Disclaimer: Read only if you are 18+.
He opened his eyes. He felt wide awake. It was almost like he never slept. He checked the clock. It was 4:30 am. The alarm was set for 5:00. The laptop lied on his bed besides a bowl of chips he was hogging while binge watching last night. He felt drained of energy but then he thought of Anoopa and got out of the bed. He switched on the bathroom light, snatched the toothbrush, squeezed the toothpaste on it and started brushing vigorously. A charming young adult with brown eyes stared back at him through the mirror. His eyes were still red. He gargled water and splashed some on his face, cleaning his eyes. He rushed back in the room and approached the window and pulled the curtains away.
The park was dimly lit with orange incandescent light bulbs. The jogging track was empty. He waited for a sign of footsteps but the park was dead silent. He checked the time again. It was 4:45 am. “What’s taking you so long, sweetheart?” He muttered to himself. He started pacing in the room, occasionally checking his phone.
Few minutes later, he heard the park gate creak. His heart was racing now. He peeped through the curtains and there she was. Oh god! Why do pretty things even exist? He sighed. Five (5) feet 9 with jet-black dark hair tied up, Anoopa was in her usual jogging outfit: blue t-shirt which did a great job of outlining her boobs and a trackwear that stuck tight to her ass. Headphones plugged in, she would jog for twenty minutes before stopping for stretch exercises. He already had done filming her, and used those for his own profit but the game was getting old. He wanted more, and fast. Of course, he knew he couldn’t ask her out. She would never go out with a librarian even though he was breathtakingly handsome. Also, he had stalked her for about three months now and was almost certain of her and Rajeev, her colleague, forming a connection. He was slightly agitated even with that thought. He could totally predict the string of events if he asked Anoopa to marry him. She would refuse and would even stop coming in his library for those stupid sociology books she kept reading endlessly. That would be the end of his fantasy. But he wanted her:alive or dead. It was time to make that reality.
He could hear her jogging shoes thudding on the cobblestone track. Pretty soon, other chicks and senior citizens would flood in. He had to do it today.
There was something about women jogging that really satisfied him. The sweat-drenched clothes, the messy hair, the blood-rush. He was obsessed about it.
He opened the drawer and saw the swing rope, coiled neatly. It was time to put that to use. He lifted it and ran his fingers across the contours, picturing it around Anoopas sweaty neck. He imagined her futile attempts of trying to untie the weapon and all he would do is whisper things that he would do to her in her ear. He would trace her lips when her mouth is gagged with cotton and bite and she will whimper in pain. He would sniff her hair and the aroma and would do it.
The alarm rang. It was 5:00 am. It was time.