People say the heart wants what the heart wants, and mine is tired of playing games, Mara. I followed you after work to the airport and was tempted to catch a flight so I wouldn't have to miss a second of you, but believe it or not, I do have self-restraint. Did you know that? I watched from afar with binoculars as you jetted off with your old man and his wrinkled bag of balls. Then I paced all weekend, imagining you spreading your legs for him like the slut you are.

I'm not jealous, though.

No, I'm an impatient man, and territorial when someone else gets to play with my toys.

But soon, no one will get to enjoy your ballerina body, or beautiful smile, or hear your infectious laughter that digs into my marrow and spreads like vines made of ice. You don't want to know how many times I get off to the sound of your voice. You think I'm a spam caller, so you send me to voicemail, where you ask me to leave a message before the beep. I even recorded it to my phone so I could listen over and over while bringing myself to the brink.

No other woman has been able to do that to me.

No one.

Only you, and your whore of a mouth pronouncing each word. To everyone else, it's just a voicemail message, but to me, it's a plea to find you, wrap my hands around your gorgeous neck, squeeze until veins bulge under my fingers, and your face turns beet red as the pressure builds and you pound my chest with weak little whacks while losing consciousness.

I'm getting lightheaded with arousal just thinking about it, which is why this evening I must finally make my move. I can't take the suspense any longer, and I need to put myself out of my misery by putting you out of yours.

So, I stand in some bushes, watching your parent's house as people arrive. You're having a party, which means plenty of distraction, but the question is, how will I lure you away, Mara?

How do I pounce without getting caught?

Oh... perhaps I don't have to do anything at all. Perhaps you can come to me.

Because there your father is, in the garage with the door wide open for anyone on the street to see, and I've learned enough about you to know that he's an ill man. Not much cooking in the noggin these days, if you know what I mean. I cross the street, weaving through parked cars, and carefully stride up the driveway.

"Mr. Santiago," I say, and your father turns with squinty eyes, trying to remember who I am as if he doesn't want to be rude.

"Josh?"

"Yeah..." I look around, making sure no one is watching or approaching. "Yeah, it's me, Josh."

"I didn't know you were coming today..." Your dad scratches his head, confused.

Frankly, I would be too, because I look nothing like that Zac Efron-looking gym-bro fuck-face I saw at the club a few weeks back. So, your father's mind must seriously be on Mars today, which is perfect for me. If my plan goes fubar, and the police question him, he'll say he went for a walk with Josh, and they'll go looking for your stupid ex-boyfriend instead of me.

"Mr. Santiago, would you like to take a walk with me, to talk about Mara?"

"Sure." He sets one of his tools down, for whatever he was about to fix. "Is everything ok?"

"Never better." I steer him down the driveway to the sidewalk. "I want Mara back, and I was wondering if you could give me tips on how to win her over?"

Your father's face lights up, and this is too easy. I almost pity the man and feel bad for taking advantage of his illness.

Almost feel bad.

But I can't allow feelings to get in the way of my goal, which is to abduct and kill you, Mara.

It's time.

I've been too patient, and have waited too long.

Tonight, you are mine.

Forever.