Where We Found Our Home by Natasha Bishop

 

Eddie

Do you see what you’ve made me do, doll?

You make it so easy.

I could’ve picked you off on your way to the airport with those idiots, but I decided to follow your firefighter instead. I could’ve easily ended him with one bullet to the head. He’s lucky I went for the tire.

I’ve grown tired of our game, doll. You’re not taking me seriously enough. Do you know how it makes my blood boil watching all these fucking assholes march into that coffee shop to “protect” you from me? How fucking ridiculous. There’s the firefighter, the younger version of the firefighter, the Magnum P.I. wannabe, the suit, and the burly angry one. Then there’s the bartender, the coffee shop owner, and even her fucking daughter. They all waltz in there every day just to keep you in their sights. They’re worse than the bitches you left at home.

How does it feel? To know that you’ve put these people you claim to care about in my crosshairs. You sit on your high horse, but you’re the most selfish person I’ve ever encountered. I told you what would happen if your friends got in my way. And look at you now. Your circle’s even larger now. Their blood will be on your hands. I hope you choke on it.

I hope you read the message I left for you. Our time is coming.