[10/21/2021 1:31 PM] This message was sent with high importance
To: Brooks, Johnathan
Re: Alice! I Saw you at my mom’s funeral…how are things?
I don’t remember much of myself, can’t remember hard enough. Doesn’t matter now. Let’s catch up, It’s been awhile, how’ve you been?
Recall me as my new identity, Alice. Well, for now.
Remember when I drew that pretty lil’ picture for you? Ring any bells? Me and you together holding hands written in dark pen? That’s gone now isn’t it? The way you looked at me as you shred it to pieces, you smiled. I didn’t cry. I’m not mad about it. To me it wasn’t pain, it felt…like a game. It was my turn. You took my heart, I’ll take what you love more. What’s in my way. Loving this game.
Heard your voice mail, two cops found her. I really should’ve buried her deeper or something. Didn’t hide it well enough.
You don’t know how LONG it took for your mother to be convinced with my trust. She invited me to dinner. Her taste in food wasn’t really my style, but to make up for it, we had many things in common. Maybe a lil’ bit of a lie or two but, it worked. Our bond grew stronger.
Y’know that was probably the toughest part of the plan, she NAILED IT. Pretty easy afterwards, just a few knock-ups and some injections, wounds to open, easy to cut considering her skin was soft and gentle, like cutting dough with scissors.
Now transportation was also pretty tough. I couldn’t find anywhere to put her, I was thinking of burning her but she had not ONE lighter in her house. She has absolutely nothing. Had to drive to this abandoned wheat field over in Preston 20TH ST, something like that. Dumped her there. I’ll figure something out later.
Now that I’ve got your eye. Why?
Maybe I’m lying, maybe I am mad. Upset, I don’t feel well when I think of you, but I want you. Your taste is what I want more than anything. And I want you to feel, how I felt. I want you, to feel the pain I endured. What’s it’s like to be what I am. Cold, unliked, a . living loop of life watching everyone you love no longer exist. I want you to feel my venom in my teeth press against your neck, long enough to feel what it feels like one more time, having living body.
When you die leaning against my shoulder, I want to hear your last puffs of breath, begging for me to stop. But I won’t.
I’m coming for you. Only I’ll look different, dead, hungry.
I crave you Johnathan.