Page 1 of Final Girl

Chapter One

Standing over the finished work of my latest victim, I give myself a pat on the back. Not literally, of course, because that’s lame as fuck. Looking down at her chest, the words ‘See Me’ carved into the flesh starring back at me. When he sees my latest message, he’ll know, right?

When he sees this, he’ll know this was all me. He has to know. Will he understand why? That I did this for him. For us.

Well, he better.

Everything I do is for him. For him to finally see me. To realize I’m the one who loves him.

I understand him.

Not her.

Never that bitch.

She doesn’t see him like I do.

Doesn’t understand him.

We’re just alike.

The killer drive that lives in him has been festering inside me.

Have I not shown him I’m the one he needs? That I’m his perfect match. Does he pay attention to the news? Sometimes I wonder if I’m doing this for nothing. In person, he often appears oblivious to my presence, but every now and then, I catch him stealing glances in my direction. Looks he thinks I don’t notice.

Subtle.

Expressions he used to only give to her when no one was watching but me. Now I think his eyes are on me, finally. I discovered his deepest and darkest secret. I uncovered his dirty truth by following him night after night. Of course, he didn’t think anyone was watching him, or following his every move. But I was. I do. I see him. I’ve been in love with him for years. Tired of waiting for him to make the first move, I’ve had to up my game.

Make him see me.

The way I see him.

Truthfully.

Raw.

Unfiltered.

That first night, watching him choke the life out of a man before stabbing him, I was shocked, thinking I should turn him in. I watched from the shadows, unsure what my next step would be. Only the longer I stood there, I realized what he was doing gave me this thrill. One I’d never felt before. So I did nothing. I kept tracking him. The more nights I watched him work, carving men up, chopping their body parts into pieces. It all fit together. Who his targets were. Why he chose them. I wanted him to obsess over me the way I do him. The more he killed for her, the more obsessed I became. It’s why I’ve turned into this.

Why I thirst for her blood.

Why I want to kill her.

Why I kill for him.

Maybe I’m out of my mind and need to be locked up in a mental asylum. Who knows? But deep down I know with all my black heart he’s mine, and I’m his. Hopefully he knows that, because my next victim, well, if this latest victim doesn’t show him who I am, and open his eyes to, well, me. Then he’ll lose the one and only thing I’ve ever seen him truly love.

Her.

Then perhaps, after all this time, it will finally be my chance.

He’s going to see.

We belong together.

I’m his perfect match.