Who Wrote Killing Stalking Novels & Stories

She was eavesdropping and she heard us. ‘Oh! My God! I can’t imagine how many people on this block of flats know.’ ‘No, no. She didn’t tell anyone. I promise. I stopped her before she could run to Maureen’s place.’ ‘Did you have to kill her? Have you suddenly developed some killer instinct? What the hell is wrong with you?’ ‘Billy how could you say that? It was an accident.’ ‘What do you expect me to think? You seem to be having a knack for killing nowadays.’

Alissa walked to her dorm room and she lay on her bed. Her heart calmed a bit and she couldn't believe that had just happened. She tried not to panic at all, but she was. So many questions swirled in her head. What did he mean when he said that he would not let her off easily next time? Why did she have to fall? Did he now know that she was the one who had stalked him? Alissa tossed and turned until she fell eventually fell asleep. Alissa's eyes slowly opened, and she found that there was a lot of light streaming in, which meant that she had slept past afternoon.

He was likely under the influence of alcohol. “Second, I've been a damned possessive, obsessive bastard. I always want him by my side and his eyes on me. Which was why I manipulated him any chance I got." “Oh,” Mary whispered, and I didn't doubt the revelation shocked her. Who wouldn't be? It wasn't every day you heard about your boss stalking and manipulating his husband. “Third,” Stein kept going, hiccuping between words. “I slit my wrists when he tried leaving me and then hurt him.”

"Then answer it." "I can't." "Then go." The words came out harder than he meant them. She flinched. He didn't take them back. "If you can't be in this, then go. But don't come back. I can't keep doing this. I can't keep—" He stopped. His voice was barely a whisper. "I can't keep watching you leave." She stood up. Her legs were still shaking. She looked at him—shoulders hunched, hand clenched against his mouth. He looked less like a killer and more like a man who was about to fall apart.

"Ma'am, stand down. Cooperate with the investigation." Mom’s hand hung in the air, useless. She whirled around to face Dad, desperation bleeding into her voice. "She’s the one who mixed them up, right? You saw it! It wasn't me! I didn't kill her!" Dad didn't even look at her. His vacant eyes were locked entirely on the closet door panel. On those little black thumbprints. Row after row. The detective ordered the property manager to pull up the apartment's security feeds. The smart camera mounted on the living room ceiling was installed by Dad just before Christmas.

"I’m sorry? That sounds a bit dramatic, don't you think?" "Don't play dumb," Jovan interrupted. His voice was low, a dangerous rumble that made Chloe flinch. He didn't look away from her, his dark eyes boring into hers like twin barrels of a gun. "Do you know an Archer Schuyler?" Chloe tilted her head, the picture of practiced innocence. "Archer? The name sounds familiar. Oh, wait. Was that the stalker who caused the scene yesterday? Why would I know him, Jovan?" She shot me a look of pure, unadulterated vitriol.

“Yo, what the fuck is this, Brix?” I aim the gun below his waist, knowing that anything above is classified as attempted murder, and I'm not trying to take a charge for that. “I fucking warned you to stay the fuck out of my shit with my little bird, didn't I?” “She was bound to find out that you were fucking stalking her. All I fucking did was speed up the heartbreak.” “Oh, you think this shit is funny?” Aiming at his knee, I fire my gun and watch him collapse to the pavement, hollering at the top of his lungs as the bullet pierces right through his flesh.

Iliana’s POV: My eyes snapped open. A scream erupted in the air. It wasn’t his. It was mine. He, on the other hand, was utterly and eerily silent. Not even a scream, not even a hiss. He was standing still as if the last few minutes never happened. I had stabbed him. I had stabbed my stalker. Oh God, what the fuck did I do. Why did I do it? How could I kill a living being?

" His slimy cum is all over the panties. I feel so disgusted and violated." Elijah stiffened, and through tear-filled eyes, I looked at him. My voice was blurry but I could make out the anger in his face. I don't think I've ever seen him this angry. "He fucking did what? That bastard is walking dead. I'm going to kill him with my bare hands, the moment I get my hands on him, he's dead." I could see that Elijah was not joking and something deep down told me that Elijah had killed before and he wouldn't find it different to kill the stalker. Instead of being terrified of him, I felt comforted, safe, and weirdly turned on.

These actions cannot be explained, Navpreet,’ said the inspector gloomily, casting an eye on the mountains. The sub-inspector gave a stiff nod and carefully studied the inspector who seemed to be lost in contemplation. ‘From what I have seen, murders are of two types,’ said the inspector, the tips of his fingers coming together. ‘First are the unplanned ones, committed by people who were suffocated in some way by the acts of the would-be victims. When they see an opportunity, their fear is eclipsed by the pain they have suffered and they strike.’