Bella shuffled her feet in anticipation; the day she'd waited for all year had finally come. She'd picked out the perfect dress, settled on the perfect lipstick colour, found the perfect dress, and planned the perfect date. Norman hated latecomers; he was always at least five minutes early, so she'd arranged her itinerary to ensure she'd run into Norman as soon as he arrived, proving they were on the same wavelength.
Now, all that was left was getting on the bus that would drop her a short walk away from the cafe where they'd meet.
The bus, which for the first time in six months, was running late. Like, really late. At this rate, she'd get to the cafe just in time instead of the five minutes earlier she'd planned. Cursing, she pulled out her phone. She waited anxiously as the Uber app booted up, looking for nearby rides. Of course, there were none. She put her head in her hands, ignoring the familiar burn of tears at the back of her eyes. The one day she needed to be on time, everything failed her.
Honk! Her head shot up at the deep blast of a car's horn. Parked where her bus should be was a car she'd recognise anywhere.
"Hey, neighbour! Don't you have a date today?"
"The bus is late, and I can't find any rides", she sniffled.
"Oh! You're going to that cafe on Maple Street, right? I can give you a ride."
"Really?"
"Yeah, hop in!"
At last, Bella's day was looking up once more.
Ten minutes later, she was in front of the cafe, bolstered by the luck her good Samaritan had wished for her.
She took a deep breath, put on her best smile, and walked into the cafe to the table where Norman was already seated.
"Norman, hi! I hope I haven't kept you waiting; the bus took forever to show up."
"No, actually, you're early."
He beamed at her, pink lips stretching to reveal blinding, white, even teeth.
This date would be perfect.
.
.
.
The date was perfect.
They'd ordered coffees before heading to the restaurant where she'd reserved a table. There, they'd demolished a three-course meal, exchanged ideas on life, gossiped about their bosses, and critiqued the wine until the two hours she'd reserved the table for were over.
"Would you like to come to mine, try some real wine?"
She looked at him coyly before replying, "Of course."
Two hours later, she pressed the doorbell to the house opposite hers, with a bouquet of red roses in hand. When the door opened, she stretched them out to her saviour from earlier, her neighbour and Norman's friend, Andres.
"Thanks for the ride earlier."
He grinned and accepted the flowers.
"Aww, you didn't have to."
"Uh, yes, I had to. You saved me back there. All my planning would've been wasted if I showed up late to my first date with Norman; you know how he is about punctuality."
"Tell me about it", he chuckled. "How'd the date go, anyway?"
"It was okay. We went to that new restaurant next to the mall—the wine there was so good!"
"That's great to hear. Now, off to bed you go; you've got work tomorrow."
"Thanks again. Good night, Andre."
"Good night!"
Once his door clicked shut, Bella rushed into her apartment with a wild blush on her face. He'd seemed really happy when he saw the flowers; he'd even brushed her fingers when he took them!
It was working; soon, Andre would ask her to be his girlfriend, and they'd have the happy ever after she'd always dreamed of.
She would have him; she was sure of it.
.
.
.
Across the hall, Andre sat on the floor, nose buried in the roses. She'd tried to spray her perfume on them, but a metallic undertone still wafted up to meet him.
He pictured Bella sitting on the rug in Norman's apartment, dipping her brush in the gaping hole she'd cut into Norman's belly, painstakingly coating each white petal in the mixture of blood and paint she'd concocted, letting them dry as she cleaned up the mess Norman had made.
All that hard work, just for him.
From the day he'd seen her dragging her ex's dismembered body to the lake in that Hello Kitty suitcase, he knew she was what he'd been waiting for.
Weeks of following her around, cataloguing her likes and dislikes, her favourite colours and foods, had helped him work up the courage to move in next to her. It was a bit dangerous, he knew. She could sneak in whenever she wanted and spot the wall of photos he'd hidden behind the dark curtains in his bedroom. She could have dug through his garden to find her missing tube of lipstick, the pinky nail of her second favourite press-ons, the twin to the unicorn earring sitting in her dresser—all the little trinkets he'd pilfered from his late-night escapades into her home.
Luckily, she seemed to like him too, and she'd focused on bringing him the cutest gifts: a book stolen from the professor he hated, a knit sweater that had strands of her hair intertwined with soft wool, and now, roses painted with the blood of the man who had tried to steal his business.
Nothing would ever compare to the rush of blood to his head when he'd tuned in to the listening device he'd planted on her phone to hear her reprimand the traitor while she hacked away at his skin.
He wanted her. He needed her.
And he would have her. It wasn't time, not yet, but he would have her.
ns216.73.217.153da2
and then Add to home screen.