He's following me. I know it. I feel it. And if my instincts are wrong -- which they've yet to be -- the man is right around the corner. I brave a glance back and see nothing. This doesn't give me any comfort, because I'm sure he's still around somewhere.
I'd heard the sounds of his footsteps right after I'd left the grocery store. I know what he sounds like -- this isn't the first time he's stalked me, after all. I wasn't scared before, but I can't face the possibility of an attack without seeing her again. She's waiting for me back home.
I inch toward a wall nearby and bend down. My eyes closed, the senses in my ears erupt as the sounds of feet meeting the pavement ring through the ground. As do the thumps in my heart beating hard against my chest.
I don't stop for the possibility of him finding me here. Seeing an open marketplace, I gratefully enter to find it packed even at this time of night.
In here, I push through the crowd to find its center, certain I'll lose him in the throngs of people rushing from all sides.
Their faces cross in a blur, but I feel so very exposed standing here, as if waiting for a pair of hands to grab me any moment.
I recall the last time I'd seen his face up close. He'd been full of murderous intent even then.
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I remember how determined he was to take me and her. How I had to run for my life so she and I could get away. I don't know how, but if he's found me, he's even more relentless than before.
The thinning crowd serves as a reminder that no one's come for me, so he might have lost my trail.
Relieved, I move over to the counter and purchase a bottle of water. It hasn't trickled down my throat two seconds before I see him.
He's bounding toward me through the crowd. A glint protruding from his sleeve tells me it's a knife in his hand. He'd been waiting this whole time to get me in the clear.
I splash the contents of the bottle in his direction. He raises his arms on instinct, but gives away the weapon in his palm. I hear a woman's shriek as she witnesses this, but slip out the door without stopping to see further.
I thunder across the road with my house in mind. I have to be certain she's still there, if the man hasn't gotten to her already. Flashes of our last confrontation race through my mind as my feet move further.
He was monstrous in his rage, an anger I'd never seen and hoped to see again. Those eyes alone could have carved a hole straight through me. My arms had flailed around with the knife to protect myself, giving him that gash on the cheek that was now resting on his face as a scar.
He's been relentless in his pursuit for her; I wondered in that moment if I could get out alive. It was only through determination that we'd escaped him, or perhaps a little luck as well.
