In the Shadow of a Stranger

(Internet problems unfortunately prevented me from posting this yesterday
but still better late(r than intended) than never)

Today’s tale looks at the flipside of unrequited love – unsolicited love – where the affection isn’t only unwelcome it’s actually not wanted. I wrote this when I was about 16 - this is the edited and lengthened version I completed 2 years later.

In the Shadow of a Stranger

I know he’s out there. Just standing there on the corner of the street. Watching. Waiting. It’s tipping it down with rain but he won’t care. He never cares. Nothing moves him. Nothing scares him. Just like a rock. A big, black rock casting its evil shadow across my whole life. But he’s not like a rock - he’s uncontrollable. Unpredictable. I never know what he’ll do next. Sometimes I don’t want to know. He doesn’t hurt me. He scares me but he’s never come near me.  Yet. He just stands there. But you never know. I never know. People say I’m mad and that I’m imagining it but I’m not. I know I’m not. I can’t be. This can’t be a dream. It can’t be. He has to be real. But what if he’s not. What if they’re right? What if he’s just some wild fantasy that I’ve made up? But why would he be? Why would I imagine something like this? Maybe I am cracking up. I’ve got to check, just to make sure.

No. I’m not dreaming it. He’s there. He’s still there. Standing motionless in that long, black overcoat of his. The rain’s dripping off the rim of his hat onto the hard stone cobbles of the street below. His hands buried deep in his pockets. He’s almost invisible. But I can see him. I know he’s there. I can see him. I can see his smile. His cold, thin-lipped smile reflected in the few meagre streetlights surrounding him. Wait, no, he’s not smiling. He’s sneering. His upper lip is curled back in a fiendish sneer. It makes my skin crawl. The way he just stands there, night after night, every night for the last six months. In all weathers, all hours of the night. But he’s always gone by morning. That’s really strange, isn’t it? The sun comes up and he’s gone. Disappeared from his solitary spot. Sometimes I think that’s worse because then I don’t know where he is. He could be anywhere. He could be at the foot of my block of flats. He could be right outside my door. God, I hope not. Please don’t say he is. Maybe he’s not gone. Maybe he’s still there and I just can’t see him. Maybe he hides around the corner waiting for me to come out and fall into his trap. No that’s ridiculous. He wouldn’t do that, would he? Probably. I don’t know. I don’t know anything.

When I looked out at him just now he looked up at me. He looked straight at my window, almost as if he knew I was looking at him.  But how can he? The yellow light of the street lamps gives his eyes a hellish, reddish glow. It makes him look evil. He is evil. Why else would he be doing this? He’s unspeakably cruel. Watching over me like a big black vulture. Circling around overhead. Waiting for me to come to him. Well, he can forget it. I’m not going anywhere near him. I’m not going to set one foot outside my apartment until he’s gone. I’ve had enough of that horror. The fear that he could be right behind me as I walk down the street. Dreading that he’s staring at me from the other side of the road as I wait for the bus. It was almost as if I could feel his eyes burning into me wherever I went. Burning deep into the back of my neck. Telling me he’s there. Letting me know he’s watching me. He’s destroyed my life. Left me cold and alone in an empty world. Away from my friends, away from my family. I used to have a social life. I used to go out. I used to have a good time and enjoy myself. I can’t do that now. I can’t go out in case he follows. I’d never know if he was just behind me. He’s sucked all the happiness out of my life. Oh my god. He’s turning me into a recluse. I’m scared to go out. I daren’t set foot outside my door in case he comes after me.

When I think about him it’s like ice cubes running down my spine. But I can’t help it. He’s inside my head like a constant headache. I see his face in my dreams. In my nightmares. His eyes boring into me – sucking out my soul. I wake up covered in sweat. Tears soaking my face. My frantic gasps for air sticking in my throat. I’m almost too scared to go to sleep. But then if I don’t then I just sit huddled up in fear for the whole night thinking, wondering, worrying.

Why me? What have I done? What on earth could I have done to deserve this? I haven’t done anything and he’s following my every move. Watching me, smiling his evil smile. Why me? Why did it have to be me?

