Homesick

We drove up the snowy, winding road towards the cozy A-frame cabin. I knew we were heading there because he was a man of habit. The impulse was carved into his very being, and he was drawn to the cabin every winter like a moth to a flame. But he wasn't a moth, he was a wolf in sheep's clothing.

"Come back to mine, just for one drink," he'd said with a smile that could melt a glacier.

I'm coming home.

He took the long route, the one they didn't bother installing street lights for, the one the police didn't patrol.

"Are you sure this is the right way?" I asked, nervously adjusting the straps of my emerald dress. "I thought Maps had recommended a faster route..."

"This way's better - less ice on the roads, and it's more scenic anyway, thought you'd appreciate it," he said, trying to sound hurt by my lack of faith. Lies. "Trust me," he said as he flicked a charming smile my way.

I didn't.

Outside the window, a blur of snow-covered pine trees streamed by. It was almost 10pm, but was only just now getting dark.

I'm coming home.

The first post-date-car-ride is always awkward, and when the radio is off, like it was now, small talk is really the only option one has to fill the silence.

"So why are you here? In town I mean. Visiting family?"

"Don't have any," he responded rather bluntly, his gaze still fixed on the road ahead. "Parents died when I was a teenager and I never had any siblings."

"Oh, I'm so sorry..." I said as empathetically as I could muster, pretending not to notice he hadn't answered my initial question. Even I was almost convinced it was genuine. "That must've been really hard."

He shrugged.

"It was... But I guess you can't always get what you want, you know? That's life. What about you? Any family?"

"Just a sister. Parents died in my early twenties - which is longer ago than I care to admit - but at least Alice and I had each other to get through it. I'm not sure what I'd do without her."

"Alice? That's a nice name. I like it. Younger or older?"

"Younger."

I don't know why I lied. Alice died two years ago. It's not like he'd have pieced things together if I hadn't. Part of me felt like he didn't deserve to know her name, and it sickened me to hear him say it. Not that he cared anyway. I doubt he even remembered meeting her. He was the last person to ever see her alive, and I hated him for that.

I'm coming home.

When we finally arrived at his place, it didn't disappoint. It was a loft-style cabin, with a small kitchen and a gas stovetop to the right of the entryway. To the left - a small lounge area, centred around a fireplace, and at the back were stairs that lead up to a bedroom, beneath which could only be the bathroom. It was cosy, but chic, and styled just to my taste, but it was freezing.

"Oh my gosh," I said, huddling under my jacket. "Nice place - does it have heating?"

He waved a hand towards the fireplace.

"Just the old fashioned way, unfortunately. No central heating here. Maybe one day I can convince the owners to install something better. There's new owners now, so maybe I have a shot."

"Oh, that's fine, the fireplace looks great," I said, trying to sound surprised. "Um, Dan," I asked - it wasn't his real name, but it was the one he gave me. "Do you have a bathroom I could use?". The 'um' was deliberate; sprinkled into the sentence to add a touch of naivety. People like him loved that shit.

"Yeah, just down there on your left," he said gently, gesturing towards the far end of the cabin. "Let me fix you a drink - whatcha want?"

"Mmm, oh, um... what do you have?"

He smiled and, had I not known what he was, I may have even found it charming.

"I'll surprise you."

I doubt it, he only has brandy. I nodded shyly and walked towards the bathroom.

I'm coming home.

When I returned, he was sitting on the sofa with two drinks on the coffee table, and the fireplace was lit. We sat on the couch for a while, making small talk while the flames crackled spontaneously, casting auburn waves of colour over our faces. I wonder if this is where he did it.

"So... You rent this place out in the winter, yeah? Where are you from though? Where do you spend the rest of your time?". I reached for one of the glasses and took a fake sip, not trusting what was in it. It was brandy. He followed suit, only his sip was real.

"London mostly. A few other places too depending on where work takes me, but mostly London. The agency's main offices are there." I was bored, but we needed to talk about something. "Where's home for you? You local?"

"Kind of. I was born here, but home has always been wherever Alice was, you know? So I guess I kind of followed her around wherever she'd go."

"That's cute. Does make you sound like a lost puppy though," he smirked.

I smiled back in surrender, shrugged and took another fake sip of my drink. With every one, it became more obvious that I wasn't actually drinking anything, and it was just a matter of time before he noticed.

