He had wondered what Sara’s parents back in Pennsylvania would have thought of their daughter’s stellar performance when he suddenly come across several dozen letters, all unopened and apparently from her parents. Stanley had decided (perhaps without thinking, he had to admit now) to risk opening up one of the letters and reading it. The letter had been from her father, begging her to forgive him for all of the pain and suffering he’d caused her as a child. He had gone on to tell her that he’d only done what he had done to her because he loved her and begged her to please come home and give him a second chance. Stanley had read the rest of the letter and it didn’t take a genius to figure out by reading between the lines that not only had her father sexually abused Sara but that he was in fact the very reason she was in NYC now acting out other people’s lives in an effort to try and forget her own fucked up past as an abused child.
Stanley had also learned that Sara Hunt was very methodical and faithfully kept a journal of her everyday activities, which she logged into each night before she went to bed. He had quickly skimmed through it and learned that she had recently broken up with her boyfriend and that she now felt “lonely and directionless.” His name was Jonathan Baker and Stanley had later found a photograph of Jon-boy in her photo album. On the back of the picture Sara had written: Jonathan, before he shaved off his beard. I miss that beautiful beard!
Based on what he’d learned in the process of investigating her apartment, Stanley had eventually come to a conclusion: Sara Hunt was a mess. She was insecure, naive, and lonely, had had a terrible childhood full of abuse, and was probably about as vulnerable now as she had ever been in her life since having recently lost her boyfriend of the last three years. Stanley was glad for all of this-the bitch certainly fucking deserved it.
As much as Stanley despised Sara Hunt (and everything that she stood for) he had to admit that she still had one beautiful fucking body. He felt the almost overwhelming urge to masturbate right now as he watched her half nude body gyrating to the music he couldn’t hear. The expression on her face was intense and provocative as she lip-synced the lyrics to whatever song she was grooving to. His hand went down to his crotch for a brief moment and he could feel his rock-hard erection pulsating with the nagging need for release. But he suddenly took his hand away with resigned determination. Tomorrow, Stanley thought, he would have the real thing. He would slice that bitch from both sides and have her screaming for more…
Perspiration had formed on his brow as he continued peering at Sara through the telescope. She was really getting into it now, her hands cupping her luscious tits and her eyes closed tight in ecstasy. He could almost sense that she knew he was watching her and that she was regretful for having ever double-crossed Stanley Jenkins all those years ago at high school. She wanted to make it up to him now by giving him something that would really please him and hopefully make him forget how angry he was with her. She was treating him to his own little private audition and she was going to make it one of her most unforgettable performances yet…
Sara suddenly stopped and froze for a moment. Stanley could tell by the annoyed expression on her face that something had distracted her, possibly the ringing of her telephone. He watched as she turned and headed toward the door, just visible at the far end of the living room. She stood by the door for a moment as if listening to what someone on the other side was saying then suddenly shrugged her shoulders. She said something then moved out of Stanley’s sight. When she returned a moment later and resumed her exercises, it was only for a minute for so. Sara then left the room in a huff.
It started registering with Stanley what may have just happened. A neighbor had knocked on her door and complained about the music so Sara had turned it down before resuming her aerobics. But the lower volume evidently wasn’t to her liking so she had decided to give it up for the night.
Stanley continued peering through the telescope until he saw Sara reappear several moments later. She was carrying a glass of water as she made her way across the living room. She flipped off the light switch before continuing toward the other side of her apartment. This would be her bedroom, Stanley knew, and both of her bedroom windows unfortunately faced the front of the building, out of Stanley’s field of view.
Stanley breathed a long sigh before removing the telescope from the tripod. He now had his plan solidly formulated in his mind and tomorrow he would carry it out.
He retracted the legs of the tripod and stashed away the telescope with a smug grin on his face. He loved the feeling of exhilaration he was experiencing right this moment-that adrenalin-induced high he always felt just before the completion of a mission. By this time tomorrow, he will have succeeded in accomplishing what he had set out to do and be on his way back home.
Did he really want to give all of this up and retire? he wondered. It was all so challenging, so gratifying. Would he truly be happy settling down with a wife and family? Maybe he would only semi-retire, on second thought. She would be able to understand that he was absolutely driven to go out on these missions and how important they were to him, wouldn’t she?
His heart suddenly sank for a moment as it dawned on him that there would no longer be the motivation that had been driving him all along once he settled down. He will have completed his master plan and no longer feel the compulsion to murder again…
Or would he?
Stanley had read somewhere that murder was just like an addictive drug and he was beginning to see what they meant by that. The experience felt so awesome and the high was better than any of the acid he’d dropped in college. And what better way was there to get a point across to some fucking slut than putting a sudden end to her existence? To relieve the world of yet another ungrateful bitch that thought she was so above everyone that her shit didn’t stink? They needed to be taught a lesson, by God! And who better to teach them that lesson than Stanley Jenkins, who had been shit upon his whole goddamn life?
His teeth were now clenched in total extreme rage and Stanley realized that he had just smashed his fist into the concrete wall. He brought his bloodied hand to his mouth and licked at the blood on his knuckles, savoring the salty iron aftertaste. He smiled to himself as he recalled what the shrinks had kept telling him while he was in the nuthouse: “You have got to get a handle on that temper of yours, Stanley, or someone besides yourself might get hurt someday.” He had always hated the way the doctor and entire staff seemed to be talking down to him, as if he were some kind of sick person or total moron. Like, did they really think that he wasn’t already quite aware of his temper? Or that he didn’t know exactly why he had been committed to the institution in the first place? They of course thought he was nuts, but Stanley knew better. He had been sent to the institution because he’d fucked up and that was basically the whole ball of wax. There wasn’t any more to it.
Stanley had played their game though, only because he knew that he’d be in there forever if he couldn’t prove to them that he was “safe to return to society.” It had been a breeze, actually, because he had known just the right things to do and say to the shrinks to win them over and eventually convince them that they weren’t dealing with some lunatic asshole here, but a perfectly sane and intelligent young man who had fooled around and gotten himself just a little too stoned one night at college then pulled a little harmless prank on someone.