Chapter Text
Adrian Chase wants to make you feel good. He wants to watch your body writhe around helplessly, trapped in a satisfying plethora of pleasure and ecstasy. He wants to feel your thighs shake around his head, wants your nails to dig and scratch at his skin. Every part of you, he wants to feel.
The moment he saw you walk through the Fennel Fields doorway, something in him changed.
Lust, a feeling he never usually felt, began to extrapolate beyond his wildest dreams. Every night, his hands would travel south, palming at his groin that ached at the thought of you. Your hair, the way strands would stick up and frizz, your mascara, long and wispy, the little blemishes on your skin. He had every part of you he could possibly memorize forever stored in his mind. These things he collected and collated in his mind served as material fit for his own desires.
He was a wild and obsessive animal when it came to you. Constantly worked up at any fraction of you he could muster up in his mind. He’d love to stay up late in bed, watching shitty twitter porn on his phone as he imagined your pussy sucking him up instead. He tried to replace the voices and the moans in the videos as yours, replaying and interpolating your voice saying ‘Thank you’ to the breathy long moans he heard in the videos.
He began to collect, bookmark and save. He’d fixate on the content, only imagining him and you fucking like there was no tomorrow on messy sheets. He memorised the movements, the thrusting, what made a girl come harder and moan harder. He learnt, or tried to learn how he could make a girl come. How he could make a girl like you come. He got himself married to the day that he could finally fuck you, or love you, or do whatever physical bonding activity he wished he could do with you so bad.
This fixation began to ruin him. He had lost countless hours of sleep, touching himself, palming his crotch, biting into the pillow as he groaned out your name, or at least what he believed it was. Upon every climax, the image of you giving him that small minute gaze in the diner flooded his peripherals. The only time you had ever looked at him was for the 5 seconds he rushed past your table. Those 5 seconds made his cock twitch helplessly.
Adrian would gather his pillow to rest underneath him, his hands by either side of the fabric. He’d look down at it, try to imagine you splayed underneath him. A hot flush to your cheeks, your hair sprawled along his mattress. His cock would bare against the bottom edge of the pillow, thrusting and grinding against the fabric, making the pillow wet at the soggy touch of his hard dick.
Brash whimpers and desperate pleas would escape his lips, moaning and begging for you through running your name against his lazy tongue. He’d thrust, and thrust, grind and grind, until he’d finally tense and climax all over the fabric, looking down at thick ropes of come landing proudly on the pillow, wishing that the come could make a home inside you instead.
Sometimes, when he’d especially miss the look of your face, he would slip into his Vigilante costume and slink off into the night to find you at your home. Your windows were slightly open to allow the cool breeze in. This let him peer easily into your house, Adrian took this as a sign. That you must’ve known he was there, and that you were inviting him to come look. He felt his dick twitch at the thought yet again. He hid behind a bush near your window, peaking his red visor over to look inside your living room.
It was so pretty. You, clad in tight black underwear, wearing a shirt that just stopped at the hem of your panties. Your legs looked so nice, your ass folded and curved in a way that looked even better than Taylor Swift’s sexy butt. You were the dream image, Adrian wanted to touch himself all day. Touch you all day. Already, his gloved hands were trailing down the inside of his thigh to meet his aching erection. Fuck, he couldn’t do this now, not with you so close.
You stood and walked to the kitchen, opening the fridge and humming whilst you tried to find something to eat. He had to make a note one day to find out your favourite foods and sneak in to place them there, that would surely make you happy. His eyes scanned around the room, noticing how out of order everything was. Vinyls were messily scattered on the floor, there were panties, bras, and shirts littered from the couch to the back of a dining chair.
He looked at the couch, the image of him fucking you on it haunted him, he quickly looked away, trying to ease his boner down. He then looked to the bare wall, the image of you bent with your cheek pressed against the wall imagined itself in his mind. He had to look away. Every surface he saw was instantly plagued by the idea of fucking you on it. Everything reminded him of you.
