Venti Vanilla - Story of a murderer
I’m at my work place. It is a dingy café. The location is terrible, and the building is falling apart but if you are daring enough to come inside despite the appearance, we served some of the best coffee in town. I anxiously tapped my fingernails against the counter making annoying clicking sounds. She’ll be here I thought to myself. At exactly 8AM every morning, she came into this dingy café. Why couldn’t time past by faster? I adjusted the collar of my work shirt and tousled my hair in the hopes of making myself appear more presentable. I caught a faint glimpse of myself in the reflection of the store windows. I was by no means ugly or attractive. The truth is that there is nothing remarkable about me. My face was average in every aspect. I’m the type of person you meet on a daily basis, yet I don’t stand out enough to be remembered. Ding. I heard the bells lightly jingle as someone opened the door, letting in a cool wisp of November air. It was her.
She walked gracefully up to the counter, tossing her car keys lightly into her vintage looking bag. I examined her, appreciating every little detail about her while I still had the chance. She was wearing her favorite scarf, I noticed as she has worn it a few times now. I noticed also that she was wearing what appeared to be a new sweater, buttoned up improperly—they were slanted. I had no idea who this woman is. She is a regular customer here, and in the few months that I’ve been working at this café, she has never once failed to show up at exactly 8AM for her favorite drink. Her beauty and kindness always cheers me up, making her become my favorite customer. I was suddenly snapped back into reality when she said;
“I’ll get a…”
Venti Vanilla Frappe I thought to myself with a little smile. She orders the same thing every time she comes here. Although she made an effort to order something new; she would always go back to her favorite drink.
“Venti Vanilla Frappe.” She finally said with a little smile, pulling out her worn leather wallet and handing me the exact amount before I told her the price. I immediately went to work making her Frappe. This little transaction took place in about 3 minutes. It was these 3 seemingly insignificant minutes however that helped me to get out of bed every morning. I handed her her drink and gave her my biggest smile.
“Thank you, come again soon.” I would tell her.
She took the drink in her hand, “I definitely will.” She says politely while exiting the café.
It was a couple weeks ago, but I don’t know exactly when it happened. I decided that seeing her come into this café wasn’t enough. On a day when I wasn’t working, I parked my car in a discreet location near the café and waited. She arrived at exactly 8AM like every other day; she ordered her favorite drink, like every other day. What she didn’t know was that I would be watching her, and following her. Throughout the day, she would go to the hospital to visit her sick mother. Afterwards she goes to her afternoon classes at a nearby university. She then goes out to lunch with a couple close friends. I enviously watched her giggling with her friends, wishing it was me in their place. She works at a local boutique for the rest of the day, and gets off at a little past 10AM.
I followed her home to her apartment where she lives alone. It was neither big nor small, but spacious and appeared new. I made sure to keep my distance, knowing however that she wouldn’t be observant enough to notice she was being followed. I never saw myself as a stalker. Never. I was merely a man who was infatuated with a beautiful woman. Often times, I would imagine myself married to her and that this apartment was where we lived together. Every morning when I left for work, she would be at the door waiting to give me a good bye kiss and see me off. I decided one day that she needed to know of my presence. She needed to know that I was there for her, so I decided to send her a present. When she left for her art classes one morning, I slipped a small white envelope into her mailbox and waited anxiously for her to return. I wanted to see her reaction.
Before going to visit her mother at the hospital, she would return home to drop off her things. As she exited the building, she paused and realized that she hadn’t checked her mailbox earlier that morning. She went to check her mail, seeing just regular letters; advertisements and college brochures when something caught her eye. It was a random letter. She flipped it over searching for a return address or any writing but the envelope was completely blank. She neatly tore open the envelope. Something small and shiny, reflecting the sunlight dropped to the floor. It was a single razor blade. I watched with a smile on my face as her eyes grew wise. Panicking, she quickly looked around wondering if she was being watched. She wouldn’t fine me; not from where I was hiding. I giggled to myself watching her drop the now empty envelope and running off into the safety of her car.
This soon became a regular routine. I would tag along with her on her morning errands and await for her return that night. One week, she would return home to find her apartment door left wide open. She would enter the apartment and slowly walk around checking all the rooms, relieved that nothing appeared to be missing. I would watch her carefully, my face expressionless as I wonder to myself what she will do next whilst caressing her hairbrush in my hands. I held it under my nose and deeply inhaled the faint scent of her hair and the shampoo she uses. She wouldn’t know her hairbrush was missing, I knew, until the next morning when she sat down to groom her hair.
This continued on for a couple months. I would continue sending her creative presents. Sometimes, they were photos of her running her errands, and other times they were locks of her hair or snapshots of her sleeping. Her response to my presents were always entertaining to watch. At first, she was freaked out; then she became angry. She would yell, demanding the person to show themselves. Eventually, she became afraid and slowly withdrew from the world and kept to herself.
One day, I came to the conclusion that she had to be mine. I realized this when her trips to the café suddenly stopped because she had become too paranoid to go out to any place besides the hospital and her work. This deeply hurt me, as she told me she would be back. And so I planned out what I would do next, being oh-so-careful as to not get caught.
I carried out this plan when she was returning home from work one night. She had become frightened, knowing someone had been following her for months now. She always looked over her shoulders, her eyes darting back and forth making sure no one was behind her. I however, decided to take the direct approach since I had become tired of hiding. I chose to approach her straight on. She noticed someone approaching her from the front, as she was nearing the entry of her apartment. She was a little cautious but calmed down once she realized it was me. She recognized me from the café and was relieved to see a familiar face. She even smiled at me as I came close. Her eyes grew wide as I grabbed her, muffling her mouth with my hand; and the other binding her arms behind her. It was easy to overtake her, as she was a rather small girl and was no match for my strength. Her cries for help were futile as I knew what I was doing. I silently dragged her inside her apartment gently telling her to calm down while brushing tears from her cheeks.
That was the last time anyone saw her. I had disappeared as well. They talked about us on the news, our faces appeared in newspapers and lost ads. People searched everywhere for us but eventually abandoned hope after months had past with no luck. Some thought we ran off together; others thought we had been kidnapped or killed. No one however, knows what really happened. All I can tell you now is that every morning at exactly 8AM she still gets her favorite Venti Vanilla Frappe. I would make it for her myself, and personally feed it to her cold grey lips while giving her my biggest smile.
“Thank you, come again soon.” I would tell her.
