BURN IN BELL by Jeremy Waldron

Author:Jeremy Waldron [Waldron, Jeremy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sugarhouse Press, LLC

Chapter Forty-Four

The Shadow Stalker paced in tiny figure eights as his socked feet trampled the carpet with each step. A muted twenty-inch flat screen TV flickered and cast dark shadows across the eggshell white walls, lighting up the room.

All night he couldn’t sleep. First it was adrenaline keeping him awake. The high that came after the kill. Now, a buzz of energy like that of a swarming hive played constantly in his ears. It was fear that had ensnared him with anxiety, keeping him a prisoner inside his own room. The fear of getting caught.

The Shadow Stalker had made a mistake, and he knew it. But it was the persistent nagging being whispered into his ear that was grating on his nerves now.

His chest heaved as he listened to the words telling him he wasn’t good enough to be recognized as the best. Soon, he couldn’t take it anymore. Clenching his meaty fists, he spat into the dark corner of the room, “I am the best.”

There was no response, nor was he looking for one. He kept pacing.

Silence draped over him like a heavy blanket of doubt, slowly draining him of his self- worth. He walked the same path as before, asking if it was figure eights he was making, or the symbol of infinity. He preferred the infinity analogy—infinity ensured a lasting legacy—and he kept tramping down the same trail, allowing his thoughts to churn.

Pushing his hands through his hair, he flexed his muscles and shook his head back and forth as his agitation grew. The voices grew louder as the minutes passed and the attacks on his shortcomings sharpened and became more personal.

“I’m not making it too easy on him,” he muttered in a tone above a whisper, not wanting his voice to be heard through the walls. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, old lady.”

The Shadow Stalker knew he might have moved too quickly in his grand scheme to draw Inspector King in. It wasn’t the victim he chose, or the location that made him question his strategy. It was the fact that he was nearly spotted by those boys surprising him with their lights as he hovered over the frail and dying Avery Morgan, working her into a piece of art. Now he worried that, because of them, he might have left his victim alive.

He raced around his track, his feet scuffing over the carpet faster and faster until they burned with heat. The whispers swirled around him like a stiff winter’s breeze that only the Shadow Stalker could hear. The pressure inside his head increased as the voice behind him grew louder.

His nostrils flared and he felt trapped, like his heart was about to burst. Suddenly, he snapped. “I know I almost got caught!”

With balled fists, he breathed the fire out of his chest.

As soon as he admitted his failure, he knew he’d lost. It was difficult to admit, but sometimes the truth hurt. Willing to do anything to win, it had felt like forever since he lost at anything.

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