The refrigerator door shut and you treaded back to your living room. He quickly ducked back down into the bush, the leaves making a slight rustling noise. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. You definitely heard that. The sound of your feet halted and Adrian could hear you talk slightly to yourself.
“...Hello?” Your voice echoed. And holy shit, his erection just grew. You sounded so small, so scared, there was a breathy lilt to your voice, it made him lust for more.
Here Adrian was, on the brink of getting caught, too lost in your voice to truly care. Maybe he did want to get caught, maybe he wanted you to find him. He saw in all of those videos the way women lusted to get used, Adrian thought, ‘maybe you wanted that too, surely it’s a universal thing’.
Yet, you were scared. Paranoid and on the tips of your feet as you slowly edged near the window, grabbing the closest thing to a weapon near you, a pair of kitchen scissors on the dining table. Adrian smiled excitedly, giddy as you got closer. You were practically ready to meet him now, grabbing those kitchen scissors as a form of kinky foreplay, God he loved you.
You steered closer to the window, nearing the sound, the taunting rustle of bushes. You could hear your heart-beat in your ears, your body stilling yet fighting to keep pushing closer. Your hands trembled, the grip on your scissors tightening. Fuck, it was probably just an animal, a cat or whatever. But on the other hand? You knew you felt a presence. Your intuition told you something was wrong. Something dangerous.
You neared the window, gulping down a scream, before you quickly flinched to the window and slammed it shut, turning the lock and pulling down the blinds. You breathed heavily, quickly running back from the window and tossing the kitchen scissors onto your couch.
Adrian let out a disappointed sigh, fighting off a groan as he heard you slam the window shut. Great, now he was going to have to find a new window to look at you from, despite the fact the one he was at was the only one with the best view. He thought to give your bedroom window a try, on the off chance that the blinds weren’t drawn, but they always were. He knew from the countless number of times he’d been outside your place already.
He crouched behind that bush for a few minutes, until deciding it was time to regrettably part ways. He slinked out from the bush, and ran all the way back home.
This wasn’t going to be the last time he’d get a good view of you, nor was he going to miss out on the chance to take care of you. Adrian had begun to divert a plan to make you at least knowledgeable of his existence. He thought maybe staging a plot to get some criminal on your tail so he could come in as Vigilante and be your saviour, but the plot was not very tangible, and possibly illegal on his part.
He thought, maybe, if he just kept stalking you out and about in the town, maybe luck would be on his side and he’d be able to actually save you without requiring any tampering of fate. His thoughts were very aimless, dragging from how to save you from a faux situation to fucking you. He sat in his basement, back rested on hoards of money and head tilted up to the ceiling as he thought, and thought, and thought.
He bit down on his bottom lip, the image of you and your bare legs flashing in his mind. Fuck, what he wouldn’t do to feel those legs. His chest ached. If it was anyone else? He’d instantly flinch the moment skin touched him, but for you? He wanted to grab on the soft plush of your thigh and knead it until it became a flushed pink mess. To touch you was the greatest honour that could be bestowed upon him, it was his obsession reaching completion, it was knowing he could finally be at rest.
Unfamiliar thoughts of sex drove him to an edge of tension, wanting and desire. He had to do something about this aching twang in his heart, he had to flex his fingers desperately around every inch of you. And he had to do it now.
On the night you left to go to a local bar with your friends, he took it as a chance to finally break into your home. He watched you from across the street, vision obscured by his red lenses as you picked up an Uber and drove off into the distance. He smiled cheesily at the thrill he felt to finally be in your home, that window was very limiting to what he desperately craved.
Once the car turned a corner, he instantly ran over to your home. He hopped over your back fence, wincing as his shoulder landed on the concrete floor but hastily standing up to compete with his impatience. He tested your backdoor, locked. He tested your kitchen window, locked. He tested your bedroom window, locked.
