Meet Kristal Jane Anderson.
The girl that feels as though she was stripped from all the joys of life on one ungodly night. A night that changed her whole perspective on love forever, a night in which she stopped believing in it's existence, a night...
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Kristal Anderson
The night was cold.
It was almost painful. The cold seemed to be penetrating right into my bones with every blow of the wind.
It was teeth chattering cold. And I just had to make the genius decision of not bringing a jacket. The thin fabric of my work blouse did little to protect my upper body and neither did my skirt.
I was nearly home though, I had to push through.
Everything was feeling eerie. The cold air combined with the emptiness of the roads was not a good combination. In fact that sounded like the perfect setting for a serial killer to act. Luckily there was no one in sight. Well at least not anymore.
There was a man.
He wore a full black outfit; a black hoodie that was only visible through the hood covering his head and most of his face, a black coat on top of it, black pants and black combat boots. His hands deep into the pockets of his coat.
He looked like the textbook description of a serial killer. He was walking on the other side of the street at a pace eerily similar to my own, he was taking the same turns that I was.
My body was consumed by a cold sweat the moment it clicked in my brain; I was being followed. This was how I died. My shaky hand slowly slid into my purse and I clutched onto the pepper spray bottle I carried with me.
Deep breaths. I kept telling myself over and over again, I needed to remain calm somehow. I knew that if he– when he– attacked and I was this shaken up I would freeze up and probably get brutally murdered and or kidnapped without a fight.
I managed to calm my breathing but when I looked to the side he was gone. I looked behind me, nothing. He had just disappeared.
Maybe he took a turn without me noticing. Maybe not all creepy looking men wearing a serial killer looking outfit were out to kill you. I tried to convince myself. Maybe he was just cold and he was just extremely prepared unlike myself.
My hand still had a tight grip on the pepper spray because part of me was convinced that he would just pop up in front of me or behind me. But he never did.
For the next few turns he was still nowhere to be seen. He had truly disappeared.
I stood in front of my house and I made sure to do a few extra takes around the neighborhood to ensure that no one was behind me, not a car or person or truck, anything that could be considered suspicious. Nothing. Nothing at all.
I walked in the house locking the door behind me just in case before I placed see my keys on the key holder.
"Aunt Jenna, I'm home!" I slid off my heels and placed them on the rack changing into my slippers.
