The serial killer I know sits and watches his prey. Over and over again. She opens the door between 8:17 and 8:28am everyday to go to work. Her bag changes colors. Not with the seasons, but with the slow build up of time and experience of being thrown on the floor of her car everyday before she leaves for work. Most days she takes the green coffee mug, but today she took the brown one. There appears to be no reason to the switch.

As he watched her, his mind found the twists and turns that made this all make sense. If only she understood his dedication to watching her movements. Social media made it possible, even when he couldn’t make it to the few miles from his home to watch her live her life. The turn that made this all worth it was that someday he’d marry her, once she understood his dedication to her life.

I am as guilty as he is. And so are you. She’s dead now. But our guilt is that we also create twists and turns in our own mind to have it all make sense. To put order to chaos no matter how hard it maybe to connect the dots using logic, your mind works like his. A sign from God could be all that separates you from becoming like him and getting lost in this escape.

My impulse is to provide you with a list of nice to haves and requirements. Like searching for a new vendor to provide office wide VOIP service. I’m more interested in the art of unwrapping you. The slow glow of an evening winding down and you’re left with little more than yourself. That’s where I come in. Giving you an excuse. A reason to waver from the path you’re on. You shouldn’t be up this late. Or reading this right now. He told me he didn’t have a choice when he did what he did. But, you have a choice. Or at least to others looking over your shoulder, they’d tell you had a choice. I see things a little differently though.

If you weren’t seeking something you wouldn’t have read this far. You’ve been caught. The question is what are you going to do about it? Are you ready to give in and submit to a stranger on the internet turning your life inside out. The desperate ache you wake up with each morning that only goes away when you’re forced to sneak into a public bathroom and cover your mouth as you cum. Or the way you smile and blush when you open up a message from me at a girls night out. It’s fun, but not as fun as being home and letting me seep into your mind, before your great undoing.

No one has to know who you’ve become and who has corrupted you. No one has to know who has broken you and bent you to their will. But you and I both know, that you’re as guilty as he is.