“Fuck.” He cursed under his breath, that incident a few nights ago must’ve really put you on edge. He should’ve done this days before he royally fucked up. He maneuvered back around to the patio, interrogating with a tilted head to see if there was any way he could sneak in. There, that’s when he noticed by his luck, a bathroom window slightly unfastened and unlocked. He giggled in excitement, quickly hopping up the bins and sidling his body with an uncomfortable squeeze into your bathroom.
He fell on his ass the moment he managed to push himself through, the cold tile instantly pressing into him, he winced out a sharp curse at the pain. He slowly stood up with a groan, massaging his rear as he walked into your house with a slight limp.
All pain in his body was forgotten the moment he really took in his surroundings. Everything about you was here. Photos, upon photos of family and friends. Tacky magnets and polaroid's stuck to your refrigerator. Dishes stacking up in your sink, clothes everywhere, music and movies littering the entire premises. This whole area reeked of you, Adrian began to think there was more he could ever learn from you here than talking to you upfront.
He slowly stepped into your home, he noticed a little night-lamp running near your living room, emitting a hazy orange light into the otherwise dark space. He first made his way to the kitchen, taking in every small little detail he could make of. Your bin was full, he clearly needed to change it for you. You had a shit ton of trash everywhere in the kitchen, he obviously had to throw it out. Your fridge had no food in it, signifying either low money or poor eating habits, he’d help you get out of either.
He took a polaroid from your fridge, and inspected the picture. It was you next to a friend, your arms wrapped tightly around their frame. He read the sharpie underneath the picture,
‘Me and Hot Bitch’
He raised his eyebrows at the statement, placing the polaroid back underneath a magnet and huffing out a taken aback breath. Adrian scanned for another polaroid. His breath hitched at the sight, you had a polaroid of you smiling up at the camera. Lips pulled into a tight yet warm smile. He took the polaroid from the fridge, looking down at it through the red lenses of his visor. There were practically hearts in his eyes, feeling his blood shoot straight down to his cock as you looked up at the camera like that.
“Oh shit…” He cursed and mumbled underneath his breath, pocketing the polaroid into his velcro vest pocket as future spank bank material. You and your gracious features now permanently a physical form for him to look at any time, what a privilege it was to have.
He tread away from the kitchen, satisfied with what he found and moved along to the living room. Your living room was in a similar disorder, magazines and books tossed unfairly in the room. He moved to the couch, and bent down with a wide grin plastered along his face.
His fingers grabbed at a taut and lacy thong. He spun it around his fingers, giggling and cursing to himself, clutching onto the fabric like it was treasure. Forbidden and just out of reach. He brought it up to his nose, inhaling your smell through his fabric mask. He groaned as he inhaled you, hand instantly moving to palm his growing erection, before forcing to stop himself. Now was not the right time, not while he had the whole rest of your house to explore, the mystery of your perfection still not unraveled yet.
Adrian took the thong and placed it in his back-pocket. He moved further through the house, eventually reaching your bedroom, the only room he had never been able to see through properly. His hands trembled as he reached for the handle, slowly turning it open and letting it loose the moment he heard a ‘click’.
Pushing the door open, he took a small step, peaking his masked head curiously into the room. It reeked of your smell in here, perfume and washing detergent. Everything in here seemed to be the exact replica of what he saw in your living room. There were still heaps of clothing strewn about, more thongs and bras begging to be stolen by him. You had more books, magazines, cds and posters decorating the room. He didn’t know where to start.
He sneaked by your dresser, opening it and taking a peek at all of your clothes. He noticed your wardrobe was mainly shirts, low-cut jeans and short skirts. He slowly pulled the drawer back in, not finding anything of significant importance for him to steal. Adrian bent down to the bottom drawer, budging it open and instantly flushing red at the sight.
“Holy shit.” He gawked.
