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32
Greyson
Isit parked at the end of the block, half an hour after arriving, with a sudden keen insight on what a day in the life of a stalker must be like as I spy the muted light straining through the thin curtains of the narrow windows at the top of her basement apartment.
She mustn’t get much light…
At my size, people don’t usually intimidate me, but I find my eyes slowly wandering up and down the street, tracking a group of men walking by, rowdy as they fill the sidewalk. I can’t help but imagine how she would feel if she were walking past them alone right now.
I hadn’t quite realized how unsafe this neighborhood feels at night.
I’m not sure if I can stomach her living here anymore.
There goes the fucking stalker again…
Fuck.
I pick up my phone, contemplating whether I should just call her and tell her I’m here, but she’ll probably just tell me to go fuck myself—quite rightly as well.
If I knock on the door after that, she’d have every right to mace me in the face.
I manage a deep breath, wondering why I can deal with famous politicians and the wealthiest, most powerful of people in my line of work, barely batting an eyelid when I meet them, but my stomach is in unfamiliar knots when going to meet an insubordinate little brat who is half my height and weight and who I suspect may still be hungry for my cock.
I drop my head, knowing full well I have no right to be here after leaving her the way I did.
Just as I contemplate turning on the car and leaving, some force propels me to grab my phone and keys and get out, slamming the door behind me before slowly walking down the sidewalk towards her place.
I have no idea what the fuck I’m doing.
My feet are carrying me while my brain is hating every nauseating and intrusive minute of it. I don’t need to see her. I just need to… see where she is right now.
My eyes pan up the trunk of a maple nestled in someone’s front garden, its leaves already turning to Amber in the early fall. Glancing down, the pavement is dirty and cracked in places with weeds growing between gaps in the slabs.
And as I study the frankly delipidated house whose basement she lives at the bottom of, a thought hits me…
What if she has someone in there with her?
A man…
I mean, I guess I’ll be spending the night in jail if that’s the case. Make daddy proud.
Apparently, me spending my adult life not feeling more than an ounce of jealousy around any woman I've been with has all been preparation for the entire repressed tsumani of it to shoot forth all over this girl, because I swear to God, while she has every right to do what she wants, the thought of another man touching her makes me want to gnaw through his neck with my teeth until his head falls off his shoulders and I can use it as a soccer ball.
Fucking well losing it…
I keep moving forwards, the weathered brick and wood-faced building getting closer, its façade murky for the sun set some time ago.
I peer at the hedge in front of the building to the sound of voices and the slam of a door as I move at a slow pace towards her apartment until…
I stop in my tracks.
A couple walk out from between two short lines of Berberis—the man, of medium height and wearing dark jeans and an ochre jacket, the woman wearing a black skirt or dress that drops down to her mid-calf, an oversized denim jacket and a thin pale scarf wrapped around her neck.
My heart pounds roughly and I remain as still as a statue as I watch the ghostly apparition and the jolting fucking hell of her looping her hand into his arm as she giggles loudly. And as they pivot, their backs now to me, I see, despite the gloomy light, the unmistakable flourish of pink peeking out from below her scarf, its hue tainted orange due to the old street lamps above.
“It can’t be,” I mutter, beginning to walk, my pace quickening as I try to get closer, to be sure, to refrain from tapping into the kind of sudden unbidden rage that consumes me when I think of her and other men.
“No.” The word falls from me as I stop dead in my tracks in a nightmarish moment of insidious hollow dread and dawning regret at not having come to see her sooner.
