Three months into my new life in London, the older couple in the adjoining house next door moved out, and my undoing moved in. Her name was Claudia Atkinson, and she was one of the most stunning women I’d ever seen. She had long, red hair which she normally kept back in a ponytail, but when she let it down she took my breath away. She had beautiful, light-blue eyes, a narrow but perfect nose, pink, utterly kissable lips, and a body every man wanted.
Before I could stop myself, I was in love with Claudia. I thought she felt the same about me, at least, until Geoffrey started coming around. Claudia quit hanging out with me altogether and spent all her time with her new man. After only a few weeks he moved in. It was torture to see those two so happy together, hugging, kissing and then disappearing into her bedroom for the night.
I sat in my darkened car and watched them together night after night. Evil thoughts started creeping back into my head, quiet at first, then growing in volume. I tried to ignore them but they wouldn’t go away. I blamed Claudia for those thoughts because she’d turned my happy life in London into a hellish nightmare. I loved her yet I hated her. The conflicting emotions brought confusion to my mind again and that’s when my need for blood really took root and started growing. The need became uncontrollable after I caught her alone once and asked what happened to ‘us’. She claimed there never was an ‘us’, we were just friends. I was more like a brother to her than a boyfriend.
I remained calm as she walked away, but inside I was devastated. My heart broke… a brother? She saw me as a brother? It took a few days before anger settled in overtaking and smothering any love I felt for her. I no longer saw any reason to fight who I was. My belief that every woman was an evil, hateful bitch returned twice as strong. I began to fantasize about killing each and every woman I saw. I found it difficult to sleep and I had no appetite. There was only one thing left I could do. It was half past three on yet another sleepless night when I gave in, and reopened my story. I thought if I wrote about killing her, put my murderous thoughts down in words, it might help get this feeling out of my system. I managed to write a few pages but the familiar unrest was still there. I felt like I was shaking, almost vibrating, like a junky craving a fix. My brain went fuzzy like there was a sheer, gray curtain between me and my thoughts. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t pierce the curtain to let the words flow forth. Up until then, I’d only found one way to drop the curtain…
While part of me still didn’t want to resort to those measures again, my anger for Claudia was making it near impossible to restrain myself. Afraid of what would happen if I couldn’t resolve this dilemma, I decided to try my blog for inspiration. I wrote a post on my website saying how I had writer’s block, and asking if anyone could help me visualize the murder scenes.
Slowly, day by day, my readers offered up ideas. I tried imagining each of them in my head so I could write about them, but nothing convincing came. I thanked them all for their help but sank deeper into my thoughts. As the curtain became denser, I felt like a failure. I tried to ignore my story again, write something different, but I couldn’t even write about a normal, everyday experience. Like an impotent man in the bedroom I’d become useless at the keyboard. Still I kept trying.
Christmas came and I was alone in a foreign country, homesick, and desperate for some kind of female interaction. Unable to find any, I sat in my backyard wrapped up like I was on a North Pole expedition, drinking beer and watching Geoffrey and Claudia enjoying their holidays together. New Year’s Eve was my breaking point. I was five beers into a twelve pack and watching the show next door like normal, still hoping I’d witness them break up. They seemed different as they cleared the table of their dishes. They were smiling and touching more than normal. It wasn’t long until they were kissing, and I expected them to head for the bedroom but, this time, they stripped down right there in the kitchen.
I sat stunned as I watched Claudia lay back onto the table, but it was watching Geoffrey pound away at her that made my anger grow with each passing minute. When I’d decided it couldn’t get any worse, he let Claudia up so he could bend her over the table and come at her from behind. I stood there freezing in my backyard, watching Claudia’s naked body bounce with each thrust from her lover. Her eyes were closed as she enjoyed the pleasure Geoffrey gave her, and when she opened them she was looking right at me. I’d thought I was well hidden under a sheet of tarp I’d rigged up, but I could have sworn she was smirking like she knew I was watching. Looking right at me, she smiled.
She was doing this to hurt me, I knew she was. She knew how I craved to be the one inside her. She wanted me to see how happy she was, see what I couldn’t have. My temper boiled over. I wanted to barge in and kill them both. It was that moment I decided Claudia Atkinson was going to die….
When I sneaked into her house, I thought it was Claudia in the shower. It never occurred to me that her mother may be paying her a visit. In the end it didn’t matter. Her mother’s death inspired me to complete several more chapters of my novel.