Into The Woods

Chapter 2

Maya POV

2 weeks Later

It was the creak of the window opening that sent fear slivering up my spine. My heart beats faster as I frantically try to see in my darkened room when I see a man creep into my room from the open doorway. His eyes glow in the dark, amber, beady, inhuman eyes. The eyes of a monster watching me as he steps deeper into my room. My scream lodges in my throat, which grows tighter as I remember what the psychologist told me, and I clench my eyes shut.

“He’s not real. He’s not real.” I whisper repeatedly.

All this time running from my phantom stalker, running from a monster, and it was all for nothing.

He found me. He always does. No matter how many times I flee the cities and move on, he always finds me. Once again, this monster found me, only this time, I have put my family at risk. The stranger’s hand is overly hot as it clamps over my mouth, cutting my whispers off. I struggled against his impossibly tight hold, panic welling deep inside of me, and I was about to let a scream rip out of me, hoping my parents would hear and maybe run before he got to them.

They didn’t believe me when I moved back home and told them that someone was stalking me. They simply brushed it aside and said I was being silly and that a woman of my age shouldn’t be living at home with her parents because she was afraid of the boogeyman. I was barely twenty-four, yet on the day of my eighteenth, they kicked me out because, to them, I was always the troubled kid, the curious morbid kid, and my twin. Well, she was always the perfect daughter. They had no hopes for me and didn’t want me influencing her in any way. Anything I did just wasn’t enough for them, and it never would be.

When I finally return home, I see that I would always remain the opposite of her image. I would always be to blame for my twin’s death. They blamed me for the accident and told me what happened was impossible and blamed it on me for being off my meds. That it was all in my head, yet I know I’m not imagining this, and I know I didn't imagine him getting into my apartment the other week. I just wished they'd listen to me. He has watched me for years since I was a teen, and now he has come after me, and we are all going to suffer for it. Suffer because, after the last attack, it's now made him brazen.

"He's not real," I whisper again. Praying I am as nuts as everyone claims.

“Keep telling yourself that,” he chuckles sinisterly next to my ear; his breath is hot against my skin.

My entire body shakes. My stomach twists with dread, and my heart is pounding erratically. If he is a figment of my imagination, why do his hands feel so real?

“I have a gun and a knife with me. I don’t want to hurt you, but if you push me there, I may just have to. I’m going to release your mouth. If you scream, I’ll kill you. Do you understand me?” He growls into my ear, and chills travel up my spine. Cold sweat trickles down my throat, but I feel trapped.

A squeak escapes me as he removes his hand from my mouth. “Now, be a good girl, and I will think about letting your parents live. You have no idea how upset I was to learn my little mate fled the city,” he growls menacingly.

Mate? What does he mean?

“P-please,” I stammer out. “What… Do you want with me? I have done nothing to you.” I plead, my voice shaking.

“Oh, precious, you didn’t have to do anything. It was destined to be.” he chuckles darkly as tears spring to my eyes. “The day I picked up your scent, I knew that you were mine. So I've watched you and waited. And my, what a lovely woman you have turned into. You are mine, little mate. You’ll see. Now, as for the other question, what do I want with you? I want to make you mine.” he purrs. His thumb strokes up the side of my neck, and I feel my body respond. The sound is odd and sends a shiver down my spine. This man is insane. His words are one of a madman. He might say he won’t kill me, but he will. I know he will. No one says things like that and lets a person live.

“P-please let…” My words get stuck in my throat. Somehow I’m unable to word anything properly. The fear I feel is too much. Threatening to take over and pull me into its icy grasp.

“What would you like me to do?” he replied with a chuckle, running a hand down the length of my arms as his mouth slowly found its way to my neck, and I whimpered, hating the feeling of his tongue rolling over my skin.

“I… I have money. I can give you whatever you want,” I try to tell him. I can’t even recognize my own voice.

“I don’t want your money.”

“Then what do you want?”

“You.” His voice is husky with arousal.

“P-please…I—” he waves his hand, cutting me off.

“The sooner you understand you are mine, the better it will be for the both of us. Begging won’t help you in this case, though you do beg prettily. I’m no ordinary man, sweetheart.”

I whimpered when he yanked the blanket back, exposing my body, which was only covered by a thin nightdress.