The Stalker

Chapter 12

Chapter 12

I sat there, close to him, with the ski mask in my hands, staring into his brown eyes. Something normal to say would be, 'Do I know you from somewhere?' Or 'Hmm... You seem familiar,' but the thing is, I knew who he was. For some reason, the thought scared me. He was behind me, talking to me, and didn't even have a clue that it was the stalker. It's a small world, I guess. "Oh wow." I laughed an awkward laugh and gave him back his mask. Why didn't he tell me before? I mean, what's so bad about his identity? I chose not to say anything more. I folded my hands on my lap. Now what? I didn't have alot of time to think about it before the stalker started his way into the kitchen. When he got off the couch, the couch creaked (probably from years of being sat on.) "So...ah... do you go to school?" I jabbed my thigh a few times with a clenched fist, as I watched him as he pulled something out of his freezer. "No." I wanted to ask "why?" and "Did you ever?" But I saw his face expression change to dark again... He was thinking about his past. I was so curious though. How did he turn out like this? Doesn't he have parents? He was only seventeen years old - one year older than me. He was still fresh... New to the earth. So much to discover than being hidden in the dark depths of robbing places and torn up doors. Part of me wanted to run while I still had the chance... But what would I do? No parents... I would be put in an orpahanage. But then... that sliver of me wanted to help him become more like the Weston I met at the grocery store.
I tried looking to see what Weston was making, but all I saw was a cardboard box. I got off the couch, with the couch squeaking and creaking, and went over to see what Weston was making. "Are those... tatertots?" I read the side of the frosted with ice, cardboard box. Weston had a cock-eyed grin on his face. "Maybe." He took out a pan and put it on the stove. He put the heat on 'high.' "You know," I started, "you're supposed to microwave those. It says so on the directions." Weston poured the entire box into the pan, "Well maybe I don't follow the directions." He smirked. "Try one." I took a tatertot out of the pot and spit it out on the floor. "I hate tatertots." Weston raised his eyebrows playfully, "Oh no you don't. Clean that up, don't be messy." I laughed to myself and grabbed a papertowel from the papertowel roll on the side of the sink. Weston opened up the freezer again and pulled something else out. When I looked up after cleaning up my chewed up tatertot, I saw what he had oulled out. It was a box of bacon. Weston raised his eyebrows even higher, "And they're all yours... Cuz I for one, hate bacon."