Everywhere he went, she was there, a shadow lurking in the darkest corner; a face in the crowd; a loner on a park bench; a solitary figure watching him from across a busy street. He had never seen her face up close nor heard her speak. She was a constant presence only he could see or feel, and this unsettled him.
At home, Elijah would find himself glancing over his shoulder, and it didn't matter whether he was taking a bath or taking a pee; having dinner in front of the TV or going to sleep. He felt like a five-year-old boy who needed to check under his bed before he could even close his eyes. Every day, Elijah had to live with the dread of seeing her bony figure in that tattered yellow dress, her legs and feet caked in mud. His greatest fear was that she would sit next to him at some public place and touch his hand or sit in front of him in a coffee shop and finally reveal her face. He couldn't see her eyes. But Elijah need not, for he could feel them on him wherever he went.
Elijah was used to women chasing him. He was a strikingly handsome man in a rugged and buccaneering way. He had high cheekbones, a strong jawline, a wide sensual mouth, a hawk-like nose, and heavily hooded eyes curtained with thick lashes that made him appear sleepy or mysterious. His long hair was always loosely tied back in a man bun, and he would swagger into a room wearing his rockstar confidence like a statement T-shirt. His fans, mostly women, would follow him everywhere, flocking to his side to ask for an autograph, a selfie, or a date. They would shower him with adoration, send him gifts, and write him love notes.
He enjoyed the attention.
He had had one or two stalkers in the past. Probably more. But he had bodyguards to do the work for him. Now, there were no bodyguards to throw off the woman who would watch him from a distance, sit across the room from him, and stand still in the sea of raving concertgoers. As if they could.
No one had believed him when he first talked about her. And no one would believe him now that he had been reduced to this cowering nervous wreck. He had lost friends and had become estranged from his family. This growing paranoia over this unseen woman drove away suspecting, jealous girlfriends and frightened off potential lovers. Elijah was all alone.
"You see her, too, don't you?"
Elijah shifted his gaze from his stalker to a child sitting next to him on the park bench. She was a young girl of about 10, with thick dark bangs hiding one side of her skinny, craggy face, but he could see her all-knowing brown eyes boring into his from behind a huge pair of round black rimmed spectacles.
"Who are you?"
"My name is Abigail," the girl replied and extended a hand which he took tentatively into his. Her hand felt tiny and fragile in his rough and trembling grasp. But it was warm, and this made Elijah feel glad.
"Don't worry, I'm a real person. I see people like her every day," she said drily.
"What do you mean?'
"I see what people don't usually see."
Elijah regarded the child quietly. He didn't know if he was going to believe her or not.
"Look, I have a gift. Like a psychic, you know. I'm not here to con you or anything like that. I've been watching you stare at that tree for ages, and when I came and looked...I knew."
"Since I could see her, too, does that make me psychic then?" Elijah chuckled.
"No," Abigail shook her head slowly. There was a tone of sadness in her voice. "I think she has unfinished business with you."
"Unfinished business?" Elijah asked. "Abigail, do you think you could help me?" He felt ridiculous asking a stranger—a child at that—for help, but he was desperate for answers. Elijah would seek help from anyone who were willing to believe him.
"Abigail!"
They turned to see a heavy-set woman with a big gruff voice charging toward them.
"I've been looking for you everywhere!"
"That's my Aunt Em," Abigail looked at him apologetically.
"Was she bothering you, sir?" The woman named Em inquired.
"Not at all," Elijah reassured the woman.
"I have to go," Abigail whispered. "Don't be afraid. She needs you to find the courage to face the truth, so she can finally have her peace."
Abigail's aunt scoffed.
"Look," the woman said brusquely. "Don't believe everything this girl tells you."
That night, Elijah found himself perusing newspaper cut-outs he unearthed from a grandfather's chest that had been locked away in the basement for months. All the articles showed a picture of a 25-year-old woman with a beautiful oval face framed by a river of silky brown hair and a smile so incandescent that it could light up an entire room. She was wearing a canary yellow dress, the same one, according to the articles, that she wore on the day of her disappearance. Her name was Ava Dominguez, a university student, loving daughter, and avid fan of the famous rock band Black Zion. She was never seen again after the night of the Black Zion concert.
He remembered her. She was there in almost all his gigs and concerts, not that he could remember all the faces in the crowd, but she had always made her presence known to him. She would sneak backstage to his dressing room. She would send him flowers and letters declaring her never-ending devotion to him. She would watch him dine with his girlfriend from the window of his favorite restaurant. He would find her in a parking lot, waiting for him next to his car. Sometimes, he would see her standing outside looking up at his bedroom window.
On the morning following Black Zion's last concert, Ava vanished. Elijah hadn't meant for her to disappear. But it happened.
Elijah remembered driving home a few hours after the concert. He had a few drinks and was feeling a little dizzy. Nevertheless, he managed to maneuver his vehicle through the twist and turns that cut through the woods on his way home. But his phone began to ring incessantly. He bent over to pick up his phone until his car rammed into something hard, accompanied by a loud crashing sound. He looked up and was horrified at the ghastly sight of a woman in a yellow dress pinned against a tree, her eyes wide open in shock, blood oozing out of her nose and mouth. Ava was holding a cell phone to her ear.
He got out of the car and did what every man would've done in the height of panic and fear. He hid Ava's body.
Elijah found himself sitting in the corner of a bleak and gray windowless prison cell. He had finally called the police to confess everything and led them to the little rose garden where he had buried Ava. Elijah leaned back against the cold prison cell wall and smiled. After a very long time, he thought, he will have his peace. But his smile quickly faded as he saw Ava Dominguez, his number one fan, standing in the dark, watching him.
