Does he know who I am?

There's no way, though, right? How on earth could he have possibly figured that out? I've always been so fucking careful, so good at covering my tracks and ensuring I had no witnesses. How could this guy possibly know who I am, let alone who Willow is? Could it have been a coincidence?

No. There's absolutely no way. Willow had to have lost the necklace at the store, because she tore apart the basement looking for it. So, for him to have gotten it, he would've had to have been following her. Also, his victim was seventeen. The same age as Willow. Not to mention, very high profile, just like Willow, although it's quite unlikely he could know her real identity.

The girl also looks similar to Willow, though not by much. It's all scarily familiar, and I can't breathe. Looking down at this girl, I can't... I can't help the images that flash through my mind of Willow in the same situation.

Willow, dissected. Willow, tortured. Willow, unrecognizable.

It all causes an emotion I've never felt before, and therefore can't identify. It translates mostly into rage, but I'm unsettled. This man has been following Willow, which means he likely knows who I am. Her necklace on this body must've been some sort of warning, right?

She must be his next target, or something along those lines. That's... that concept... I can't handle it. I cannot handle something like this happening to Willow, all because of me. I've never felt this much in my life, what I'm experiencing right now. The rage, the hatred, the fear. I do not appreciate everything that has been getting to me lately, but this takes the cake.

He knows about Willow. So, he probably knows about the storage facility. It's impossible he'd be able to get in... probably, but still. She has a tendency to leave and not always tell me.

I know what I have to do.

The autopsy is excruciating, and Kristy is visibly shaken by it all. By the time we finish everything, it's about midnight, but there does happen to be one good thing that comes out of it:

DNA.

We are able to find some. I figured that if he kept on sexually assaulting his victims, we would eventually get something, and despite how horrible it all is... we finally did. The way in which we had to acquire it makes me want to burn the city to the ground, but maybe it's a step to keeping it from happening to another innocent girl.

Anyway, I get out of there at about midnight—thankful I get to leave early after coming in early, since that's not always the case. As soon as I'm out of there, I am heading straight to the facility, praying I'll find Willow safe and sound.

Fortunately, I do.

Unfortunately, she will not be happy with me.

As soon as I step through the door, I find Willow lounging in her beanbag chair, on her phone. She glances up at my entrance, then back down at her phone, but I don't stand around. Immediately, I'm walking toward her.

"Pack your things, you're moving into my apartment."

Willow immediately looks up, putting the device down. I've never seen her do that so fast, and she's giving me a disbelieving look. "What?"

"You heard me," I tell her, already gathering up a few cardboard boxes for her to put her things in. I'm not wasting any time with this, I need Willow where I can protect her, not locked in a storage facility a mile away.

I have no idea if the copycat has the capability to get in here, but that doesn't really matter, because Willow still comes and goes as she pleases. I'm not here often enough to feel comfortable with her living so far away. Also, if she's living with me, Dex is right there. I have myself, who can pretty much win any fight as long as I have a knife on me—which I always do—and a cop across the hallway. She will be much safer.

This is non-negotiable, and even though she will absolutely try to negotiate it, I'm not budging. I'm going to tell her exactly why, too, because I need her to listen, and she won't do that without full disclosure.

I know her well, and she's stubborn.

"Why? I like it here."

I know she does, for whatever reason. She enjoys living in the cold basement, amongst various body parts and organs and such, because she's weird. There's something wrong with her, just like there's something wrong with me, and it's brought us together for the past five years.

"The copycat threatened you," I tell her, and she predictably freezes. "He put your necklace on a corpse we found today. He's been watching you, and he probably knows who I am, somehow. I need you where you're safe, and that's not here."

"My necklace?"

"Yes.

I feel Willow's eyes on me as I set up the boxes, before she sighs a moment later. "This is lame."

"Guess what's more lame?"

"Being dissected?"

"Yep."

She doesn't know that the copycat does far more than that. I will give her the details in time, but for now, all she needs to know is that she's in serious danger and needs to listen to me.

"I'll be clearing out a room. Pack your things while I'm gone."

I need to get her bedroom situation in order. I do have a spare bedroom, but it has a lot of boxes and such in it. I'll have to at least clear out most of that if I want her to be comfortable. She reluctantly agrees to do so, and her reluctance is understandable since she's never done well with change.

Keeping Willow in her comfort zone isn't particularly high on my list of priorities right now, though. Keeping her safe is.

Unfortunately, when I'm back at my apartment and am faced with the sheer amount of work I'm about to have to do, I can't help the way my mood is brought down astronomically. Obviously I know I don't have a choice, but I'm still quite tired. I just worked an eight hour shift, and now I have to move a shit ton of boxes around. I do have one more spare room, but it's also almost full, and fitting all of this in there will be no easy task. I likely won't even be able to walk in it.

