Chapter 2: This is the Plot! (Layla) - Once I Find You

“Oh my god! Crys, look!” I exclaim as I shove my phone almost in her face. I can’t help it—everyone online is talking about the newest killing last night in Rio Vista. I say it a bit too loud, and everyone in the diner turns. I awkwardly smile at them and turn back to Crystal.

“Another?”

“Well, he takes a few days off sometimes, but usually never more than a week. I mean, there’s a lot of people to get to, so he has to be diligent.” I’m sure my smile is a mile wide as I bring the phone back to my lap, looking down at the screen.

Crystal sighs. “Layla…don’t you think it’s time to try to move on? You worry me with how obsessed you are over this guy.”

“Why? There’s no harm in looking up to someone. I mean, he saved me, Crys, he’s like my hero. How can I move on from that?”

“I know babe, but…” She sighs again as she turns to me seriously. “I just don’t think this is healthy. I mean you’re constantly online, your whole life has just been totally taken over by this guy. I’m just worried you’re losing the plot.”

“Losing the plot? This is the plot!”

“Yes, okay, he saved you. Now, you should be living your life to the fullest. You should be out, dating, and letting me drag you to the club with me! Your birthday is soon and you can finally legally drink, and you have to let loose a little. Please, or I might have you committed to a ward.”

“I have tried. I just…feel yucky whenever I talk to guys. I mean, they’re so flirty and always trying to be so charming, and then they think if you like them, they try to touch you more and it just freaks me out a little.” I sigh as I lock my phone and set it down on the table.

I’m not sure what it is. I think whatever he did to me broke me forever. I feel unable to be comfortable around guys in a romantic way. Moreover, I just don’t feel it. You know…it?

“I know, and maybe it would be good if I introduce you to someone instead? Someone I know, and maybe I can tell him that he shouldn’t⁠—”

“No, Crys, I just don’t know. I really don’t want to meet anyone right now. Can’t we just go out, just us? I promise I'll try to let loose.”

The waitress interrupts us, setting down our plates before we dig in. I’m thankful for the few moments of peace so I can think more about everything. I really do want to go out and have fun with Crystal. I just don’t like clubs or bars, because whenever you go out, men come from the shadows and immediately try to dance with you or talk with you. It just makes me uncomfortable. I know Crystal loves it though, and I’m happy she gets to enjoy things like that freely. I wish I was normal too.

Ever since…that, I just can’t feel much in that department. I have my therapist and she’s great, but no matter what, when it comes to it…nothing.

“Earth to Layla,” Crystal says, waving her hand in front of me.

“Sorry. I swear I’ll go and be excited.”

“Babe, I don’t want you to pretend to be excited, okay? It’s your birthday. I just think…maybe if you found someone you kind of like⁠—”

“Crys, I⁠—”

“No, wait, hear me out first. If you found someone you even just have a fraction of attraction for, maybe you can push yourself a little. I think if you just did something, anything, kissing even, you might feel relief after. You know? Like, it’s worse in your head and you just need to let it out so you can try to physically move on.”

I get what she means…and maybe she’s right. But there’s only one person I’ve ever even felt a fraction of attraction to. But if I tell her that, she’ll be even more worried about my obsession as she calls it.

“If I promise to discuss it with my therapist, can we drop it for now? I appreciate you trying to help me, it's just complicated.”

“I know it is, I just want what’s best for you. You deserve it.”

I nod with a smile. I love Crystal, even though I know she doesn’t fully understand how I feel…it isn’t her fault. She’s lucky that she doesn’t understand.

* * *

When we finish eating, we leave our favorite little diner and part ways, and I get on the bus and head home.

Well, maybe home is a strong word for it.

It’s a little rundown studio apartment downtown. It’s…not ideal. But it’s what I have, and I need to be thankful for the things I have.

I sigh as I walk in through the broken metal door of the lobby—I thought the landlord said they’d fix it. I make my way up the two flights of stairs, shaking my hair a bit to get the lasting wetness from the rain outside off before I drip onto the floor of my apartment.

“Oh!” I exclaim as I pick up the package in front of my door.

They’re here!

More books to choose from.

Look up Lokepub on Google and find a novel you like.

