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It’s all a dream. Go back to sleep.
Unable to hold the weight of my head, my neck tilts to the side.
“Is someone there?” I grumble, smacking my lips and peeking through a half-open eyelid.
My head rolls to the other side and the dark shadow of a figure comes toward me. “Who are you?” I ask through dry vocal cords and sleepiness. I see a flash, then another, and another. “Are you taking pictures?”
He comes closer, and closer, and this dream has suddenly turned into a nightmare.
Wake up. Do something.
I straighten my back against the headboard, lifting my head and looking into the cutout eyes of the masked figure. My hand reaches out to grab his face, but my wrist is captured in a black, leather glove.
“That hurts.” I try to pull back, but he squeezes harder, and harder, snapping me out of the nightmare and into reality.
My mouth opens to scream, but no sound escapes, and that’s when I realize, his other hand is a barrier for my voice.
I kick and scream and squirm and try to get away but he only strengthens his grip. He’s strong, but I won’t give up.
Lifting one leg up, my flexibility allows me to curl my foot under his arm, and I extend it out, moving his hand away from my mouth long enough to scream as loud as I can. “Help!” Then he puts it back in place, silencing me again.
“What do you want?” I try to say, but I’m speaking into a palm of leather.
This can’t be happening.
I’m going to die.
He’s going to kill me.
Tears fall recklessly down my cheeks, splattering against the glove.
Finally, I surrender because, whatever he wants, he’s going to get.
Then, when I least expect it, hope returns. The masked figure removes his hand from my mouth, eyes burning into mine, but I can’t make out the color in the darkness. I go to scream again, but before I do, a note is dropped on my chest.
I lie there, frozen in place—unable to think…unable to move—as I watch him walk out the door.
Once the shock of the situation has worn off, I shout at the top of my lungs. “Neo!”
While I wait, I pick up the note, folding back each bent corner.
Neo comes barreling into the room, rubbing his tired eyes. He hits the light, before hurrying to my bed. “What the fuck are you screaming about?”
Tears continue to stream down my face as I hold the note out in front of me. “He was here. He took pictures, and he held me down.” I cry some more, choking on my words. “He left this.” I hold up the note with a shaky hand, showing proof of the BCA Stalker’s visit to my room.
Before I can hand Neo the note, he flees from the room. I tear the blanket off me and get to my feet, feeling woozy and off-balance. My head feels like it holds the weight of a bowling ball and it’s official, I will never take another sleeping pill as long as I live. “Neo,” I holler, my voice cracking as his name leaves my lips.
I take one step, then another, before losing my balance and crashing to the floor.
That must’ve been a primo sleeping pill.
I’m not sure how much time has passed when I open my eyes and see Neo kneeling beside me. Somehow I manage to get out the words, “Did you catch him?”
“No. The bastard got away.”
I attempt to sit up, but the spinning in my head sends me right back down. “Whoa.” Neo grabs me. “Did he hurt you?”
I shake my head. “I took a pill. I don’t feel so good.”
