One
Stalker
My lungs cried out for oxygen, threatening to burst from my chest. As much as I wanted to relent and stop to catch my breath, I knew he would catch me. Brick walls stood firm and unrelenting on either side as my feet pounded the cracked blacktop lining the narrow alleyway. A lone streetlight glowed with a dim orange haze. A random stranger passing underneath it wouldn’t give it a second thought, but for me it was everything. It meant that the alleyway ended, that I had a way out.
“Wait!” The man shouted.
His footsteps echoed mere feet behind mine. He would catch me and do who knows what. The streetlight hummed as its glow washed over me. Stealing just a split second I glanced back. He was just behind me, staring intently, determined to catch his prey.
“What do you want from me?”
I turned to the right, forcing my feet down the sidewalk. In the middle of the city there had to be something open, even this incredibly late at night. Every store front within eyesight stood dark and empty, a shell of their daytime selves. Two beams of light turned around a corner, coming directly toward me. Maybe if the driver was friendly I could convince them to stop. Fortunately I didn’t have to try because the light belonged to a ratty looking bus.
It could have been missing a roof and I wouldn’t have cared. Mustering up strength that hadn’t existed I raced toward the mechanical behemoth as it pulled into its designated stop. Having seen better days the door struggled to open, but managed to creak and shake its way into place. The heavyset bus driver stared at me as if I were a trespasser.
“That’ll be fifty cents,” he growled.
I dove in my jeans pocket. Did I even have any money on me? I wasn’t sure and with my current state knowing my own name was a feat as grand as scaling Mt. Everest. By feeling the shapes of various coins buried at the bottom of my left pocket I managed to locate two quarters and slid them into the hungry slot.
Scurrying like a wounded animal I hid in the very last seat. Maybe he hadn’t seen me get on the bus. Maybe he thought I told the driver what was going on and he didn’t want to risk making a scene. The door jumped to life, again struggling to move. An arm reached in when it was about halfway closed. My heart sank and my stomach twisted into knots, threatening to rip apart as he climbed aboard.
I refer to him as he because I didn’t know his name, heck I didn’t really know what he looked like. He just stopped me randomly on the street and insisted that I come with him. I mean who does that other than kidnappers and murderers? Now I was trapped and just knew that when we came to the next stop he would force me to get off with him. My short, uneventful life was about to come to a very tragic and undeserved end. His lanky frame covered by a puffy jacket settled into the seat directly behind the driver, a perfect position to silence him if need be.
His icy gaze locked onto me as he shifted, shoving his back against the window. I rested my head against the window pane, which cooled my now sweating face. Scanning the sidewalks I looked for any signs of life, hoping to find at least one person perched at a bus stop. Every stop we passed there only stood a sign and metal bench, keeping each other company but offering nothing for me.
My cheeks warmed up and sweat emanated in droves, causing the window to turn lukewarm. Nervousness has a way of making you sweat, but this was something different. My body temperature rose steadily and the sweat didn’t subside. Attempting to stand I managed a single wobbled step before falling back into the seat. My now blurry stalker immediately stood and sauntered straight toward me.
“Hey, what are you doing?” The driver asked actually sounding concerned for me.
I wanted nothing more than to scream out to him for help. He could call the cops and this whole ugly nightmare would be over in mere minutes. For the first time in my life I couldn’t find my voice. My mouth stretched open, but only released silence. The words formed in my head, but my body refused to let them escape. It felt like I was yelling into the depths of a cave and instead of echoing back it decided to keep my words, locking them away for all eternity.
“She’s my daughter,” my stalker calmly replied. “She’s diabetic and snuck out to meet her boyfriend forgetting her insulin. I wanted to make sure she made it home without embarrassing her so I kept my distance.”
