Chapter 39
Her
I stand up from Mily’s couch with gratitude and unease sitting side by side in my chest. We talked for hours, yet it feels like we only uncovered part of something much darker.
Her story did not comfort me the way I hoped it would, but it confirmed something important. What is happening to me follows a pattern. It has happened before. Knowing that makes me feel slightly less alone, even though the fear is still there, steady beneath my skin.
I look at her sincerely. "Mily… thank you for telling me all of this. I know it couldn’t have been easy to talk about again."
She gives a small nod, her expression calm but serious. "It wasn’t easy." She admits. "But if it helps you understand what you’re dealing with, then it’s worth it."
"I really appreciate it." I say quietly.
"Just be careful, Iris." She adds, her voice turning firm. "Men like him are patient. They watch. They learn things about you without you even realizing it."
"I will." I promise. "I’ll stay alert."
There’s a brief pause before I ask, "If things get worse… or if I figure something out… can I reach out to you again?"
"Of course." She says without hesitation.
"And Iris," she says gently, meeting my eyes, "remember something. Surviving this takes strength. Even when it doesn’t feel like it."
We hug briefly at the door before I step outside into the cool evening air. The sky has darkened into deep twilight, and the countryside feels quiet in a way that makes every sound stand out.
As I sit at the bus stop waiting for my bus, my thoughts keep circling around the photograph Mily showed me and the strange way her stalker stopped harassing her the moment she moved away. The ending of her story feels too clean, too sudden to make sense.
People like that do not simply lose interest overnight. The possibility that he did not stop at all, but only shifted his attention somewhere else, stays with me as I sit there, watching the empty road and waiting for the bus that still hasn’t arrived.
Then I feel it. That familiar sensation of being watched creeping slowly up my spine, like cold fingers tracing my skin. My heart rate spikes instantly.
At first, I look up casually, forcing myself not to react too quickly, telling myself not to jump to conclusions.
Across the street, under a pale streetlight, a man stands perfectly still. The evening is quiet, almost empty, which makes his presence stand out even more.
Even from this distance, his build looks similar. Broad shoulders, solid frame, not bulky but strong. The resemblance is subtle, yet it tightens something deep in my stomach.
He is not pacing or checking his phone like most people would while waiting for a bus. He is completely still. Hands in his pockets. Head slightly lowered. Focused.
The stillness is what unsettles me most. It feels intentional, not casual. His gaze is fixed in my direction. Not wandering, not distracted. Watching.
I try to convince myself that I am overthinking it, that my mind is connecting details because I have been obsessing over that photograph. But then he tilts his head slightly, slowly, in the same deliberate way as the figure in the reflection.
The movement is controlled, almost thoughtful. And in that instant, doubt disappears. My pulse pounds violently in my ears, and a cold wave of realization crashes over me so suddenly that it feels physical.
My stomach drops hard enough to make me nauseous. My fingers tingle and go numb where they grip the edge of the bench. My breathing turns shallow, quick and uneven, as if my lungs have forgotten how to work properly.
The world around me fades into the background, the street, the buildings, the faint morning light, everything blurs until there is only him.
Questions slam into my mind one after another.
How does he know I am here? Did he follow me from home?
Was he outside Mily’s house, watching us talk?
Has he been tracking me this entire time without me ever noticing?
The bus still hasn’t arrived, and the delay feels unbearable. Every second stretches painfully long.
Then he starts walking toward me. Not running. Not rushing. Just walking with the same measured pace, as though he has all the time in the world. That calmness terrifies me more than aggression would.
I stand immediately, my legs unsteady, forcing myself to move before fear freezes me completely. I turn and begin walking in the opposite direction, trying not to look like I am fleeing, even though every instinct in my body is screaming at me to run.
After a few steps, I hear the faint rhythm of his footsteps behind me. Steady. Matching mine. I quicken my pace, and so does he. My heartbeat becomes deafening, drowning out the sounds of the street. I glance back, and he is closer now, still composed, still unhurried, which somehow makes it worse.
A sudden surge of fear pushes me forward and I break into a jog, my heart pounding so hard it feels painful inside my chest. Panic drains my energy quickly, but instinct forces my legs to keep moving.
Behind me, I hear the change in his pace. His footsteps shift into a jog as well. Steady, controlled, never rushed. The sound of them growing closer makes tears sting my eyes as terror rises higher inside me.
I run faster, desperate to put distance between us, but the quiet street offers nowhere to hide. The calm certainty in his pursuit makes everything feel worse, like he already knows this chase will end the way he wants it to.
Ahead of me, a narrow path leads into a wooded trail. Without thinking, I turn toward it. It is darker than the road and far less visible, but it is closer, and right now instinct matters more than logic.
Branches scrape against my arms as I push through the trees, leaving thin lines of pain I barely notice. Twigs snap loudly under my shoes with every step, echoing through the still morning air.
My breathing becomes ragged almost immediately, each inhale burning my lungs. Nothing matters except getting away. My phone nearly slides out of my pocket as I run, and I grab it tightly, holding onto it like it might be the only thing that could save me if I find a moment to call for help.
Behind me, his footsteps continue through the trees closing the distance little by little. His footsteps follow into the woods. Heavy. Not angry. Just persistent.
"Stop running, Iris."
His voice cuts through the trees behind me, closer than before. I don’t respond. I can’t spare the breath even if I wanted to. Panic is climbing higher inside my chest, making every inhale shallow and painful as I force my legs to keep moving.
"I want you to understand something." He continues calmly from somewhere behind me, his voice steady despite the chase. "You can’t escape me. No matter where you go. No matter who you talk to."
I keep running, my focus narrowing to the uneven ground beneath my feet. The chase stretches on, and exhaustion begins to creep in, slowly replacing the sharp edge of adrenaline.
My legs start to tremble with the effort. A sharp cramp forms in my side, stabbing with every breath. Tears blur my vision as fatigue and fear mix together, making the trail ahead harder to see.
"You can’t run forever." He calls again, even closer now. "Sooner or later you’ll have to stop."
My shoes slip more than once in the loose dirt, nearly sending me crashing down, but I keep moving, driven by the raw instinct to survive. I don’t look back. I don’t slow down. I just run.
Then my foot catches on something hidden beneath the leaves.
I trip hard over a thick root and fall forward with a cry of surprise, hitting the ground with enough force to knock the air completely out of my lungs. Pain shoots through my palms as they scrape against the dirt, and my knee slams into the ground.
For a few terrifying seconds I can’t breathe at all. My chest burns as my body struggles to pull air back into my lungs.
Behind me, his footsteps slow. Then they stop. I don’t need to turn around to know he’s standing there. I can feel the presence behind me, heavy and unavoidable.
A moment later he steps closer, and his shadow stretches over the ground beside me before I even see him. He crouches slightly, his voice low and controlled when he speaks.
"You shouldn’t have gone looking for me."
I try to crawl backward, desperate to put even a little space between us, but my back hits the rough bark of a tree almost immediately. The impact traps me there, leaving nowhere else to move. My chest rises and falls quickly as panic floods through me.
"Please…" The word escapes before I can stop it, my voice shaking. "Please just leave me alone."
He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he reaches down and grabs my wrist, his fingers closing around it with a firm, unyielding grip. I gasp as he pulls me closer, terror rushing through me so suddenly it makes my whole body go rigid.
I squeeze my eyes shut and cover my face with my free hand, my voice breaking as fear finally spills out of me.