• Prologue
    I followed her down Main Street and peeked through the window as she browsed through clothes in the little boutique. Her long black hair flowed gently down to the middle of her back, her red highlights shining under the street lamps. Her strange, entrancing ruby-like eyes glowed with excitement whenever her friend tried on something that looked remotely good on her. She was extremely beautiful, especially for her age, and every time I watched her go out with her friends, she always outshone them, even when wearing a plain t-shirt with jeans. Tonight she wore tall black boots, a Mischief t-shirt, and the shortest of miniskirts, which showed off her long, slender, attractive legs. I wasn't a fan of the miniskirt. Not because it didn't look good, no. It looked wonderful on her. But because every male's head turned when she walked by, and their attention was not focused on an appropriate part of her body. I could tell she was aware of the effect she had over men, but I don't think she realized that the degree of that effect was in the extreme, and that it could cost her her life.
    I watched her for another half hour before she and the two lesbian girls walked out of the boutique and headed further down the street toward the small cafe. I followed, hoping she wouldn't notice that I had just been watching her through the window. I decided to wait for a few minutes outside of the cafe for her and her friends to settle down.
    After thirteen years of watching, I would finally make my move.