. You wake up as whatever character you wanna be for the day. The other brings you back and makes you... you know... you."

"I'm not... I'm not that person! I'm me! I have a boring life with a boring friend, and I just want to go back to living, please!" I sob.

"Oh, you're anything but boring, love You're fucking amazing!" the man says as he takes another bite. "The kills you make... Fucking wild. I once saw you take down a kiddie lover in fucking Utah from on top of a goddamned mountain, 980 meters away in the wind. Damnedest thing I ever saw. That motherfucker was dead on sight!" He slammed the table as he spoke.

Through painful tears, I asked, "What about you? Who the fuck are you?"

"Me? I'm your husband, Jackson. And I'm the laundry man. Like I said, I make it look messy, like maybe some asshole hit them on the street. I clean up your hits, so the trail never leads to us. And while your under, I'm kind of your handler. The last week though, I wanted to make it special. You know... It's Valentine's Day. You're my Princess."

Again, flashes in front of me, but this time more vivid. Mostly sexual. Looking down while orgasming and seeing his face, half of it wet with a big smile. Feeling a hard cock in my mouth, looking up and seeing that same gorgeous smile looking down at me. I could feel myself getting wet when he said his name: Jackson. Jackson Vickers. My Jackson. My... No! This isn't real!

"I'm Sharlene Vale! I'm Sharlene Vale! Im Sharlene Vick--" I stop. What the fuck am I saying? I'm not this person! I'm... I'm...

Suddenly I hear a whimper behind me. Jackson smiles creepily. "And that, Princess, is your surprise." He stands up, turns my chair around, pulls out a knife from his inside pocket and cuts the tap e, freeing my hands and feet. He lets out a little chuckle and softly says, "And that is Maureen Gibson: CEO of Healthline United, murderer of thousands of insured clients who she denied payment for life-saving treatments, and worst yet: secretly the patron of three major sex trafficking gangs right here in Trenton, known for smuggling illegal Hispanic immigrants into the state to force them to fuck horses and rapist millionaires. Have fun with this one, Princess." With that, he hands me the knife in his hand.

I slowly walk over to Maureen and take the duct tape off her lips.

"Sharlene, don't do this! We're friends!"

I hold my hand over her mouth to keep her quiet, and lean towards her, quietly saying, "My name... is Diana." My other hand tightens its grip on the blade's handle, and I bring the blade to her rich damn throat, and slowly let it rip her flesh and let the blood spill onto the couch and floor as I cut a slit from ear to ear.

Happy Valentine's Day, bitch. XX