I couldn’t tell if the driver bought his cleverly crafted lie, but he fell silent. My chances of survival dwindling at an alarming rate, I internally screamed orders. Move I thought to my legs. They tried, but nothing. Apparently appendages with strength now the equivalent of gelatin don’t hold up very well. His lanky frame hovered inches from me. His very presence made the bile forming in my throat threaten to come topside.
I expected him to pull a knife on me, or possibly worse, instead he brushed my stringy blonde hair aside and placed a bony hand across my forehead. Was this part of his fatherly act? He had already silenced the driver, what more did he need to prove?
“Everything is going to be just fine Tiffany. I need you to calm down before things get out of hand.”
Did he just say my name? How much did this creep know about me? Unsure of how to respond I remained still and silent, willing with all of my mental strength for our brief but unpleasant encounter to end. As if answering my prayers the bus squealed to a stop on brakes that should have been replaced years ago. My stalker took my left hand in his right and pressed something firmly against it. I slid the object around, feeling the pointed edges of a folded piece of paper.
Now at the front of the bus, the stalker looked back at me and said, “I have some business to take care of, but I will meet you at home. You’re lucky I had that extra insulin shot on me, next time, don’t forget it at home.”
The bus driver said nothing, obviously buying such an elaborate story. Strangely enough I didn’t say anything either. I wanted to scream out, to tell the driver to call 911, but couldn’t find the words. Feeling defeated I got off at the next bus stop, just a few blocks from my house. With every footstep against the hard concrete I craned my head back, expecting to catch the slightest glimpse of my stalker lurking in the shadows.
Our red apartment door beckoned me the second it came into view. Sure it was worn, but now it was one of the greatest things that I had ever laid eyes on. Gripping the knob, I threw it open, only to race inside and slam it shut once more. The click of the lock was miniscule compared to the bongo session my heart was playing.
“Tiffany, there you are.” My mother called from the kitchen. “I was worried about you.”
Attempting to calm down I tried to adopt an emotionless, if not bored expression, but the damn that held my emotions finally had one too many cracks. Helpless as the water poured out I threw my arms around my mother, never wanting to let go.
“This…this guy came after me,” I sobbed into her fluffy blue robe.
“What?” she shouted, her voice cracking.
“He chased me and even got on the bus with me,” I added.
Pulling away, she focused her eyes directly on mine. What were usually calm circles of gentle blue oceans were now rapid storms that even the most experienced captain would think twice about navigating. She bore responsibility for my physical features, from my stringy blonde hair and skinny frame to my dazzling blue eyes, but mine had never looked like that before.
“Did he hurt you?” She managed slow and evenly. Who knew such a simple question could encompass so many terrifying possibilities.
“No,” I said, looping the memory over and over. “My head got really warm until I thought I was going to pass out. He felt of my forehead and left.” The words sounded stupid coming out of my mouth but Mon believed every word.
“Maybe he tried to poison you or something.”
She grabbed the phone and punched in 911. Shaking slightly she managed to hold it to her face long enough to request a police officer. She described my stalker as I fed her the description, making sure to give every detail that I could remember.
Returning it to the receiver she said, “They will have someone here in just a few minutes. I bet you are exhausted. Why don’t you go to your room and rest?”
I obliged, nodding slightly. My bed embraced my body easing me into what was unfortunately a false sense of comfort. Exhaling slowly I stretched, clenching my fists as I raised my arms. A tiny bit of pressure reminded me that I still held the piece of paper. Discovering its contents was my first instinct, but I held them at bay with the thought that it could contain my stalker’s phone number. Was everything that happened his weird way of flirting with me? I didn’t know and wondered why I even cared.
Drowsiness hovered over me and I nearly surrendered to its seduction when my bedroom door creaked open.
“Honey,” my mother called out gently as if a high tone would shatter me.
Did she really think one incident could leave me so fragile and broken? Her silent footsteps gave me my answer.
“The police officer is here, but I told him you needed to rest, so I will fill him in on all the details.”
“Okay,” I mumbled, silently willing the drowsiness not to subside.