Ever been stalked?

It was like a game of cat and mouse.
I was the mouse.

Every time I slowly paced three steps forward, he surely followed.
Though I tried to be as subtle as possible, somehow he could hear me.

We were at the Wilson’s old place on Evergreen Avenue.

How he found me is beyond me.

But there I was standing on a long piece of wood that lead me to the living room–if that’s what you want to call it.

But then I didn’t want to move a muscle as I felt his cold breath come over me like a menacing wave. Oh god, how I hated his eldritch pant.

I slowly treaded along the wood making sure not to look down.

Any miscalculation and I would fall hard, perhaps to my death. But at this point, I wondered if that was the better alternative.

Silent as the mouse that I was, I waddled along the wood until I reached the living room. I hid by the couch, listening intently for his hard footsteps ready to charge at me.

Behind me, I heard a soft tapping that almost startled me.

Looking down, I became aware that it was my very own feet as they trembled.

I used both hands to hold them still, but they managed to tap only slightly.

And then the brightest idea came to me.

As I heard him slowly pace along the wood. I called out to him.

“You can’t get me, son of a bitch.”

The deep vibration of his laugh crept under my skin.

Shit, I thought.

I propelled the wood out of place, watching it fall to the floor. It split in half as it hit hard against the concrete.
But the man had not fallen with it.

Somehow he had made his way back just in time.

“You still can’t reach me,” I said.

“Now, how will you get down?” he asked.

His voice resonated with pure evil.

Then I heard him burst out with a monstrous laugh.
His cackle sounded familiar but I just couldn’t remember where I heard it before.

“I’ll just wait for you to come down,” he roared.

I don’t know how much time had passed.
I would say 3 hours or so.
And still, I could hear his heavy breathing.

“What do you want!” I managed to yell, just before my fabricated confidence shattered under me.

“What can you give me?” he asked.

“I don’t have any money,” I said.

“Don’t want your money,” he responded.

A long pause.

I didn’t know what to say.
I almost wept, but I knew better.

“What do you want?” I managed.

“I just want.”

He paused.
“ A piece of your blondest hair,” he replied.

“Did you use, Rose’s Livington Shampoo today?” he asked.

“Sorry?” I asked.

“You know the one with the red rose on the label. I like that one,” he said.

His words pierced my skin and I almost collapsed to the floor.

I did not respond.

His ugly words were too disturbing to process.

It was at that moment I knew what type of man I was facing.
No. This was not a man, this was a monster. I had my very own stalker.

“Or,” he paused.

“Can I have your shirt?”

“I know it smells like the lavender perfume you keep on top of your dresser.
Not the black one, the white one. Unless you ran out of it,” he said.

So there I was, listening to a man I had never met describe the exact shampoo I used and the perfume I kept on top of my dresser.

“Please,” I said.

“Leave me alone. I won’t call the cops. Say, I don’t even know what you look like,” I said.

I paused and the tapping came again.
I placed my hands over my feet.

I was trembling.

“You know, things could get very bad,” he said.

He paused.

“It’s not like I’m asking for…”


He didn’t even have to say it. I already knew.

I irked at those words.
This was a creep. Perhaps, a serial killer.
I didn’t know what to think. I didn’t even want to think.

“I’ll give you my shirt,” I said.

“I’ve changed my mind,” he said.
“What?” I asked.

“I want you,” he said.

And I had no courage left in me.
I wept at those words.

“Don’t cry, honey. I won’t hurt you,” he said.

And with that, I began to yell.

I screamed at the top of my lungs.

No one heard me.

“You’re smarter than to make me mad,” he roared.

At this point I had yelled so much, I couldn’t even speak.

I looked down at the concrete below.
To me, it seemed I had no other choice.

I don’t know how long I stood there watching the concrete below.

It could have been hours.

And I kept on hearing his voice in my head. I try to push it out but it was pointless.

Then I snapped to make out what he was saying.

All I hear him say was, “Mine.”

He kept uttering that nonstop.

Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine.

I couldn’t take it. His voice poisoned my ears. His mere voice poisoned my body. He poisoned my mind.

And so I jumped off to the first floor, to the sound of bones cracking.

I watched him loom out of the darkness.

And I couldn’t believe my eyes.
I knew this man.

Why he was my next door neighbor.

4 thoughts on “Ever been stalked?

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