Adrian was met with the unholy sight of sex-toys sitting stiffly. Taunting and igniting a hot burst of arousal deep within his loins. He instantly darted out to grab a pink dildo, grabbing it firmly with his hands. Adrian was in pure admiration and shock at the plastic, wondering instantly to himself, ‘When was the last time you used it?’, ‘How often did you use it?’, ‘Did you wash it afterwards?’, ‘Is he currently touching the inside of your pussy right now?’ He groaned and let out a breathless laugh, holding it up to his face and rubbing his cheek along the plastic. He bet you were so warm.. So inviting for him. He had to fight the urge not to steal the dildo, to keep this object forever entombed with your liquids and juices.
He looked down at his ever-growing erection, his pants feeling tighter and tighter, as he continued his escapade through your drawer. He held the dildo in front of his face, admiring it with a sheen and pure look on his face.
“One day I am coming back for you, and one day I am going to use you on her.” He affirmed, before planting a short kiss to the plastic and placing it back down into the dresser. Adrian spent the next 10 minutes carefully examining all of the sex-toys in the dresser. Grabbing a vibrator, flicking the switch on letting out a guffaw of giddiness at the hum. He’d take the toys and plant a few swole kisses through his mask to the hard plastic every so often, flushing hot at the fact he was basically kissing the aroma of your pussy.
With one last laugh, he forced his self to close your dresser shut. With a playful step, he stood up from where he crouched and skipped back outside the bedroom. Well, he considered this quite the successful mission. In the span of one night he managed to borrow a sexy photo of you, borrow your thong, and kiss your sex-toys. He practically danced his way back to the back-door, unlocking it with a small click and hopping out your house, making sure to do the lock closed as he shut the door, graciously hopping over your fence knowing that he got exactly everything he wanted this night.
Adrian ran back home, unscathed and free, left without a trace.
The second time he came over, he performed this exact same ritual. Making himself home through that unlocked bathroom window, carefully skipping throughout your house and attending to every minute difference he began to notice. Quickly, he realised that your mess seemed to be more organised. Possibly you took the absence of your underwear as a fault of your own messiness. Adrian beamed at the idea, you were so oblivious you were being cherished by a man as caring as him.
He moved to your sex-toys with quick haste, sniffing at them and palming his groin at the pink plastic, groaning into his mask as he aroused himself to the idea you were pleasing yourself on such inanimate objects. He couldn’t help but boast to himself how much you would really enjoy the real deal with him, to bond with him so intimately. These toys couldn’t give you what you needed, but at least they were there to keep you satisfied long enough.
After Adrian was done palming himself and closed the drawer shut, he decided to flop into your bed. Groaning satisfied as your smell enveloped him, your sheets were so soft, so inviting to his sore groin and tired limbs. He closed his eyes shut, humming in satisfaction at how warm you must’ve felt. He lay there eerily still, inhaling and exhaling with deep controlled movements, taking in as much of you as he could.
These small rituals of his would later be complete, and as quick as he’d come, he’d leave through your back-door, satisfaction deep in his bones as he’d skip back home, finding his car parked a few streets down, jacking himself off in the driver's seat with the scent of you still fresh in his mind, and later turning the ignition on to drive back home. This routine of his became the most important of his life. But it ultimately served to destroy him.
It was the first night he screwed up. After a few solid and precise weeks of easily slinking in and out of your house, his pattern went haywire. His rituals were interrupted.
You had shown up early tonight, the sound of your keys jamming into the front door instantly alerted him. You were completely wasted as you fumbled helplessly with your keys. Adrian instantly blurted out a muffled curse, running into your bedroom and moving underneath the bed, keeping his presence as hidden as possible.
You stumbled into your home, lightly mumbling to yourself as you tossed your bag onto the floor and tripped over your feet to the bedroom. He could see your heels from under the bed, the curve of your ankle. The mattress over him bent to your own will, curving inward as you slumped over the bed.
After a few bygone minutes, you were snoring loudly into your pillow. He took this as an opportunity to roll out from under the bed. He stood up clumsily on his feet, looking down at your figure strewn over the sheets, still wearing your clothes from tonight, heels uncomfortably attached to your feet and your eyeliner smudged down your cheek.
