Chapter 44 - Chapter 43

# Chapter 43
THE BRIDGE KILLER

Timing is everything. Timing is the sweet spot between your audience growing desensitised to your art and losing interest or forgetting about you. Leave it too long, and you fade from people's minds.

"Wait, you missed the turning. My street is that way."

I tighten my grip on the steering wheel and focus on the road. It was easy to gain her trust—much easier than the other women. A few smiles and she agreed to let me drive her home. I took a risk, approaching her in the library after I spotted the mustard scarf around her neck.

From behind, the resemblance was undeniable, with her scarf and dark hair—hair that admittedly held its natural curl where hers was straightened sleek. But it was similar enough that I couldn't look away. My cock lengthened in response, and I knew then that I needed to approach her. She had to be the one. I was pulled forward by magnetism and a force outside myself, steering me closer.

But she was wrong. Everything was wrong. She smelled different and gone were the sweet notes of vanilla and apples; replaced instead with a sharper flowery aroma.

Now, it's all I can smell in the car, and it annoys me enough to grind my teeth to dust while she grows more agitated by the second. If only she would shut up and let me drive us to our destination in peace.

"Stop the car right now. This is kidnapping!" Her voice is wrong too, lacking the same softness that she has. "Hayi, stop the car!" she shouts, trying to take control of the steering wheel.

My temper flares. I grab hold of her head and forcefully whack it against the door. Stunned, she slumps, whimpering under her breath.