The Stalker

You see me.

You watch and obsess.

Everything I do, you study.  You try to understand the reasoning behind my movements. 

First there were the letters.  Then the calls.  Then, when I called for the police, you disappeared, making me believe that you were nothing but an illusion. 

But you're not.

I know you're there, watching as I undress.  I can feel you, your eyes following me, and the hairs on the back of my neck stand to attention.  You're scaring me. 

I close the window, pulling down the blinds but my sense of fear stays.  And it hits me, a realization that I haven't checked the doors.

Half naked, I race downstairs to see the back door open, swinging in the breeze of the cool night.  Gasping for air, I race to the phone.  I must call for help.  I dial the first number when I get that unshakable sense.  I tense, knowing you're there.

As you approach I can smell your cologne.  The scent I bought for my partner lingers near my nose.  I can feel your breath on the nape of my neck, you hands running over my body.  You expect me to feel powerless, to give in. 

But, you picked on the wrong girl.

With a jab to the ribs, you're on the ground.  You struggle for air and watch as I make my escape into the night. 

I bang on the doors of the neighboring homes, in hopes someone will come to my rescue.

A door opens and I tell my frightening story.  He leads me inside, checking to see if you are coming.

As he closes the door, I collapse into the armchair.  He stands before me, offering his robe to shield my semi-nude body.  Thanking him, I stand, accepting his robe.  But as I tie it into place, I get a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. 

I know that scent.  That cologne.

Wide eyed, I turn to see you're grinning face.  I have played into your trap.  My scream is muffled beneath the gag you thrust into my mouth.  You bind my hands and carry me towards the basement, my sobbing cries lost in the music of the night.