I felt the grains of sand beneath my feet as I walked along the shore. I was finally alone, so I considered the simple walk to be “me-time”. I loved how the ocean breeze was cool against my skin and had the slightest scent of sea salt. The ocean breeze had such a calming effect on me that at night, it easily lulled me to sleep. I also liked when it happened to be the perfect day with a cloudless sky. Today was one of those perfect days.
There were few people on the east side of the beach, where I usually hang out. My favorite place to stand was at the water’s edge and for some reason it helped me clear my head as I stared at the movement of the ocean. As I started to walk away from the water, I heard shouting and laughing coming near me before something knocked me to the ground. “Ay! Watch where you’re going! ” I shouted at the silhouette that looked somewhat like a male, towering above me. I saw a sun-kissed-tan hand reach out toward me to help me up but I ignored it, stood up, and brushed myself off. He looked about a year or two older than me but when he talked his voice sounded mature “Sorry, I didn’t see you there”. When he spoke a set of flawless white teeth flashed behind thin yet robust lips. I could see that he had a strong bone structure in his face and nose that looked almost too perfect. I could barely make out a pair of piercing yet wise blue-gray eyes hiding under the shade from the visor of his fedora hat.
This stranger became a face that I begin to see everywhere. It wasn’t just illusions or my mind playing a trick. It was like he became a stalker.
* * *
The stalker. My stalker. He was the only thing on my mind and I never stopped thinking about him or who he could be. I never forgot his face, especially because i saw him at places like the beach, supermarket, stores, on a walk, in a car, and basically everywhere I went, he was there. Even in my dreams I saw his icey eyes that were always there, behind me. I tried to remember if he was someone from my childhood that I might have met or had known my parents. Was he a distant family-member that made an appearance at my mothers funeral eleven years ago? I remember when the doctor told announced to us that she was diagnosed with cancer to the cold, September morning as if those days were yesterday. It was raining as the wind blew my hair into my face, trying to wash and wipe the tears that were running down my cheeks, away before they could fall onto the black dress my mother once made me. The dress and the black sweater, that she bought for me as a New Year’s present, was the only thing that provided my 7 year-old body warmth. I nestled my face into my father's jacket and clung tight to keep from watching the black coffin being lowered into the ground. My father was my only support to keep me standing before my weak knees could have the chance to collapse under me and prevent me from running away. Thanksgiving was harder on my father than my birthday was on me.
I did not remember him at all. He was not a distant memory, just a mysterious stranger.
I spotted him again, as i started walking home from school on Monday. He was on the phone, leaning against a nearby tree, in some kind of foreign argument. Luckily his back was facing me, so thats when I decided to run. I ran around the corner that was two blocks away from school and crossed the parking lot of the supermarket. As I slowed my pace and was crossing the intersection by the church, I saw him approaching the the supermarket parking lot. I pulled up the hood of my hoodie onto my head then turned into an alley and started to run again.
I was starting to go into an unfamiliar area as the alley turned a corner into a poor neighborhood. There were many empty soda cans and wrappers on the ground as i started to count how many I’ve passed so far and kicked some to the side so I would know which road I’ve already been down. I tried to think if there was another way out of the unfamiliar neighborhood and started to to memorize the roads I crossed as I looked both ways. I kept running down the road, turned left then right, down a few more blocks and another left until I approached a group of men then began to walk slower as I passed them. There was six or seven men, all of them had large tattoos on their arms and were mumbling and chuckling as they took turns glancing at me. A few shouted at me things like, “Hey babe, where ya going?” or “Are you lost, sweetie? Why don’t you come over here so we can help you?” but I ignored them and started to pick up my pace as the grip on my bag tightened. That's when I noticed they started following me.