I excitedly unlock the door and close it behind me, making sure I lock the deadbolts. I immediately rip into it, first picking up the beautiful pink and blue ombré vibrator I ordered. It’s the first time I’ve ever bought myself a sex toy…at the recommendation of my therapist. I set it down and pick up the matching dildo with a suction cup at the other end. Jesus. I guess…it’s bigger than I expected. But it’s okay, baby steps. We’ll get to that one once I master the little vibrator.

I was nervous, but I really am excited to try it all for the first time.

Eventually. Maybe soon.

I’m not sure how to even begin, I only know that lately I’ve been feeling it. A little. When I think about the amazing man who saved me; who got justice for me. Something about him makes me feel something deep inside that I’ve never had the chance to before.

And I want to be a normal girl. Woman. Because women get to enjoy sex, enjoy fun with other people, and they get to do it on their own terms.

After everything that happened to me, I’ve never wanted sex. I’ve never even touched myself. Everything to do with sex is just a giant block in my brain that never rattles. I found it hard to imagine how anyone could like it, how it could take over their minds so much that they let it control how they act.

It scares me a little, because what if I become like that if I have sex now? What if I’m as fucked up as he was? He practically raised me. Maybe that weighs on me too.

But I’m working on something Crystal recommended. She calls it, “Saying fuck it, and doing whatever comes to my mind, even if it scares me.” So, I’m going to do new things. At my own pace, and by myself.

And now, that includes attempting to masturbate.

I take my new toys and put them in the drawer of my nightstand.

Eh.

I take them back out and place them on top of my nightstand, take a step back, and smile. There. Maybe it’s weird to be this excited, but I can’t help feeling a sense of accomplishment just being a regular woman who owns toys. Who has them on her nightstand.

I skip a few steps away to my kitchen, humming to myself as I make some instant ramen and grab a diet cola. I hop onto the couch, setting my things up on the coffee table and flicking on the television. I could use a good reality show to put on in the background while I continue my research.

I may not be telling Crystal everything. I seriously can’t, because I believe her when she says she’ll have me committed.

And…okay. Maybe I’m a little too into The Hangman. But calling it an obsession just isn’t fair. How can you not be into someone like him?

He’s spent the last few years taking out evil men, the ones like my uncle. I had heard of the killings of course, everyone did, because a serial killer on the loose is going to get lots of coverage. But regular people shrug their shoulders and move on. I did too.

That was until I saw the news last year. Until I saw my uncle’s face on the screen in front of me, labelled as the latest victim of The Hangman. I thought I must have been dreaming. I felt like this huge weight had been taken off my shoulders and I needed to understand more about the killer; about everything he does.

I wasn’t surprised when I found all the online forums and posting boards about him. I always knew people were super into true crime—there are always some fun documentaries everyone ends up watching and gets hooked into the community. But this was personal to me, and I needed to know what everyone else knew about him.

I need to know him.

To meet him.

To thank him.

I did everything I was supposed to do. I told my family. I told the police. I filed charges. I told my story to everyone. My mother took her brother’s side of course, and that whole side of my family shut me out. After years of being abused, I needed them. I needed someone. I was barely sixteen, and my own mother kicked me out.

The public attorney told me that I’d have a hard time in court because I had no real proof, and it might be better for me to drop the case and cut ties with my family. But that felt so wrong to me. How could I let myself go unheard all over again? What if he did it to another girl? I wanted to fight, to be strong, and show him that I wouldn’t let him keep me the meek, quiet girl he tried to make me.

Facing him in court was daunting. No one came to support me, but he came with so many character witnesses. Even though he had been held by police on suspicion of raping me, the judge said that it just wasn’t enough to prove he had done it.

I was heartbroken. I would stare at the case status on the court’s public page and cry, trying to think of what I should do. I had no choice but to give up. I had let it go on for so many years, and it was just too late. But I don’t let myself play the “maybe” game anymore.

Then as if to answer all my prayers, an angel sent him to me. Somehow, someone had noticed me. Someone had heard me. He must be looking through public court records to choose his victims, and he chose mine.

He saw mine, and he saw that I had no justice. He fought for me, and no one has ever done that before.

So…okay. Maybe I’m a little obsessed. But I know I need him. I know someone like him could fix me. For the first time in my entire life, I wanted a man.