Her family moved in next door the year I was eight. She was sixteen and the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.
She proved conspicuously unconcerned about closing the blinds on her windows. I watched her dress, undress. I watched her shower. It was formative.
I watched her sacrificing random men to power her arcane magic. I told no one. We had an unspoken arrangement: I would flash my lights if her parents were returning unexpectedly, and she performed her nightly peepshows. And more: one night an armed man broke into our house. His heart exploded on the stairs.