The Stalker
Fight Like Hell by Motionless In White
The engine of my Challenger fills the air as I roar through the city streets. I pick my phone up and dial someone I know I can trust with my life. The phone rings twice before the call is answered.
“Hey, I need your help with something, and it’s gotta be now,” I say, without even letting him get in a “hello.”
“Right now, right now? It’s four in the morning, Axel.
The fuck do you need?” His voice is husky.
I know I woke him up, and I don’t give a fuck.
I haven’t needed a favor from him in a while, and he owes me big for dealing with the chaotic events that involved the cops last time.
Fucker took off and left me to play cat and mouse.
“Does it look like I give a fuck what time it is? Get your ass up and meet me at my place,” I growl.
“Well, I can’t see you, so I can’t tell if you look like you give a fuck or not,” he mocks me. My patience is wearing thin from this conversation already, and I’m about to snap my fucking phone in half. I don’t respond.
“Okay, okay, give me a few. I’m with the girl. I’ll get dressed and I'll meet you there, cranky pants.”
Dude is a fucking child. I can't remember why we’re friends. I end the call and turn the volume on my speakers all the way up, playing Fight Like Hell by Motionless In White, setting the tone for the day. The bass instantly radiates through me.
Once I make it back to my home outside the city, I pour myself an Old Fashioned.
The city isn’t for me. Too many things going on all the time.
No one knows the fucking word “privacy” there.
Not having to deal with nosey, complaining heathens every day keeps my mood tolerable.
I live alone, and I like it that way. Just me and my one-story home with two bedrooms and a basement. What more does a man need?
I'm sure I pissed people off with my obnoxious music blaring this early, but I’m still infuriated about last night.
Watching her body trapped on the ground replays in my mind, giving me constant fuel.
The desire to strangle something has been clawing at me since.
Heavy footsteps behind me catch my attention.
“I have a job for us,” I say without hesitation, knowing who is in my home.
“What stick is shoved up your ass, Axel? I was enjoying my sleepless night with my girl, and your rude ass interrupted,” he snickers at me while making humping gestures. I whip my head in his direction and come face-to-face with him.
“I’m not in the fucking mood today, Zane. While you were out playing with your toy, Dahlia had no choice but to walk home, and she… she fucking…” The thumping of my heart gets louder and louder, filling my eardrums.
“Whoa, calm down. What happened to Dahlia? Is she okay?” His tone now serious, coated with worry. He places his palms on my shoulders, pushing me to sit on the chair beside me. I oblige, taking a step backward until I’m met with the soft cushion.
“I caught some pig on top of her in the alleyway behind the apartment. And you can imagine, it wasn't willingly,” I growl.
“I was following her, but I didn't see her. I didn’t fucking see her… until I pulled up toward the alley. The point of the story is, he fucking got away and I need your help finding him.” I cut myself short.
He doesn't need to know the details. It’s irrelevant to him.
All I need him to do is help me track the piece of shit, and I can do the rest.
Zane is a fucking wizard with tech. He taught me everything I know. Like how to hack and install software so I can spy on my Little Flower, which is basically the bare minimum because anything beyond that fries my brain.
Oh, remember when I said I had a way to control what my girl can find about me online? Well, that was all Zane. He helped me erase everything, aside from my criminal record. Let's say it was another favor he owed.
“What do you need me to do? Does Zoe know?” He asks.
“Do. Not. Tell. Zoe. It’s not your business or hers.
I need you to hack into the street camera footage from last night and scan through everything from five o’clock onwards.
Look for anything suspicious, like a car parked nearby, or a masked, hooded man,” I instruct him.
I trust he will be cautious when looking.
“Masked man? Isn't that your thing?”
“Yes, and the fucker has now ruined what I had going, smartass. How long will it take you to do this?” I snark.
I need him to get on this as soon as possible.
I don’t want this guy roaming the streets, thinking he can attack my girl again.
I pull my phone out, clicking on the cameras to her apartment.
My mind is put at ease when I see her still in bed asleep.
“Give me a handful of hours. I have to find the line to the correct street, and that alone will take most of the day,” he says, reaching in his bag and pulling out his laptop. I watch as he clicks and codes a bunch of gibberish. I don’t know what the fuck I’m watching, so I get up to leave.
“Where are you going?” Zane pauses, watching me.
I wave him off as I disappear into the hall.
I need a shower. I was so focused on making sure my Little Flower was clean, I didn’t realize I was just as filthy.
There's soot on my jeans and speckles of crimson scattered on my hands.
It's more Dahlia’s than it is mine. When I pounded into the guy who was on top of her, my knuckles hardly broke skin.
