Shot Me Down

01 | The Guy With The Dimpled Chin

The guy with the dimpled chin is still stalking me.

It has been three days straight, he has followed me to my school, to my house and even worse.. to my favourite library.

I had tried to do something tricky in the morning. I called a bunch of my friends for a coffee at our local Starbucks, hoping that it would scare off the stalker, yet he came and sat on the table just next to ours, constantly glancing at me.

I am getting sick of this. I'm going to end it now, once and for all.

I walked alone into an isolated alleyway, something every parent tell their children not to do. Just to make sure, I glanced backwards with the excuse of sneezing. He was there. He had worn his usual camouflage jacket over his black shirt, and had a baggy jeans on. A cap which was a little too large for him covered his eyes, sending a shadow over his entire face. His lips were still bold red in the darkness, watery, like blood.

What irritated me the most was that the dimple on his chin, the only cute thing about him, was still dominant, as if he was smirking underneath the shadow of his cap.

I spun on my heels and faced him. He didn't even flinch. I took out my Swiss Army knife and pointed it towards him.

"Stop stalking me." I commanded.

He snorted. "You can't do anything about it."

I clenched my fists. "Tell me that after I cut open your throat." I snarled.

"Relax, girl, you don't wanna land yourself in trouble." He said, and started making his way towards me.

"Hey, back off before I-" My sentence was cut short by him as he quickly sidestepped behind a garbage bin.

I stood there, waiting. He would come out sooner or later. "Show yourself, you coward!" I shouted. I decided to make the first move as I slowly made my way towards the bin before kicking it out of the way and raising my Swiss Army knife in the air.

He wasn't there.

"Nice try, sweetheart." Came a voice from behind me. I turned around just in time to see him pacing away to the street with his stupid smirk in his face, flashing his dimpled chin.

I hate him. I hate him so, so much.

I ran behind him, hoping to get a glimpse of his car's license plate or something, but failed at spotting him in the overcrowded streets. People glanced at me irritatedly before elbowing me out of their way as I realised I had no chance of finding him in this mess of a crowd.

Muttering various cuss words under my breath, I jogged back home. I was moving away to the UK for further studies in a week, two days after my birthday party, and am relieved that I would finally be away from that stalker, but, what if he follows me there? What if he turns my life into a living nightmare by being there around every corner?

I reached home before I could finish that thought. Our house could nearly qualify as a mansion, but is nowhere near to be as clean as one. The lawn was overgrown with thick shrubs. The paint was slowly peeling off, leaving a greyish colour on the walls. Our house used to be perfect, when mom was alive. She made sure the gardeners and painters constantly kept our house in top notch condition, after all, she had to live up to the expectations of her being the founder of Ryder Fashionistas, the most famous and trending fashion brand out there.

After her death, of course, the company slowly died, leaving my father with huge debts, which he cleared once his own ammunition company, Thomas Enterprises, boomed in business. Since that day he has never been home for more than a few days, and keeps sailing to different countries trying to expand his business.