It's a Sin

I started and moved the gear shift out of neutral and into drive. I watched him walk down his front steps.

I was one of the few people in France to own a car – albeit a small one – so I had to be even more careful not to be noticed.

But he had a car too. I waited for his car to get around the corner before easing off the brake and following it.

The market. He was going to the market.

There's no parking in Plan-de-la-Tour, so he parked on the curb. I drove past and made my usual rounds of the market, so I wouldn't draw suspicion. Even so, you'd think he'd notice the same car showing up so often in his life.

~

I'd been following Johnny Depp for roughly a year.

I had dated Vanessa Paradis for two years. She dumped me for him – the famous American actor. She couldn't settle for the small-time French director. Jaques Ames wasn't famous enough for Vanessa Paradis, the glorified singer.

Six months after our breakup, I found out she was pregnant, who she was dating, and where she lived with her new beau.

She had cheated on me. With him.

Originally, I went to their house to confront them. I was furious. But when I got there, parked in front of their house, my courage wavered. I'm not particularly conflict-oriented. While I debated internally, sitting in my car in the dark, he came out with a full trash bag.

I froze and watched him walk it down to the bin, then go back inside. His physique was stunning… He wasn’t particularly tall, nor graceful. He was built and had an essence of manliness about him… as well as a sort of strangeness.

I felt something in my chest as I watched him walk back through the door.

I returned to my modest house. I stayed awake all night thinking about it. I'd never been so puzzled about anything before.

The next day, I returned, this time in daylight. And I saw them together. I could easily watch them through the window. He was smiling – a beautiful, if unique smile – and she was giggling. He wrapped his arms around her and she kissed him. I felt a burning in my stomach. After puzzling all night, I brushed this off as jealousy of Johnny. I had been the one she would kiss. The one who would make her giggle…

But I wasn't looking at her now. I was watching the sunlight catch his dark hair. I was looking at his arms wrapped around her, an Indian tattoo peeking out from his shirt sleeve, his masculine form…

I continued my visits. I had followed him to the market, to the next town, even through parks and shops on foot. I'd never followed just her… it was always him. Or the both. Following them both was emotionally straining. I didn't know I could be so possessive of her… or simply so jealous.

Of course, I had to be careful; no one could see me, or at least take notice of me. I could never act on my… envy.

Over the months, my feelings grew, and my confusion returned. I'd never felt anything similar or so strong before… Jealousy, I told myself. He had stolen Vanessa from me. But it wasn't a hostile feeling that I felt toward him…

No. Jealousy. Nothing more. Nothing else.

~

After I completed my third round of the market, I realized he had left. I sighed, mad at myself for not watching closely enough. I returned to my own home, to get some rest and something to eat. As I walked through the door, my shelf of movies greeted me. It was a small collection, but growing steadily. They were his movies.

As I walked down the hallway and into my room, my eyes skimmed over the numerous newspaper and magazine articles pinned to the walls. Most of them were of him and Vanessa, and I felt a small version of the burning seep into my stomach.

The movies and articles, the photographs – they were my research. I never thought of what I was doing as stalking. Stalking was bad. Johnny didn't like stalkers.

I lay down so I would be rested for later. I had a plan.

~

Tonight, I brought a gun. It's a small hand gun, and it's resting on the passenger seat. The lights are on in the house and I can see them moving around. Suddenly, the door opens, and he walks out. He's carrying a trash bag. It seems to be his only chore.

His back is to me as he sets the bag down. Trying to be quiet, I ease open the car door. I cross the space between us quickly and press the gun into his back.

He jumps and spins, tripping over the garbage.

"You make a sound, you're dead," I whisper. He picks himself up slowly and puts his hands up, a signal that he's harmless.

My hand shakes. So many emotions course through me.

If he's dead, it'll solve everything, I try to reason with myself. All these feelings will be gone. The jealousy. The jealousy will be gone. I cock the gun. Maybe Vanessa will take me back, I add as an afterthought.

But for some reason the thought of Vanessa being mine again doesn't thrill me as it should. The prospect of shooting Johnny terrifies me more than I expected. I can't. I look to the house and consider shooting Vanessa instead… that sounds much easier.

I look back to him. He hasn't moved.

Fear is evident in his dark eyes.

I don't want to shoot him. The fear in his eyes makes me want to cry. I want to hold him and keep him safe, and not let anyone harm him. I want to take away his fear.

Now I'm afraid of myself. I back up slowly, choking on the lump in my throat. All I can do is shake my head. When I'm near enough, I run to my car and dive in, the tires squealing as I leave. I can see him in the headlights; he hasn't moved.

My heart and sanity break as I speed away.