Adrian really took a moment to stare down at you from here, fighting back a low hum of pleasure at the way you seemed so content, so easy to love, your skirt pushed past that curve of your ass.
He winced out a curse as his hand went down to his crotch once again. This was the closest he had ever managed to get to you since the day you first looked at him in Fennel Fields. This was the closest you were probably ever going to be to him. You were so perfect up close like this, so clueless to the things he thought of you, to the things he’s stolen and the things he’s touched of yours.
Adrian fought not to touch you, he wanted to respect you, he didn’t want to hurt you. Adrian knew he had an issue but that issue did not involve touching women while they were this vulnerable. But God, you weren’t just any woman, you were his woman. You trusted him, he thought. You saw him at that diner, that was an invitation enough. Most people avoided him, avoided his gaze, but you seemed willing enough. Yeah.. you’d love him.
Adrian reckoned, the moment his hands were on your body, and you were able to feel just how talented he was with his movements, that you would instantly fall in love with his touch. All those hours watching that porn on his phone gave him a talent, a talent you were sure to fall in love with. His hand slowly reached out to your face, a gloved thumb pushing against your cheekbone. His heart stuttered at the pudginess of your face, this here was history made. The first time he had ever laid a finger on you.
You were barely receptive, just a limp face underneath his gloved finger. He took it upon himself to push further, adjusting so his palm was now flat against your cheek. You were so warm, perfectly sculpted for the curve of his hand. He leant down on the floor, crouching beside your bed as he pushed all of that messy hair away from your face.
You weren’t provoked by any of his touches, just breathing heavily in your alcohol-induced sleep. Your soft lips slightly parted as quiet snores escaped you. He grinned widely at the sight. Slowly, his thumb began to trace down to the bottom of your lip, jutting the tip of it along the soft layer of skin. His thick gloved finger pulled down the flesh, watching the way the lip bounced back the moment he pulled away. His eyes were flickering with a flushed desire, a sparkle in his eye invisible through his red lenses.
His thumb darted back to your lip, caressing it gently before poking the pad of his thumb deeper into your mouth. You were knocked out cold, your lips naturally forming over the thumb and widening at his deepening digit.
He pulled away after a few seconds, moaning slightly at how feeble you were to his actions. How could he not touch you after that? After the way you seemingly further invited him to you now, your jaw slack at the aftermath of his warm poking thumb.
He slowly stood up from the floor, taking a hand to his crotch, rubbing his erection mindlessly as he looked down to your unconscious and sleeping form. Technically nothing he was doing now was illegal, you had drunk yourself to unconsciousness, your bathroom window was always open for him to come in, he hadn’t laid but an innocent finger to your face. Besides, your body unconsciously complied with his choice, your jaw fell to his thumb, that was sign enough for him.
He began to rub at his crotch faster, palming his hard-on with a passive vigour. A few silent gasps and whimpers escaped his lips as he looked down to your stupefied expression, your lips parted and your body so animated yet still. He bit down on his lip as he began to tug his cock out of his uniform, undoing the zipper and pulling the hot member out.
He pulled and ran his tight clammy fist over his cock, pulling and pulling as he took notice of every single feature of yours. Closer to you, he could notice every single blemish and flaw that made his release draw nearer. He whimpered slightly, the noise a tid-bit too loud yet too impossible to contain. You were so perfect there, a leg over and pulled up to your chest, hair sprawled in perfect curls over your outfit.
You were so dressed up, and now fully undone. He paused his movements on his cock for a moment, breath hitching and desperate to catch air. His mask was suffocating him, but he couldn’t pull it off. He whimpered and felt agitated, too used to the ridges of his palm to reach the orgasm he knew he deserved.
He looked down at your palm laying limp on the pillow, and he slowly began to reach out for it. No coherent thought was playing in his head at this moment. He was too blind-sided by his own haste and obsession to consider where he drew the lines at legal and illegal. Adrian just needed an extra boost, he’d promise he wouldn’t take anymore from you. He just had to feel the difference of your skin against his cock, your palms were probably so soft, probably so perfectly fitted around his lustful length of flesh.
