The Woman Without
an excerpt

I don’t have to kill if I don’t want to, but I almost always do. There was a point in time years ago when I became somewhat softhearted about it all, which is surprising considering how much of an asshole I usually am to these people. I’d decided to just tire them out and be satisfied with that, leaving them sleeping in their beds while I crawled out a window or closed a door quietly behind me. That didn’t last very long, though.

Left alive, these people tend to become stalkers.

I had to move into a new apartment. I had to change my phone number. This was also during one of those rare times when I was holding down a job and trying to look normal, so I had to get rid of that too. They were calling, showing up, bothering my coworkers, when I don’t recall ever giving out that kind of information. The obsessed are terrifyingly resourceful.

If I could break them of their obsession, fine. If I couldn’t, I ended up killing them. It was a fifty-fifty split, and I haven’t been inclined to be so giving and softhearted since. I also don’t feel like working in an office much anymore.

For now, I spend most of my time in this apartment, writing columns for websites and freelancing for magazines. Not a bad job, really. Anything else I need money-wise I end up lifting off my “dates.” Tonight’s date was a guy named Kevin I’d had my eye on for a couple nights. I kept seeing him hanging out about a block away from the Denny’s that’s packed to the gills full of drunks every night, listening to his Walkman and leaning against a parking lot guardrail. He was a bit rough around the edges, and I can only assume he was out there peddling some kind of contraband. Not half bad by city standards, but I never went for the cream of the crop to begin with. Too many people came looking for them, almost immediately. I have a tendency to go for the homeless, bikers, brawlers, dealers, pimps, the kind who have more than one or two natural enemies and a shorter life expectancy. People tend to accept their disappearance or sudden death a lot easier.

I’d stopped and shot the shit with him a couple times after running to the convenience store or exploring the neighborhood. I bummed a smoke off him just to get his name. He’d smiled at me somewhat sarcastically, as if he thought he knew something that I didn’t. I pretended not to notice.

Earlier tonight I’d decided that it was time. I was hungry, more than a little horny, and my skin was starting to wrinkle. Time to get off my ass, set my instant messenger client to away and do my thing. I got ready and headed down the street.