Every Little Breath: A Tense Psychological Thriller Full of Twists
Every Little Breath: Now – Chapter 14

Public displays have never been my style. I much prefer to go about my business quietly and privately. It is how I have gone undetected for so long.

A secluded location and a random victim. The police always focus their investigations closer to home, scrutinising family and friends, work colleagues, maybe any handymen or delivery workers their missing person may have been in contact with. They will check internet usage and social media, looking for any clues.

But they won’t replace any trace of me there or in the victim’s home. That is because there is no connection. Since I choose at random, they will struggle to uncover my identity, and as I never leave a body or a murder weapon, all they ever have is a missing person. While they are conducting their investigation sixty-odd miles away, I can have my fun.

Isolated, safe, secure, those were the three things I was looking for when I chose my den.

I researched carefully, knew I needed a place that would give me privacy, somewhere safe enough that I could leave my guests and not have to worry that they might escape or be found while I am gone. That was important, because I like to play and when I play, I like to take my time. It needed to be quiet too. You would be amazed how loudly a person can scream when they are pleading for their life.

You would also be surprised at some of the ways they try to bargain with me, telling me they have kids or sick relatives to take care of, offering me money or sex, which let’s face it, the sex thing is a pretty stupid bargaining chip when they’re tied down and mine to do with as I please. A couple of them have even offered to help me replace other victims.

Can you believe that?

Sometimes I play along, listening earnestly to their tearful pleas, appearing genuinely sorry for what I have done. I even cried with one of the bitches once, had her trying to comfort me and telling me everything was going to be okay. I went as far as untying her and letting her think I was about to let her go free, opening the door for her. Then, as she took her first breath of freedom, I knocked her unconscious. When she awoke she found herself hanging by her wrists from a hook I had bolted into the ceiling and her utter desperation, knowing that her freedom had been snatched away, and things were about to get a whole lot worse for her, is still on my list as one of my top three most memorable moments.

Yes, I keep a list. It’s in my diary, where I like to record everything about them, from the way they smell and how they react to the various things I do to them, to the different ways they try to barter for their lives and the length of time it takes them to die, exactly how they look at the moment I take their last breath from them. I keep the diary with the videos I make and the souvenirs I take. And when I am finished I make sure my victims will never be found.

Quiet, private and under the radar, that is how I operate.

Just sometimes, though, public displays are necessary. And I am about to put on the performance of my life, one I have been preparing for and practising to perfection for years.

In order to pull this off, I have had to change the way I operate. This time, my victims have been pre-planned, there has been some breaking and entering, and I have engaged in some stalking. A delicious kick I have never experienced before.

Right now I am hiding under the bed of my latest target. We have engaged in a little bit of flirtatious banter in recent days. Well, I call it banter, but I don’t think she has appreciated my clown mask and replaceing it pressed up against her kitchen window late at night, just as she didn’t appreciate replaceing me in her house.

She has told the police about me, but they haven’t taken her too seriously. It seems she has a reputation as a troublemaker and for crying wolf, which is bad for her, but good for me, as I have been able to push things a little further knowing there will be no repercussions. I guess in a way I will be doing them a favour by taking her off their hands.

Saffron Pollard has a young son, Alfie, and she shares custody of him with her ex-husband, Tony. This evening she has dropped the kid off at Tony’s house and will be home alone. This is the perfect opportunity for us to finally become properly acquainted.

It has been a long wait for me, but one I know will be worth it, and as I listen to her pottering around downstairs, muttering away to herself as she prepares dinner, smokes countless fags and chats on the phone with a friend, I am reminded of a quote I once saw, that fishing is patience and faith awaiting a nibble, and I can’t help smiling to myself, thinking how true it is.

Saffron is complaining to her friend about the man she has been seeing. She has found out he is cheating on her and the conversation is littered with swear words. I am no prude, but even I am tiring of the constant stream of expletives. I am thinking I might wash her mouth out with soap later.

She is not my usual type. Not at all. I know I can’t always afford to be picky, especially when I usually select victims at random, but if I was out hunting, I wouldn’t stop for her. For starters she is too skinny. I prefer my women to have a little flesh and I imagine there will be no pleasure in grappling with the bony frame of Saffron Pollard.

There is nothing attractive about her either; her hard face and lanky, overly-dyed hair, enough to repel most men, I imagine.

She calls her cheating boyfriend an ‘oxygen thief’ and I smile again, thinking how ironic her turn of phrase is. Saffron Pollard will learn very soon what an oxygen thief really is.

It is close to midnight when she finally comes to bed. I have been waiting for so long I am worried my muscles might start to cramp and I have been trying to do a few stretching exercises in the limited space I have.

The plus side of the hour is that most people will now be asleep, meaning it should be easier to get Saffron out of her house undetected.

I wait until she is in bed and the light has been turned off for a good twenty minutes. Eventually, I hear the sound of snoring and know it is safe to come out.

I have my bag of tricks with me and I slide it carefully over the carpet, moving slowly, as I don’t want to wake her.

Slipping on the clown mask, I sit on the bed beside her. The mattress dips, but the snoring continues as I peel tape from the roll. I lean over her, wanting to be the first thing she sees when she wakes.

For a moment I watch her through the eye slits of the mask, her mouth ajar, sounding like a vile pig. Even in this light, with the glow of the street lamp shining through a crack in the curtains, she repulses me.

In one fluid movement I seal the tape across her mouth.

Limbs flail, her eyes open in shock, blinking furiously, taking a moment to adjust, then spotting me, seeing the mask, she thrashes wildly. I already have hold of her wrists in one gloved hand, am pinning them down as I climb on top of her and she starts snorting in panic, unable to catch her breath.

I taunt her for a moment, let her see my knife, running it across her cheek and down over her neck towards her breasts. I am tempted to play with her for a little while before we leave, but I mustn’t stray from the plan. If I cut her with the knife, it will cause a blood spatter. I don’t want this to be a crime scene. The knife is just for show, to help me instil fear. I need to control myself. We have the whole weekend together and there will be plenty of time to play later.

Twisting the knife, I let the smooth side skim over her nipple, and she trembles in fear beneath me. Fat tears are spilling from her eyes now and snot is dribbling from her nose.

She knows how much trouble she is in.

Dropping the knife, I hit her hard with the side of my hand and she stills, eyes dropping shut.

I move quickly, retrieving rope from my bag and securely binding her wrists and ankles.

I put more tape over her mouth, this time wrapping it around her head so she can’t work it free. I check my knots, satisfied they will hold.

She will wake before I return with my van, but it doesn’t matter. There is no way she can break free, and it will give her a little time to wonder exactly what I have planned for her.