Crazy Stalker

Chapter 18 - The Art of Online Fighting

JAKE TAKES my laptop and sits down on a windowsill because that's the only place in my apartment to sit. I look over his shoulder to make sure he's not using my computer to look at porn or whatever bad boys do on a stranger's computer. He does all the usual things — he runs Norton Antivirus and looks through my activity monitor.

"You've got some viruses here," he tells me. "If you want to back up your documents, I can help you reinstall Windows. Though, it might be more useful to change all your passwords first."

"They've been calling me from a blocked number," I tell Jake as I show him the text I got earlier with my eyes crossed out. "I think they used an app to disguise where they are really sending these messages from."

"Probably," Jake says and whistles when he sees the doctored picture of me. "Any idea who that is?"

"When I answered the phone, it sounded like two teenage girls," I admit as Jake pushes his hair out of his face again. He's not a bad looking guy despite the huge bruise on his face. Studying his profile against the city lights, I think Jake has a very pointed chin for someone with such broad shoulders. He's got that boyish kind of masculine beauty like in another life he could have been in a boy band.

I don't want to say it because I am so not into Jake Villin.

Yet, the truth was staring me in the face.

Even though Jake's buff and scruffy in backstreets type-of-way, he's actually very pretty.

He has thick pouty lips and perfectly clear, tanned skin. I don't go for tall, dark, angsty, and handsome. My type (Nick) leans more toward extroverted, popular, sporty, and just-a-little rakish. Jake is like naughty boy overload. As Jake flips through different computer screens, some with scrolling commands and computer code, he looks a little too comfortable with this entire virus deal. I wonder where he learned to hack and if it's the same place he learned to beat up rowdy strangers in bars.

Perhaps, there are some questions you don't want to know the answer to in reality. To know Jake is to flirt with danger. The answers to those questions don't come without a price. There's something that pulls me toward Jake, though. It's the same kind of mysterious force that pulls me toward writing werewolf stories online, even with all the drama that comes with it.

Jake is the kind of guy adults warn you about.

I can see my mom's reaction now if she knew I spent my free time writing online. She'll put her hands on her hips and say, "Yes, that's nice, but do you earn any money doing it?"

Well, no. I don't.

And I know this hobby of mine can't go on forever. I know it, yet I still do it even though it's bad for me. It's never been so evident to me as it is now that I have stalkers who know my real name and address.

Jake is bad for me too. He scares me, just a little. I'm here in New York City to turn my life around, not to fall in with another bad crowd.

Then again, what's the point of being a teenager when you aren't allowed to make teenage mistakes?

Jake furrows his thick brown eyebrows as he types. "I'm going to install some patches to your antivirus. I guess short of wiping everything, that's about it. As for the phone calls, block or ignore them. The idiots will get tired of calling."

"What if they know where I live?" I ask and bite my lip. Yeah, that's what I am really worried about. What if they jump me as I walk to the subway stop in the morning? What if they're hiding behind the pile of garbage outside right this moment?

"What?" Jake asks and stretches as the virus scan finishes up. "You think these girls are going to fly all the way to NYC to kidnap you? All for writing some dumb stories? They're going to tie you up like the writer in Stephen King's Carrie and make you write a sequel just for them?"

"You don't think there's a chance of that?"

"Nah, there are millions of people who post on this site. No one cares about you enough to attack you on the street. Not even if you're WilderLuna15."

"I guess so."

"Hey, you're much more likely to be murdered by an ex-boyfriend than some internet rando."

"What? Like you?"

"Just joking," Jake replies and laughs. "Sorry, that was in bad taste. But seriously, do you know who it might be? Is it someone who is a part of your online life?"

"I think there's a couple of people who could be behind it," I answer and stare out my window into the darkness of the street below. It is starting to rain. The lights of the city fade into blurry glowing balls as rain pelts my windows. "It's a long story, and it's already late."

"It's Friday night," Jake replies and sets my computer down on the floor. "It's not like we have class tomorrow. Tell me."