He grabbed your limp wrist, taking his other hand to curl your fingers loosely around his cock. He instantly pushed back a moan at the sensation. He was exactly right, those fingers were made to fist his cock. He held your fingers around his dick, and began to slowly thrust in and out of the make-shift flesh-light. Adrian was being so careless, grabbing you and using you to succumb to his insatiable bouts of pleasure, but fuck he knew he needed this more than ever, he knew he deserved this more than ever.
After all those months of pining after you, taking care of you without you ever knowing. Making sure to always keep a watchful and protective eye on you at all times. Following you around town, tailing you behind your car, making sure you were always safe. He’d always break in, near every day and every night just to make sure everything in your home was always in order. This was your way of showing your gratitude to him, by letting your wrist limpen and obeying to the thrusting of his cock in your palm.
He thrust faster into your hand, his hips occasionally stuttering and Adrian finding himself losing a rhythm. It was not very often a girl had her hands wrapped so enthusiastically around his cock. The fact you weren’t waking up now was good enough. And, he hadn’t forgotten the glance you gave him at the Fennel Fields. He’d constantly repeat these little tid-bits of information to himself as he continued to messily thrust into your hand.
Your name began to arise on the tip of his tongue, feeling his release draw shockingly near as he continued to use your hand like this. He groaned out feeble little whimpers, trying his hardest to initiate some kind of dirty talk he learnt from the porn as he had you palming his cock like this.
“You’d want my cock, so-so bad yeah?” He nodded through the mask, the vision of you obscured as his lenses began to fog up.
“You’d probably- take it- so” Adrian halted his words with a whimper, feeling your palm squeeze to its own accord, his hand around yours had nothing to do with the movement. He faltered but still continued to chase his release, he was too close to coming now, he couldn’t hold back.
In just the span of a few seconds, thick ropes of cum spurted from his dick, landing on your wrist, some splashing onto your sheets, the rest finding a home in your hand. Adrian instantly cursed out a worried obscenity, the clarity of the situation washing over him as the cum seeped down your skin.
“Shit! I’m so sorry-” He whispered out to you in a worried apologetic tone, despite the fact you weren’t ever going to respond. He quickly moved across the room to where your tissues were and took a dozen handfuls. He moved over to your body and began to wipe away clumsily at where he spilled his seed all over you.
Your body began to move, a groan threatening to slip past your lips as the sensation of tissue rubbing harshly along your skin managed to stir you awake. Adrian instantly took notice, pulling his cock back into his pants and running stealthily out of the room.
He exited your home as soon as he could, letting the back-door shut and leaving you to your own devices. A tissue left behind in the doorway of your bedroom, and some come staining itself into your mattress. You weren’t able to stay awake long enough to take notice of the intrusion. Your body instantly fell back to sleep the moment you rustled slightly awake, feeling a slight clamminess to your palm but too drunken to worry. That was for another day you were sure, slowly rolling deeper into your pillow and falling back into your peaceful slumber.
When you woke up, you had an incredulous pounding in your head. Your mind felt like it was being pulled and torn from all different kinds of directions. And your hand had felt weirdly dry, like a sticky liquid had spilled all over it but you hadn’t bothered to dry it. God, you cursed to yourself, you must’ve gotten way wasted than you thought you did.
You stood up with a grunt, kicking past a dirty tissue on the floor and moving to your kitchen. You took a clean glass from your drying rack, and filled it up with tap water. In record time, you slammed back the drink.
You felt dizzy, clutching onto your head desperately. You looked around your kitchen, trying to make order of how different it seemed to look. Your eyes darted to the glass you had just drank from, and you narrowed your eyes suspiciously at it.
You didn’t remember cleaning this.
You turned it around your palm, inspecting how shockingly clean it seemed to be. You were no regular maniac when you cleaned your dishes, you always just tossed the liquid out and rinsed it out once. This was done by some kind of professional.