Sometimes I can see his fingers twitch and I can’t help but wonder what he’s got hidden in his pocket. I don’t like to think about that for too long. It sends shivers down my spine. I don’t like to think about the evils he could be hiding in the deeper recesses of his coat. But whenever I try to take my mind off it he worms his way back into my thoughts somehow. It’s foul. How can he be doing this? It’s like he’s inside my head. Listening to all of my thoughts, all of my worries, all of my fears. He knows what he’s doing to me and it’s like he’s enjoying it. Enjoying the way he’s slowly driving me mad. He’s like a virus that’s slowly infecting my whole body. Spreading down from my head to my feet. Why can’t he leave me alone? Why does he have to do this? Why does he have to make me suffer? Why does he have to be there?

Each night I wish that I’ll look out at that street corner and see an empty space. For once not see that gloomy, shadowy figure stationed perfectly erect just out of sight of the nearest lamp. But whenever I do look out I know it’s no good. He’s always there. Every night. Every single night. My wish doesn’t come true. None of my wishes come true. If they did then he’d have disappeared long ago. But he hasn’t. That’s painfully obvious every time I peel back the curtains to take a quick peek.

The police can’t do anything. They need proof before they can make a move. And he knows it. That’s why all he does is stand and watch. No letters, no phone calls, no contact whatsoever. He doesn’t do anything that could implement him or incarcerate him. He’s too careful. He’s too clever for them. They can’t do anything to stop him. And neither can I. There’s nothing that they can do for me. There’s nobody I can turn to. They’ve all deserted me. Friends, family, neighbours. They’ve all gone. They don’t want anything to do with a deranged woman who thinks she’s being stalked. But I don’t think. I know. I know he’s there. I know he’s watching me. I know he’s following me. I know he’s stalking me.

He knows what he’s doing to me. I know it gives him a cheap thrill when he thinks about it. I know he likes doing this. Otherwise he wouldn’t stand out there on the street would he? But then how do I know. I don’t know anything. I don’t know why he does it and I certainly don’t know him. I don’t know what else he thinks about as he stands there at his lonely spot by the junction. I don’t want to know. It could be anything. All sorts of depraved thoughts could run through his evil brain in the ten or so hours he spends out there every night. From dusk until dawn. For the past six months. Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe it’s been longer. I wouldn’t know. Maybe he’s been watching me for longer than that and I only know since I saw him outside my window one night six months ago. And then he was there the next night. And the next night. And the next.

Why doesn’t he just do something then I’ll know what he wants. No, wait, I don’t want that. I don’t know what he could do. God I hope he didn’t hear that. How could he hear that? He’s down there and I’m up here. He’s out there on the street and I’m up on the fourth floor. How could he hear that? But what if he can. What is he can hear everything that goes on in my flat? What if he…? No. That’s ridiculous. It’s preposterous. But what if…

I’m dreading the day he discovers my telephone number. I know he could if he wanted to. I wouldn’t know what to do if he called me. I’d probably just stand, frozen to the spot, gripping the telephone receiver tightly in my hand. Not daring to put it to my ear but still not daring to put it down. Or maybe I wouldn’t even pick it up. Just sit here waiting for it to stop ringing. Or what if he sent me something through the post. He could do that. He knows where I live. But would he do that? What would I do then? I’d probably open it if I didn’t know it was from him. I don’t know how I’d know. I might even open it if I did. Probably just to see the kind of thing he’d send me. God I don’t know why I’d do that. That sounds crazy. I mean, what if it was a bomb? I don’t think it would be. It’s weird but I don’t think he wants to hurt me. If he did, surely he’d have done it by now. Wouldn’t he?

But how am I supposed to know. Why should I know anything? Why should I know why he’s watching me every single day? Why should I know why he enjoys freaking me out? Why? Because I want to. I want to know. Why is he doing this? I didn’t ask for his attention. I don’t want his attention. I didn’t ask for anything. All I’m asking for now is to be left alone. Everyone’s entitled to their privacy. Why can’t I have mine? It’s so unfair. All of it. Just so unfair. Why me? Out of all the billions of people in the world. Why me? I haven’t done anything. I just want to be left alone. I just want some peace. I just want my sanity.

Why does he have to do this? I don’t like it. I don’t feel safe anymore. Anywhere. He’s taking over me. He’s taking over my life. I’m being swamped. I just want it to end. I hate this. He’s scary. Standing out there. Casting the occasional glance up at my window whenever he feels like it. Looking directly at me. He’s knows I’m here.