I lather, washing all the evidence of the last few hours away. I watch as the drain drinks the red-tainted liquid, while my mind pulls me back to the moment his body hit the pavement. My muscles twitch, pain seeming to course through me as if I were him.
Swirls of color fade in and out of my vision.
My head has a searing ache that shoots straight down my spine.
My arms and legs are weak. Little tingles from my crushed nerves take over.
I reach into the air, trying to feel for something.
For what? I don’t know. There is a shadow of a figure clouding my vision as I struggle for air.
I slowly begin to be able to articulate who it is. A familiar face stares at me, enraged.
I run my face under the hot water before turning it off. My broken Little Flower… she was mine to break. I wanted her to break for me. I wanted her to break with me. I’ll piece her back together, then tear her apart again.
I dry myself off. All I can do now is wait. As much as it fucking kills me, I know Zane will find who did this to her. I’ll make the fucker beg. Not just at my feet, but at hers most of all. And she’ll be the last face he ever sees. She is going to be the last face he sees.
I pull my phone out and click the camera to my girl’s room again. I notice she has gotten up, and I can see her backside in the view of her bathroom doorway. I walk into my bedroom, turn the TV on, and connect my phone screen to display on it.
I hid a camera in her bathroom, too. I know, call me sick and twisted, but that's when she's naked most of the time, and you think I’m going to skip out on that? No fucking way. I love seeing all of her.
I watch as she winces in the bathroom mirror while re-bandaging her wounds.
Her hand comes up and traces the outline of a long scratch on her cheek.
She grabs her makeup, contemplating if she should even bother.
She sits the glass container back down on the counter in defeat.
Even I know there is no covering that up.
She leaves the bathroom and heads into the kitchen, scanning both it and the living area.
I think she's looking for Zoe. Too bad she was fucking with a headache of a man all night.
All my doing, by the way. Another favor from Zane.
She plops onto the couch as she waits, for all of two seconds, before Zoe shows up.
Dahlia doesn't move or say anything. I can tell she is nervous. Instead, she waits for Zoe to notice that she is sitting there. I watch as Zoe jumps in fear at the unexpectedness of my girl sitting there in utter silence. Not a minute goes by and I see her rush over, cupping my Little Flower’s face in concern.
I turn the volume up, taking a seat on the edge of my bed, not wanting to miss the conversation.
I shouldn’t be listening in the first place, but I can't help myself.
“What the hell happened to you?” Zoe starts.
“Something happened when I was walking home after dance class last night.”
“W-What happened?”
“Well, I was… attacked. I was in the alley behind the apartment when this masked guy came and tried to take advantage of me. Well, he sort of did. Do you remember the guy who has been leaving me creepy notes and pictures of me around the apartment?”
Hey, they are love notes. Thank you very much. Only mildly creepy.
“Did he do this to you?” Zoe asks in concern.
“No! He saw what was happening and helped me. I don’t know how he knew I was there, but if it wasn't for him, I’m not sure what else would’ve happened.
The man that attacked me pinned me on the floor in the alleyway.
And the stalker guy pulled him off me, and I’m not sure after that…
the next thing I knew, I was being carried into the apartment. ”
Yeah, thank fuck I was watching her. She doesn’t need to know how.
“Wait, wait. What the fuck? You got assaulted and your stalker was there too?”
Saving the day.
“Zoe, he helped me. He didn't hurt me; the other guy did. He carried me to the apartment and helped clean me up. He didn’t lay a finger on me without my permission.”
“Dahlia, that doesn't make it any better. He could have easily hurt you, too. I mean, Jesus, you don’t even know the guy. What you do know is that he is a creep.”
“But he didn’t hurt me, Z. He saved me. The thought of me being unsafe with him did cross my mind.
But he took care of me. I couldn't fend for myself. I blacked out pieces of it, even though I thought I was strong enough to withstand it. I know you're concerned, and thank you for that, but I’m not looking for a lecture. What I’m looking for is for you to be here for me.
Be the best friend I know I can always count on. I need you now more than ever.”
I’m a little ticked that Zoe keeps talking down on me. She wasn't there; she left her best friend alone to walk at night. I was there. I was the one who took care of her. She wasn't there to witness what happened.
My blood begins to boil. I stand to pace around the room, zoning out the rest of their conversation. I can sit here and put the blame on her, but it’s not her fault. It’s not like she would've been any help, anyway.
I peer at the screen, watching as they embrace each other in comfort. I turn the TV off, not needing to see anymore. I have to check on Zane to see if he has made any progress because it’s killing me to not torture the fucker right now.