Miss Polly had a Dolly (Emma Frost #2) by Willow Rose

hoodie in his suitcase and put it on. It still had a
couple of bloodstains on the sleeve, but they blended in well with the dark
color, he thought. No one would notice.
    Patrick then found his black gloves and
Balisong, his butterfly knife, and put it inside the pocket of the hoodie. He
covered his head and walked out into the hallway. He was alone in the elevator
going down. Once in the lobby he ducked his head and covered his face
completely while slipping out through the crowd towards the back exit of the
hotel. He was going out on foot this time.
    He heard the screaming teenagers outside the
front entrance every time the doors were opened and chuckled to himself as he
opened the back door and got out without anyone seeing him. He looked back to
make sure no one was following him and walked around the corner of the
building. He stood at a distance and watched the crowd chanting his name while
looking hopefully at the window of his hotel room. He had left the lights on to
make them believe he was still in there. It was the perfect alibi and worked
every time. No one suspected him since he wasn't even able to go out in the
streets without being seen and mobbed by fans. It was impossible.
    He felt superior in so many ways as he watched
his many fans from a distance. They were hollering his name, like he was some
freaking god or something. It was amazing. Maybe he was a god, maybe he did
have superpowers… It felt like it sometimes. Being able to determine whether or
not someone should live. It was the greatest feeling in the world. Nothing
would beat it—ever.
    Patrick nodded slowly to himself, taking all the
cheering and applauding in. This was his, this was him, he had done this, he made things happen.
    And now he was going to make something else
happen. Now he was going to go out and give the people something new to talk
about.
    Patrick turned his back on the crowd and started
walking slowly to stay low, when suddenly two young girls walked towards him on
the sidewalk. Patrick bowed his head slightly and put his hands in the pockets
trying to avoid letting them see him. They were giggling and chatting along as
they walked. Patrick hated giggling girls most of all. He loathed their happy
small lives where nothing bad ever happened. It made his skin crawl and it made
him want to make something bad happen to them. Make them feel reality, real
life. The brutality of nature. All these girls lived secure, protected lives
and he hated them for it.
    "Is that…?" one of the girls pulled
her friend's jacket.
    "Do you think…?" the other one said.
    They came closer and Patrick gripped the knife
in his hand while thinking this was a bad place. Someone would see them there.
    "Yes it is…" the first one said again
while bending slightly to see Patrick's face. "It is him. It's Patrick!"
    Patrick lifted his head and made a sign for them
to keep it quiet. They seemed to understand. "Thanks guys," he said.
"I needed a little privacy, you see."
    He looked into their faces and saw the
excitement in their eyes. They both looked like they could burst.
    "Can we have your autograph?" one of
them asked.
    Patrick smiled and grabbed the pen. He sighed her
arm. The other girl seemed a little more cautious. Patrick liked that. "Do
you want my autograph too, pretty girl?" he asked.
    The girl smiled and before she could answer
Patrick had sighed her arm. "Say, you're really beautiful," he said
and grabbed her chin. "What's your name?"
    She blushed and replied, "Maya."
    "Well hello, Maya." Patrick said
smiling. Then he leaned over and whispered in her ear. "I really like you,
Maya. I want to get to know you. Meet me Monday night at the show. I'll put
your name on the list. Come backstage. But don't tell anyone. " He looked
deep into her eyes. Her shy eyes avoided his. "Promise me?" he said
and held her hand. Then he kissed it on the top.
    "I promise," she answered with the
most despicable sweet little voice. Oh how Patrick loathed everything