Jigsaw (NaNoWriMo13)

Seven

I stare at the note in horror. At the words that bleed into the too pink note paper. The words blur and blend into one, and I find that I still can't make sense of them. The paper shakes in my hand, and I find that I have to hold onto my locker to keep myself upright. My heart is thumping loudly in my chest, and I can feel the burgeoning horror and panic filling me up inside.

I know.

It is these three words that strike horror within me. A horror so profound, and so deep that I find I can barely breathe. I have been getting these notes for weeks. Sometimes they are post it notes written in red ink, with threatening sentences such as I hope you like being alone Or my favourite Prepare to lose everything.

Up until now, the notes had been turning up at my flat, rumpled up and stuffed through my letterbox, stuck on my front door, right over the peep hole when I left the flat in the mornings. Then whoever this, is, their tactics have changed. They became more dangerous, more desperate. I came home to find no less than seven notes shoved through my door, each inscribed with the same threatening message. Some where glued to the pages with letters cut out from newspapers and magazines, the message just as threatening, just as frightening.

As the notes became more frequent, I felt my sanity slowly slipping away. Any carefully constructed happiness that Evan brought along evaporated the moment my stalker, or tormentor stepped up their game. And here I am now, fighting the urge to throw the repulsive note across the room, to tear it into pieces and set it on fire. Instead, I slam my locker shut and lean heavily against the cold metal, taking several deep breaths.

Whoever is doing this – and I have an idea to whom it may be – they have stepped up their game. They're tormenting me at work now, the one place that I thought I could feel safe and welcome. I have the urge to run away again, to pack up and leave and start again somewhere else. There will be another Evan in another town, he'll forget about me soon enough. The thought makes me feel physically sick.

As I emerge into the main café once more, everything feels unreal, as if I have been disconnected from reality. I start clearing away empty mugs and saucers with shaky hands, dropping them several times with a loud clatter. Evan has retired to the office upstairs to do some paperwork, so it is just me and Tanya alone in the café... Well minus the five other customers who have come in for a cooked breakfast.

Tanya is taking orders from a mother with her young son. She looks bored as the woman chats animatedly and Tanya nods, popping her gum and writing something down on her pad. She trawls over to me and slams the notebook down on the counter, where I had been sorting the display. I jump and drop the cloth that I had been using to wipe the glass front.

“That woman over there wants two sticky buns. Do you think you can do it without messing up?”

I feel anger creeping up my throat, replacing it with the fear that has taken hold all day. I snatch the pad up off the counter and throw her my best glare. She snorts, obviously taken great pleasure in my distress. I turn away as I feel the tears creeping up on me again and pin the customers order to the wall where they all go. I grab two plates and the clean cutlery, placing it too hard on the counter so that the plates crack down the middle.

“Oh for goodness sake!” I scream, almost tearing my hair out as the loud crack echoes through the building.

The whole room seems to go quiet as people's heads snap up to watch my slow mental breakdown. Taking several deep breaths and trying to ignore Tanya's self-satisfied smirk, I turn around and clean up the mess that I made. I dump the broken plates in the bin and replace them with new ones, being careful to put them down gently this time.

By the time I have approached the customers with her cakes, I am frazzled and jumpy. I try to give her my best polite smile as I set the cakes down on the table with shaky hands. I apologise for my outburst, but just as I am about to turn away, she calls me back.