Fuck. Fuck. FUCK! Dumb bitch wasn't anything like her. Heath was fucking seething, pissed off. His lovely, lovely lovelylovelylovely girl would never act like that. She'd never say something so crass, so vulgar. This bitch wasn't saying the right lines, wasn't reading the script that he had perfectly laid out. So what if she was scared out of her mind? That she didn't even fucking know how to act? Heath didn't give a shit. Like the rest, she was a failure. Making him fail. He could never woo her like this, not when his approach is still a fuckin' mess. He stands, a little surprised by the blood on his hands. He drops the wrench, looking at the blood and bits of flesh sticking to it. Sonofabitch. He was goin' through 'em faster. The first had lasted a month before he lost it. That... That one had been unfortunate. But she just looked so similar to her, had almost the exact same figure. Heath just couldn't stop himself from having a taste and satisfying his curiosity. Every fantasy he ever had was of her, and that body was close enough to make him think it was her for just a little. But then he had heard her, the real her, opening the door to her house. And Heath was fucking ashamed. His mama didn't raise him to a be a cheater. He was a loyal man. He killed that girl later that night, swearing not to touch another. But then he found one that smiled almost like her, and he had the thing screaming in his basement again. Now this was the fifth one, 'n she hardly lasted a day. He needed to slow down. Still Creek was a quiet little town but even the Sheriff made a statement about looking into the missing girls. Probably had to do with the fact that they all kinda looked like his little wife.