I’m going to kill again, but all I think about is Carrie.

No one has ever stirred me the way she does. I barely saw her, barely talked to her, but I want her more than I’ve wanted anything. Crave her more than any kill.

I plan to kill Carrie’s classmates. Part of it for me is about the kill.

But more than that? This is about Carrie. I don’t want these girls to tease her, mock her, treat her like she’s inferior.

Even a cursory glance into that graduating class revealed just how little these brats will be missed. My private investigator, Firmin, hands me large manila packets holding all the criminal activity they’ve done without being formally charged, or those charges sticking. “Privileged brats with possible DUIs swept under the rug because of who their parents are and the balance in their bank accounts.” He drops another file stack and opens them to various pages, pointing out the similarities. “Assault charges never filed, or the charges were dropped and settled with large sums of money.” Firmin rings out his hands, and his tension permeates the air. I know he despises seeing the sort of activities that privileged individuals are able to get away with and I know that’s why he went into private investigation. He doesn’t punish like I do. Firmin doesn’t even ask questions about what I do.

“Excellent work. Thank you, Firmin.” I wave my hand at the whiskey decanter. “A drink?” I ask. Rarely does he partake, but I always offer. Firmin and I rarely share more than files, much less conversation. But his weighted tension in the air has not evaporated.

“I think I’d like that drink, yes. Double, neat,” Firmin says, sitting in one of my leather high-back chairs like he’s resting the weight of the world on his shoulders.

I don’t fumble, despite this odd moment where I’m feeling off balance. I don’t enjoy the company of many people, but I do actually like Firmin. I don’t completely understand his emotions. The Lorenzo Sirvio discoveries disgusted him; most people find acts against children particularly heinous. But he’s not my conscience. I’m not certain I have one, at least not more than Carter. I think ultimately, it’s Firmin’s professionalism that I appreciate. He’s not broaching any gentlemanly protocol by accepting offered whiskey, and I make us both a drink. I had him his highball, and sit down in the chair facing his.

“You seem… distracted,” Firmin says, treading lightly. Firmin must have a strong idea of what I do. He never asks. I don’t suppose that he wants to know, but I can tell that he wants to say something. “I don’t suppose that with this many files, that your procurement could be a team effort? Is that what is distracting you?” Firmin takes a longer swig of his whiskey. He wonders if he’s crossed a line, asked too much with that word ‘procurement' when he means that I murder.

I find it enchanting. My affections for Carrie have distracted me so much that my stoic private investigator seems almost concerned. I grant him a smile, and while I know I am charming, I wonder if he sees this as genuine.

I’ll let him suffer. I like Firmin, but I’m not exactly a congenial man and I take more pleasure out of his minute pain than a thousand professional or even friendly interactions I might have with him.

“I am distracted, yes. But not so much that I won’t be able to complete my work.” I take a lingering sip of my drink. “The procurement, and this operation, will be alone.” Maybe I should bring Carter in on such a big plan. There’s a lot of students to kill at this bonfire party, but I don’t want to share Carrie just yet, don’t want to share this plan. It is my gift to her. My method of acquiring her. I will separate her from anything, anyone, that prevents her from being mine.

Carrie isn’t ready to understand why she’ll like my present, but I’m preparing myself to help her understand. My hands are shaking just thinking about it, about her. The soft curls in her hair, the gentle ivory of her skin, and those eyes. Her eyes that are haunting in their purity and the mystery that lies beneath.

I retrace my conversation and look to Firmin polishing off his drink. “I see,” he says, gripping the highball glass a little too tightly. “Apologies for my intrusion—”

“Nonsense, Firmin, I enjoy your lively company.” A wicked grin spreads across my face. My smirk is cruel, and I decide to assuage his fears further when he trembles at putting his glass down. I press my hand to his shoulder, letting him know that this is not a domineering touch but a kind one. “I would never harm you, Firmin. Your invaluable services and your professionalism make your company quite enjoyable.” It feels strange to compliment someone with so little ulterior motives. I only want him to feel comfortable, and not in the way I would with a victim before I slice into their side and watch them gasp.

Hmm.

“Good evening,” I say to him, removing my hand from him.

He gathers his coat and briefcase, nodding and leaving my study.

I don’t follow him out. I see the wheels in his mind turning. Is it good to be liked by someone like me? he’s asking himself.

There are certain advantages to the working relationship Firmin and I have.

What about Carrie and her perhaps perilous attraction to me, and my possibly fatal affections for her?

My throat tightens at the thought. I have stronger emotions toward her than I’ve ever had for someone. Even stronger than the urges to kill. I know I would never harm her – an odd declaration for a person that so enjoys harming others.

But I don’t want to hurt Carrie.

I want to have her.