Whenever I look at him I can feel this icy coldness come over me as if he’s draining all the warmth out of the room, out of me. As if I’m falling into his cold, cruel clutches. Drowning slowly in the darkness of his soul. No wait. I’m not doing that. I’m here, safe in my own room in my own apartment.

Safe? Who am I kidding?

Why won’t somebody help me? But who can help me. Who can take away the pain and the fear that I’m feeling now. Who would know what I’m feeling? Who would want to or be able to do anything about it. Except him. And he won’t do anything about it. He’s that one that’s causing the pain. And enjoying it. Savouring every moment of it as he stands there every night. Every single night. Oh god. Why? I’m all alone. All alone in my nightmare world. Cut off from the rest of society. From humanity.

I just feel so alone. No one can do anything for me. There’s no one there to help me. There’s no one who knows or even cares. God this is tearing at my heart. Tearing at my soul.  The pain.

Why can’t he just leave me alone? Is that so much to ask? I just want some sanctuary from his constant observation. I want to hide. Somewhere where he can’t get me. Away from his scrutiny. Away from this ceaseless, endless examination of my life. I just want it to end. But there’s nowhere to go. There’s nobody who believes me. There’s nobody who’ll help me. I’m all on my own. Alone with a crazed psychopath following my every move. There’s no way out. I can’t stop thinking about him. I can’t escape. He’s won. He’s got me right where he wants me and now I’ve just got to sit and wait to see what he wants to do with me. Sit and wait and see if he’ll ever leave that street corner and come up the stairs to my door. I wonder if he’d knock or break the door down. Maybe both. Maybe if I didn’t answer the door when he knocked then he’d kick it in. Maybe he’s already come up to my door when I didn’t know. How could I know? He never makes a sound.

But would he do that? Would he come up here? Would he try to enter my flat? That would give the police something to use against him. But by then it would probably be too late. Once he’d got his hands on me, he could disappear halfway across the world. It would be too late. There’d be nothing they could for me. There’d probably be no me. What could he do with me? God, I don’t want to think about it. There’s nothing I can do. There’s nowhere I can go. If I ran he’d just follow. He’d never leave me alone. I’d never escape. I’ll never escape. I’m trapped. Trapped in my own life. There’s nobody who can help me. Nobody who cares. I’m all on my own. There’s no exit. No way out. I’m tired. I’m scared.

I can’t do this. I can’t stand this. He’s too scary. His eyes are too scary. Two deep pools of red. As deep as the sea, as clear as the sky. As red as blood. He’s terrifying me. I feel so helpless. I feel so frightened. I just want someone to help. Somebody? Anybody? There’s no one. Just him and me and he knows it. It’s just how he wants it. I’m all alone. Just alone. And frightened.

Does he want to hurt me? What if he wants to kill me? What if he does? Then what’ll he do? God, what do I care? Listen to me, talking about death. How morbid. If I want to know what he wants with me why don’t I just step outside my apartment and find out. Just look at what he can do with me. Look at the power he’s got. He’s turned me in a nervous wreck. And he hasn’t even done anything yet. He’s just stood there. Doing nothing. Saying nothing. Just standing there.

Somebody help me. Please? Somebody save me. Please? I can see him. He’s down there I know he is. I know you’re there! I can see you! You can’t hide from me! And I can’t hide from you. There’s no one and nothing I can hide behind. Everyone’s deserted me. I’m just sitting here, waiting. Watching and waiting. Just like him. God, please no. I’m nothing like him. But how do I know that? Maybe that’s why he’s following me. God, I hope not. I don’t want to be anything like him. I’m not like him. Am I? Am I?

I don’t want to know. I don’t want to care. I can’t take anymore of this. It’s like being in my own personal hell in my own apartment being watched over by an unfeeling, inhuman creature who won’t leave me alone. I know it’s me he wants. I hate him. I hate it.

God, I don’t know what to do. What can I do? Absolutely nothing. That’s all I ever do. It’s useless. Helpless. I’m all alone. There’s no knight in shining armour. There’s no hero of the hour. My prince is not going to come. There’s only one person in my life now and that’s him.

I just want somebody to come. Somebody to help. Somebody who can take all the pain and misery away. Somebody to snatch me back from the jaws of hell. I just want to be left alone. I just want peace. Is that too much to ask? I just want to regain my sanity. To save myself from the torture he’s putting me through. I just want it to be over. Please. I just want it to end. I’m so scared. I’m so alone. I’m so tired. Please let it end. Please. Please. Please.