Chapter One
Peyton
That sensation makes its way up my neck again, a feeling of not being alone, of being watched.
I pause in my approach to my car, looking around the empty parking lot.
I worked overtime tonight at the ER and it’s nearing midnight now, which unfortunately means no one else happens to be around the staff parking lot at the hospital.
It's the third time I’ve felt this feeling of being watched and it’s getting harder and harder for me to dismiss it as my own paranoia.
I quickly take in my surroundings, trying to note anything out of the ordinary, but come up empty.
Picking up my pace again, I quickly make my way to my car, climbing in and instantly locking the doors behind me.
This is getting ridiculous, am I imagining things?
The first time this happened was in the supermarket, it was busy, but I had the distinct feeling that I was being watched.
The second time was outside my apartment the other night; that night was different, though, I’ve convinced myself I saw a shadow behind the tree.
But then tonight is just a feeling again, there are no signs of anyone else around the parking lot.
I feel like I’m going insane and I don’t know what to do.
I can hardly go to the cops with a feeling; I literally have nothing else to give them, not once have I seen anyone or received anything.
The thirty minute drive home is filled with me continually checking my rear-view mirror and telling myself off because I’m just imagining things.
Walking through the front door of my apartment I’m greeted by the best man to ever exist and my absolute world.
“Hi D’Artagnan,” I coo, crouching down to stroke his back as he rubs himself against my legs.
“Did you miss mommy? Did you miss me, baby boy?” He paws at my legs, chirping his agreement.
I scoop him up and cuddle him as I make my way into my bedroom to shower and change, already feeling the stress leave my body as he buries his soft little head under my chin, purring contentedly.
I place him on the bed as I go to strip for my shower but pause and turn to the window in my room.
The blinds are up as usual — I never normally close them, they look out into the woods so no one can see in — but something is telling me that tonight I need to close them.
As I pull the chord to shut out the trees, I look out and see nothing but darkness.
No movement, no mis-shaped shadows. Nothing.
“What do you think, D’Artagnan? Is mommy being silly?” I ask as I turn back to my little fur baby. His only response is a tilt of his head and kissy eyes. “Yeah, helpful as usual,” I mutter. “Come on, shower time.” He likes to sit on the lid of the toilet while I wash, he’s my little shadow.
For the first time since I moved in here, I leave the bathroom door open, giving me a view of my bedroom and the hallway of my apartment. I’m following my gut instinct right now, and it’s screaming that something is wrong. That danger is lurking nearby.
***
Having tossed and turned all night, I push the button on my coffee machine needing the nectar of the Gods more this morning than most. I turn on the T.V so I can watch the morning news.
“Details have emerged about Gerald White, whose body was found last Monday in the downtown area. A source has informed us that he was being closely monitored by police for pedophilia. Since his death, evidence has been found to prove this. This begs us to ask the question: is our city vigilante responsible for the ending of yet another villain?”
The report goes into a discussion about our resident hero-villain.
The public and news stations are split on their opinion of him — assuming that it even is a ‘him’.
Some praise him for removing scum from the face of the earth, others say that people cannot take the law into their own hands, and that at the end of the day he is committing murder.
I’m somewhere in the middle. As a first year ER resident and having taken the Hippocratic Oath, I can’t condone murder, but having seen the horrific results of some hideous crimes, by hideous people, I’m also glad to see some of them leave this earth by any means necessary.
There’s not one of his suspected victims that I’ve felt sorry for, they are all the vilest of human beings.
I’m distracted from my thoughts by my cat getting the zoomies by the front door.
“D’Artagnan, what are you doing?” I call, but he continues running about like an absolute loon. It sounds like he’s moving something around, though. Walking out into the hallway I investigate what he’s trying to destroy this time.
“What have you got?” I ask when I see him laying on something white, his large saucer-like eyes staring at me.
Grabbing what I can now see is a piece of paper and avoiding his gnawing jaws, I pull it out from under him and freeze.
The blood drains from my face and fear like I’ve never known runs through me.
I re-read the words written on the square of card, certain I must be imagining them.
But they’re still there, still horrifying and still on the floor of my hallway after having been slipped under my door.