"Yeah maybe... But she was worth following around. Whenever I'd have a bad day, she'd come over with a bottle of wine and we'd make macaroni cheese. We'd dance around the kitchen and sing to Billy Joel songs. She was an angel that girl." He was staring at me with an intense gaze, and I averted my eyes for a moment, pretending to find the fireplace particularly interesting.

"Was?"

I felt a pinch on my neck and my body went limp. The glass of brandy crashed to the floor, spilling over the carpet by my feet. Shit, he's got me.

I'm coming home.

"You look just like her, you know?" he said as he lay my body down on the floor and threw the empty syringe aside, but this time he wasn't being charming. His voice was colder, harsher, like a wolf snarling at its prey. "Did you think I wouldn't notice? I remember what all of them look like. Every face, every name, every scream and every... begging word. You have the same beautiful red hair as her."

His blurry figure loomed over me, smiling with victory, as he took a large gulp of his brandy. But his gloating was short lasted. The smug was washed from his face as he staggered on the carpet, dropping the glass not far from where mine lay, and collapsing to his knees.

"What did...?" he was on the floor laying beside me before he even finished his sentence.

"Got you." I smiled weakly.

His face was pale and confused. Still handsome, I'll admit, but confused.

"How...?"

"Why did you do it?" I asked, weakly turning my head to face him and deliberately ignoring his question. In my own way, I already knew the answer. I'd stalked him for two years now. I knew every little secret, every rotten truth. He wanted to teach the world a lesson. To show them the consequences of not giving an overprivileged, narcissistic, sociopath exactly what he wanted. He didn't respond to my question either, and instead just glared at me with rage, half paralysed on the floor. "How many, Calum? How many did you kill?”

“One too few,” he snapped in frustration, and then his voice became soft again as he tried to regain control. "One of two things will happen tonight, Sarah." He paused a moment to try to adjust his posture and catch a breath, then continued, slowly. "The first is that you beat me - you recover first, and you call the police. They arrest me, and I can finally be at peace. My name will be in the history books for centuries to come - like a modern Jack the Ripper..." He trailed off and his eyes glowed with excitement. Sickening. "The second, which I believe is more likely, is that I recover before you and, well, from what I've gathered, I guess you know what happens then. Either way - I win."

It was sickening to think that he found comfort in the belief that his horrific deeds would amount to something. But they wouldn't, because I bought the cabin last spring. I had the keys, which made it easy to spike his brandy while he was out. It also meant I could swap the electric stovetop for a gas one in the summer while he was away - those are always prone to accidents.

"I think you missed the third option," I taunted with a smile spread across my lips. I could see the discomfort on his face again. He wasn't used to not being in control, and the feeling was exhilarating for me.

"Why are you smiling?" he hissed.

"When I came back from the bathroom, I flicked the gas stove on. I doubt either of us will have recovered before it reaches the fireplace." A wave of dizziness caused my eyes to roll back and I almost went under. Not yet. A few seconds later I snapped myself out of it and continued. "They'll find our bodies... after a date gone wrong, but nobody... nobody will ever know you killed those girls. You'll die a no one." A loud POP emanated from the fire place, interrupting my slurs as if to threaten us. "Nobody will be at your funeral, Calum," I continued somewhat drunkenly. "People won't even turn up to spit on your grave, because nobody will know who you were. Everything you've done will be forgotten - you're no one, and that is why I'm smiling."

That pissed him off.

"So that's it? You're just gonna burn us? Who's going to miss you though!? You have nobody left. Your funeral will be just as empty as mine."

I thought for a moment. He was right, but it didn’t matter. Nothing could dull my flame now. I had him.

"Maybe, but it doesn't matter anymore - because I'm coming home."

And with that, I gave him one last sly smile before the gas reached the fireplace. His face was red with rage, and he yelled furiously, slurring his words and helplessly trying to move with small, pathetic motions, but it was too late. It started with a deep rumbling, like thunder, followed by a flash of light before the flames flowed over us. As the heat waves consumed our bodies, he screamed with agony and rabid frustration, but I was still smiling.

I smiled because I could see Alice's face again. She welcomed me with open arms. We made macaroni cheese, and she took my hand as we danced around the kitchen singing to Billy Joel.

I'm home.