These are sacrifices I'm willing to make, however, which is why I don't hesitate before feeding Fluffy and getting to work. It's quite a lot of effort, and I'm only able to move one box to the other room before I'm sweating. What the fuck did I even put in these things? They're worse than dead bodies. Dead weight.

Wait, no. Books. They're full of books.

After the second box, I need a break, panting. Why do I have so many books? This is already fucking crazy, and is going to take me all goddamn night at this rate.

I'm contemplating making myself some coffee or something, as if that'll do much, when I hear a knock at my door. It takes a bit for me to work up the energy to actually answer it, and I try to ignore the surge of relief and instant improvement in my mood at the sight of Dex.

"Dex?" Is how I greet him, trying not to make it obvious how much I'm panting. He gives me a curious look.

"Yeah, uh, I heard a lot of noise, so I figured I'd check on you—are you okay?"

This is an understandable concern, and it takes a minute for me to fully catch my breath, although it's still kind of unsteady. "Yeah, just... moving stuff around. Clearing out a room."

This seems to pique Dex's interest, judging by the way his face lights up. He glances past me into my apartment, and I wipe the sweat off my forehead. I actually haven't even fully moved the two boxes I've handled so far into the actual room. They're right outside of it, and I hope he doesn't put it together.

Seriously, books are fucking heavy.

"Do you need help?"

"Yes," I answer before I can really think about it. I immediately purse my lips, feeling my face heat up at how quickly I said that. Sure, I definitely need help, because this is already so much work and I am sorely lacking in the upper body strength department. Why did I have to sound so eager, though?

Decari smiles. "Okay."

I turn around and lead him inside, hearing the door shut behind myself before the sound of Dex following me. As I lead him through my apartment, he asks, "why do you need an extra room?"

I glance at him over my shoulder, then forward again, wondering how I should respond to that. I obviously can't tell him anything close to the truth, but it wouldn't be a bad idea to notify him Willow is in danger. That way, he'd be much more prepared to protect her if needed. I have no idea how to describe the relationship we have, though. It's similar to parent-guardian, but I also see it as some kind of friendship. We're also kind of... coworkers, though, since she helps out so much with my killing.

Goddamn, I miss murder. I can't wait until all this cools down so I can focus on the important things.

"An old coworker is moving in," I notify him, before trying to think of a realistic and believable reason she'd be in danger. It comes to me within seconds, and I'm thankful my mind is actually working with me right now. "She broke up with her boyfriend. Wanna make sure she's safe."

"Well that's nice of you."

I just nod, unsure what else to say, and we reach the room a moment later. I have only removed two boxes from it, so it still looks quite full. This is going to be quite the task, since we have about ten more to go. "We basically just need to move all these boxes into the other room. They have books in them so they're... kind of heavy."

I see Dex nod from the corner of my eye, and I turn to find him giving me a reassuring smile. I find myself wondering, briefly, why he's so nice to me all the time. Despite how hard I try not to be, it's difficult for me to cover just how socially inept I am. There's no way he can't tell, but here he is. Kind as ever.

"How about I move the boxes to the room, and you organize them?" Dex supplies, and that's actually a great idea. That way, I'm not totally useless, but he's still doing most of the heavy lifting.

I enter the other room, and begin to drag the previous two boxes inside. I start with one, and situate it towards the corner, and then I do the same thing to the other. It takes me a couple minutes to get everything where I want it to be, and by the time I'm finished, I find that Dex already has four more waiting for me outside the room.

Well, that was fucking fast. How did he move four boxes in the same timeframe it took for me to do that same thing with two? Across a much shorter distance, at that.

I glance up at him, once I catch sight of the boxes waiting for me. I find him in the other room, as expected, and he's not dragging them like I was. He's carrying the boxes, which is actually faster and a lot less loud than what I'd been doing. I can't help but to stand there, somewhat fascinated, for a moment, before a loud noise snaps me out of it.

I jump when Decari drops a box right in front of me, next to the other four, and stare up at him in surprise.

He's looking down at me already, and there's something more to his expression. A pride, or an amusement possibly. It's hard to tell, but it's clear that he can tell how impressed I am. I instantly feel the need to cover up my amazement, not particularly keen on stroking his ego more than I already have throughout the entire time we've known each other.

It's strange. In the past, I've always had to put effort into showing emotion. Now I've found myself in the opposite situation: trying to hide my emotion. Hiding how fascinated by him I am, which is something I'd have never anticipated in a million years.

"Does that work for you?" Dex asks me, and I see that some sweat is beading on his forehead. That's the only sign of him being even slightly winded, however, and this entire thing is throwing me for a loop.

"Uh, yeah," I tell him dumbly, and he looks my face up and down, before locking his eyes with my own again. The proximity is kind of distracting, and I'm not used to being in situations like this. It seems like every interaction he and I have results in some serious introspection, feeling my world has been turned upside down. This is likely the reason for my next words. "You're strong."