Stalker - Clarissa Wild Page 0,21

from across the street, and then she slaps Vanessa.

Rage boils up inside me, causing my fingers to clench. But I know that I can’t do anything about the way her parents treat her, so I try to calm myself down by breathing out slowly.

I never understood why they’re so hard on her. I guess they want her to be perfect. I think she’s perfect the way she is. Too bad they don’t see it that way.

Why do they want her to be like that? Is it because they want something, too? Is it because they think it would make her life better, or theirs?

This is why I don’t get along with my own foster parents. I don’t let them decide anything for me because they don’t control me, and they don’t own me. They sure as hell aren’t my real parents, so they’d better stop now if they think they can change me. It isn’t going to happen.

But I worry about Vanessa. I can see her parents’ demands tearing her down a little more each day. Act proper. Greet everyone. Get straight A’s. Always excel. It’s never enough, and I can see it breaking her down bit by bit.

I hate seeing it.

It makes me want to go down there and console her because she’s crying, but I can’t. Her parents won’t let me near her when they’re around. They think I’m a bad influence.

All I can do is watch her from a distance and hope things will be okay until I see her again.

Sometimes I wish she were the butterfly instead of the one I have now. That way I could stuff her in a jar and keep her safe and away from her parents, forever.

Too bad cages don’t work for human beings.

All they want to do is break out.

I guess I’ll have to think of another way to make it work.

***

VANESSA

Present

The silence in this room is overwhelming me. The beating of my heart sounds like a drum banging in my head. Sweat drops gather on my forehead as the bag grows damper and damper from my shallow breaths. Even though there is a hole near my mouth, it’s not nearly enough to take deep breaths. The longer I sit here, tied to a chair, the more I’m starting to lose it. I don’t know how long it’s been, how many minutes have passed since he’s left, but it’s too many to count. My brain is losing track of the here and now, as I’m lost in a delirious trance from the fear coursing through my veins.

Then, hard taps are audible outside.

My head immediately turns toward the sound, wondering if it’s coming from downstairs or if I only imagined it. When the noise becomes louder, I suddenly regain the urge to fight.

Jerking, I try to free myself from my restraints, tugging on the belt wrapped around my wrists. The more I pull, the tighter it gets, straining my muscles. The leather is cutting into my skin, leaving a painful mark as I hiss during any movement. It’s no use; I can’t get out, and someone’s coming. It must be him, which is why I’m so desperate to get out.

The stomps grow louder and louder, and then the door slams open.

“I’m back!” he says with a happy voice as if it’s feeding time for the dogs.

“Get away,” I yell, pulling harder on the belt than ever. The fucking thing just won’t come loose.

“Are you still trying to get out?” He makes a disapproving sound. “I told you not to try anything.”

His boots sound like trucks as they come closer. I try to move away from him, leaning back in the chair, but nothing stops him from touching my face. “Poor girl. All strapped up, trying to free herself. Did you miss me that much while I was gone?”

“Take your hands off me,” I say, trying to bite him, but of course, I miss.

He pulls the bag toward him, gagging me in the process. “Keep talking like that and I’ll slit your throat.”

“Do it,” I say, when he releases me from his grip. “I dare you.”

He laughs as if I’m pathetic. “Oh, Vanessa. Do you honestly want to die that quickly? Has your life been that miserable?”

“I’d rather die than spend one more second in this room with you.”

“Aw … you hurt my heart,” he jests. “If I had one.”

He walks away, and for a second, I wonder where in the hell he’s gone. Then I hear a screeching noise. It comes