Fear

34

It's cold outside. Nothing new. Typical Manchester weather. Rain lashes the pavement, hard enough to bounce, and the air has that distinctive smell of wet tarmac, car fumes, and curry from the Indian place two doors down.

Mum's ordering haddock and chips at Cheng's Chippy like we do every Friday — it's the family tradition. I'm standing behind her, damp trainers squeaking on the tile floor, hoodie sleeves pulled over my knuckles to keep warm. The windows are all fogged up with condensation, and the smell of vinegar and hot grease is thick in the air.

The Chinese man behind the counter takes our order, but I don't hear what he says, what Mum says, or what any of them say.

My eyes drift to the single table in the corner. No one ever sits there. No one eats in.

But this time, a man is sitting there alone. Dark hair, stubbly beard, bit of a moustache, black leather jacket. He's eating chips from a white polystyrene tray, slowly, as if not really hungry. A newspaper is propped open beside him but he isn't really reading it.

I watch him curiously, swaying my hips because I can't stand still. He doesn't look at me.

Something about him makes the hairs on my arms rise. He looks... odd.

I turn away and shiver hard. Mum makes a comment about me not bringing a proper coat. The bell on the chip shop door jingles as she steps outside.

And just before I leave, I glance back at the man.

He looks up. And I see his eyes for the first time.

Black.

Not just dark brown. Black irises. I can't see his pupils.

He smirks.

"Emily?" Mum says, pulling her jacket over her head to shield herself from the rain.

And then we're gone, walking back to the car.

I never told her about him.

———

And that's how they started. With that one small memory. It seemed like nothing at first, and I wasn't even trying to remember. I was sitting on the floor in my room with my back to the wall and my knees pushed up to my chest.

I used to think I remembered everything that mattered. Now I wonder how many times I was blind on purpose.

It started slow, more like a daydream. I remembered Mum's voice first. I had a moment. Cried a little. I missed her.

Then, randomly, that memory came to me. The chip shop. That Friday afternoon.

That man.

He didn't look like Tyler. Nothing like him.

Except for the eyes.

And once that memory resurfaced, more seemed to follow.

So I sat there, in a trance, reliving these memories that weren't meant to mean anything and wouldn't have been notable before.

Seconds later, I was in Tesco...

———

I'm with my annoying kid brother, Alex, and he's being useless, leaning on the trolley like it's too much effort to stand. His face is buried in his phone, earphones on his head, faint metal music thrumming through them. One ear is uncovered just enough to hear me.

I'm holding a packet of pasta in each hand, asking which one he wants, Conchiglie or Farfalle, and he just shrugs without looking up.

My phone rings in my pocket. I pull it out and glance at the screen, getting irritated.

Unknown number. I don't answer. Never do.

I sigh dramatically and toss Conchiglie into the trolley, before pushing it around the corner. The left front wheel is doing that annoying thing where it jams if I push it too hard. Alex slowly follows behind.

Then I freeze.

There's a man standing in the middle of the next aisle. Phone to his ear. Looking right at me.

Something about him feels wrong. Like I know him from somewhere but can't place it.

Murky blonde hair, clean shaven, familiar features and... black eyes.

He's talking to someone on the phone, but I can't hear him. I get creeped out and decide to skip that aisle.

I move away and pretend it didn't happen.

But I remember it clearly now. And it dawned on me, in my room remembering it all, who that was.

Then, just when I thought I'd figured it out, another one resurfaced. And this time, I actually spoke to him...

———

I'm walking Charlie, the neighbour's yappy Jack Russell Terrier, while Mr. Kennan is on holiday.

It's one of those dreary mornings in the park where the air tastes like wet leaves and everything smells faintly of mud. I've got my Uggs on, Levi's, and a warm jumper.

Charlie's trotting ahead on the extendable lead, tail up, sniffing every tree. I'm scrolling aimlessly through my phone, listening to music, barely paying attention.

That's when I see him up ahead. On a bench, this time.

He's wearing a dark coat, hood pulled up, a book in his hands. But again, he's not reading.
Just sitting there, pretending to.

Then Charlie stops. His whole body goes rigid. He growls. Low. Threatening.

I frown. "Charlie?" I say softly.

The dog doesn't move. Doesn't wag. Just stares. And it's weird because he's usually really friendly to everyone, greeting random strangers like they're long lost friends. But not this man.

He doesn't look up. Doesn't acknowledge us. Still, I feel like he's listening.

"Sorry about that," I murmur awkwardly as we pass.

The man nods. Barely. No words. No smile.

Charlie keeps turning back to glance at him a few times as I walk on.

———

At the time, I just thought it was strange, but didn't connect any dots.

Each of these memories happened weeks or months apart, yet he was always the same man and always had black eyes.

Back in my room, back in the present, I stared at a blurred point in front of me, unblinking, chewing my cheek. I didn't cry. Didn't scream. Just sat there, hands limp in my lap, heart thudding in the hollow of my chest.

He was there, and I did nothing. Because I didn't know. Because I couldn't possibly know.

Not once. Not twice. Three times. And maybe more.

I never remembered him because he never wanted me to. Because he wore different clothes, different hair, different faces. Because he knew how to hide in plain sight.

But the eyes gave him away.

I thought it started at the club. But it didn't. He was there long before that. A year, maybe longer. Watching. Waiting.

And I think he was choosing me. Not in a moment or a single night. Over time. Piece by piece.

Tyler had stalked me.

And I was only just realising that I'd noticed.

But the scariest part?

I still don't know how many times I didn't notice.

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