It was as if an ice pick had been driven into his skull when Emily laughed. Ted couldn’t stand her voice—that thin, squeaky sound. It drove him crazy. Her laughter, without fail, triggered suicidal thoughts. It reminded him of every woman who had ever mocked him. And Emily laughed a lot.
He took his sleeping pill, lay down, and impatiently waited for it to take effect. He didn’t even try to sleep without medication anymore because whenever he did, he would dream of Emily—of her looking at him and smiling, and immediately, he’d feel a chill run through him. And his nerves would flare up. But with the pill, he didn’t dream.
He couldn’t remember exactly when things had gone wrong. More precisely, he couldn’t recall when they had last been good. When his days weren’t filled with endless hours of seething anger, or when he wasn’t spending his time finding faults in every single person around him.
Emily had burst into his life like a bomb—her blonde curls, her voice, and her laughter. To Ted, it wasn’t natural for someone to always be in a good mood. That simply wasn’t normal. If someone can’t at least occasionally feel sadness or real pain, something is seriously wrong. For Ted, anger and frustration were part of everyday life. Every day brought an argument with some neighbor—whether about an improperly trimmed hedge or the reckless use of the shared pool. Every other day, he would give someone a thorough dressing down, whether at the gas station or the supermarket. He loved reporting illegally parked cars and late-night noise. Ted believed that by trying to maintain order, he was fulfilling some kind of mission. He thought he was making the world a better place, even though everyone in it annoyed him.
When Kate broke up with him, she screamed, “Go to hell, you psycho bastard!”
Ted didn’t say anything, enduring the outburst with a stone-faced expression. That night, he hacked her social media accounts and posted vulgar videos and pictures in her name. He even managed to get her fired from her job—a job Ted didn’t think she was suited for anyway. In reality, he was just helping her rethink her life. With nerves like hers, Kate couldn’t seriously think she belonged in a preschool.
Ted, however, had a hobby that excited him: testing people, finding their weaknesses. It gave him a strange thrill. He tried to get to know as many people as possible, infiltrating different social circles and observing them. Then came the anonymous reports and clever takedowns. His favorite part was when his victim would complain to him about the trouble they were in.
Ted didn’t care that people hated him. He didn’t even notice it. He didn’t crave love or recognition. He wanted control, dominance. He needed victims, and there were always plenty of them. The fact that women didn’t want him upset him occasionally, but he made do with what he could buy. Besides, he couldn’t tolerate company for long periods anyway. After a few hours, the presence of others almost physically pained him. Their voices hurt his ears, their behavior and words irritated his mind. He recoiled from the scent of their perfume and the detergent that clung to their clothes.
For Emily, the whole world was a wonder. She saw beauty in everything, was curious about everything, and not a day passed without her experiencing some enormous joy—a good conversation, a delicious meal, a refreshing walk on the soft sand by the ocean. What she loved most was water. The cool, salty water that caressed her skin. Emily never missed an opportunity to plunge into the waves or the smooth surface of the pool. Sometimes, when no one was watching, she would dip her tongue into the water again and again, just to make sure it was still salty. She was especially curious after it rained, because rain wasn’t salty. And a four-year-old girl needs to be certain that not even several days of rain could sweeten the ocean or the water in the pool she shared with neighbor Ted.