To history, I am nothing: a memory, the last remnant of another criminal fallen to justice. Yet to the people hurt most by the man whom I embodied, I am everything. Just like Sami was and is everything to me. Sami…my only need and desire.

Although edging toward her forties, she has lost the bloom of her youth, she still radiates the purity and gentility that first fascinated me. Today she sits on her couch, looking through a box of old letters. She stops to read one from her late fiancé, delicately holding the paper's edge, tracing the words with a slender finger. The memory of her pathetic beau rushes to Sami, unwittingly signaling me to follow. A pitiful man I easily did away with years ago, he cannot remain with her for long.

Why? He doesn't have the power over her that I do. I push him away as I advance. Once again, Sami is the poor ingénue and I her ruthless admirer. Only this time, I need not painstakingly approach her with verbal seduction. I grasp her, and her innocence trembles at my touch. Her body begins to entwine with my intangible presence.

She desperately attempts to think of something else, only to amuse me with her mental struggle. Assured that she is unable to fight me alone, I draw closer to her, pressing kisses of terror into her consciousness. Her milky skin soft beneath my flimsy fingertips; her dark eyes looking into my own but seeing nothing; her rosy lips that I cover with my lie-spewing mouth; her once-tender psyche displaying unseen scabs for me to admire. All of Sami. Mine for the moment.

Tears form in her eyes. I lap them up.

In an onslaught of her emotions, I work my way into Sami's mind. I swirl it with images of the world I reveled in during my physical life. Blood. Cruelty. Fear. Oh yes, her fear. Luscious and limitless, her terror nourishes me. I press harder, and my prize grips the fabric of her sofa, slightly hunched over, shaking, defenseless. Just the way I like her.

Just then, the door swings open and a teenage girl bounds into the room. "Hey, mom!" calls the smiling girl. I tear away, but not without satiation.

"Angel!" Sami runs to embrace her adoptive daughter. As I withdraw, I watch her briskly wipe her eyes, as if doing so could hide her emotion from Angel. I retreat, but I don't surrender. I linger between her past and present because I know that her next moment of vulnerability will be my next time of pleasure. It will come. It has to; I'm unforgettable.