You paused, before furrowing your eyebrows further and placing the glass down. Jesus Christ, you were being ridiculous! No maid was coming into your home and polishing your glasses, that was an insane idea. You were becoming painfully crazy. It was this hangover that had you so damn paranoid, you shook your head and walked away from the kitchen.
The rest of the day was spent nurturing your piercing headache, pausing yourself every time bouts of paranoia came over you and forcing yourself to recollect yourself with a few half-assed meditative breaths.
You hadn’t been able to get over the idea that something was so painfully different in your home. It just didn’t look like your house. It was as if someone started rearranging your little tidbits of personality you had scattered along the room. You sat on your couch, your eyes gazing over the living room. You knew something was wrong, but your vision was too obscured with the aftermath of your drinking to take full notice.
Fuck, maybe you should try installing one of those shitty ring cameras on your front and back doors just to put your nerves at ease. But, a part of you also wanted to believe that you were just being incredibly overdramatic. That a few clean glasses and your shirts placed somewhere differently was not worth all of the trouble. But everything was worth a try? Right?
You were so grateful you planted a ring security camera by your doorbell.
In shitty, monochromatic, grainy quality you could just make out the image of a silhouetted suited figure running right where the capture of the camera ended. You saw him. He was only a blur, but he was a blur you could identify.
These past weeks, you knew you weren’t going crazy. Someone had been breaking into your home, this figure was breaking into your home. Fashioning some kind of weird uniform, clearly a front to hide his identity. You recognised the silhouette, that chest-plate sporting those teal arrows on the front.
You hadn’t known what to do with this information. Do you run away? Sell this house and tell your landlord that there is a crazy man breaking into your home nearly every day? You slumped weakly into your couch, hands shaking in fear, your head throbbing at the sheer insanity of this moment.
You felt so stuck despite the fact running was an option. Your body was frozen, but your nerves ran wildly in fear. You swallowed down spit to ease your dry mouth, but you felt your body retch in anxiety.
You felt dizzy with your mind running rampantly in circles, and before you knew it, you were knelt at your toilet seat and vomiting harshly into the bowl, acidic bile gathering in your throat and making release into the toilet water.
You choked out an exhausted breath, pushing yourself up from where you were braced on the toilet and wiping some puke off the side of your lip. You stood up, desperate for some fresh water and rinsed your face clean by the tap.
This was sick. You felt sick.
Your mind instantly recalled back to all those things that you had lost. Your favourite pair of underwear, the trash in your bin, your favourite hair-tie, the polaroid on your fridge.
All these things you thought you had lost to your own fault, were actually at the hands of a masked Vigilante, that was for whatever reason doing all of this to you!
You remembered a tissue on the floor you threw out into the bin. That was not a tissue you remembered using. That was him. His evidence left in your home, evidence that you threw out. You hated yourself. Whatever he had left in that tissue could have easily led you to him, but now that opportunity was gone.
There was always the police you could report to? But you saw this guy on the news. He killed police for a living. What if he was hatching a plan to kill you. What if you were in serious danger?
Your mind worked senselessly to make sense of this situation, to understand the possible motives of this Vigilante. None of it made sense. You fought to understand, why you? What made you so irresistible to this masked man, that he was risking being caught every day and night just to steal some of your shit. Were you really that vulnerable? You felt sick again at the idea, and as quick as you had conjured it up you pushed it down again. No. That was not an option for you. Not now. Not ever.
You had to be careful now, at home, outside, you had to keep an always wary eye, just to make sure you weren’t being followed by him. You wished it hadn’t turned this way, you wished he hadn’t picked you out of all people. You knew moving houses would be too dramatic, so much effort, all of the trinkets in your home would take years to organise and pack. And, the fact not so much as a single scratch was turned on you seemed to be.. Somewhat postive?
This new discovery of yours felt like the defining of a new era, forever you were always going to be on a paranoid toe, an eye wide enough to scan the dark, a chill forever up your spine.
You didn't know what to do now.