Aged Sixteen.
As I quickly walk down the long, country road toward my Nana's house in the darkness, I cling tightly to the stack of schoolbooks cradled in my arms. With my hood pulled up, I try to shield myself from the gloomy surroundings and stay focused on reaching home.
The chill of the freezing November air seeps through my clothes, making me shiver as I trudge along. The dense fog hangs low on the cold ground, swirling around me with every step, enveloping me in an eerie haze. Despite the tense atmosphere, I continue, determined to reach the warmth and safety of Nana's house.
I've only just arrived home from school, dreading the confrontation with Nana about my detention. As I approachthe house in the distance, the only one standing in the area, I mentally prepare myself for what's to come.
Keeping my eyes focused ahead, I attempt to push past the terror creeping up my spine because of the darkness surrounding me. The warm lights glowing from the windows of the house bring me a sense of calm as I draw nearer.
As I get closer to the driveway, relief washes over me, and my body begins to unwind from the tension. However, that feeling quickly evaporates when I hear a sound behind me—a whistle.
Shivers scatter across my skin as I freeze on the spot, my eyes widening. With a quick whirl, I turn around, scanning the darkness for any sign of movement. In the dim light, I catch sight of a silhouette—a dark figure lurking in the shadows. I narrow my eyes before shaking my head once, thinking I am just imagining things.
My breath catches in my throat as a mask suddenly brightens on his face, revealing two pink crossed eyes and stitches over a curved, creepy grin. The rapid flashing of the neon lights only adds to the horror, sending a wave of terror coursing through me. Before I can react, I manage to take a step backward, but it's too late. He suddenly darts in my direction at lightning speed.
With a petrified squeal, I spin around and sprint towards Nana's door. I don't dare to look back, but I can hear the heavy footsteps gaining on me. Finally reaching the door, I open it swiftly, but as I turn to close it, I catch a glimpse of him right there. I slam the door shut with all my strength and in one swift motion, I turn the lock before he can even get me.
My frantic, watery eyes scan the old oak door, my pulse pounding in my ears as I try to regain my breath. The silence thatfollows is deafening, heightening my fear as I cautiously lower myself to the ground, my hands trembling.
As I attempt to peek through the keyhole, my heart skips a beat when I come face to face with an eye staring back at me. Startled, I let out another squeal before falling back onto my ass in shock. My breathing grows frantic, and I kick my feet against the carpet, desperate to get away from the freak behind the door.
«Charli, eto ty?»(Charley, is that you?)
Despite Nana's distant call, it's all a blur, since I am too consumed by the terrifying encounter I just experienced. My eyes stay fixed on the door, my chest heaving with each breath I take, wondering who the hell that was and why they were chasing me.
Ihave only been at this university for one fucking month, and my new roommate, Lucy, is hounding me to come to a party with her tonight, but I am honestly not in themood; I am an introvert who prefers to spend Saturday nights alone.
The thought of being in a crowded space with young adults whom I don’t know, all off their fucking nuts on drugs and booze, sends a storm of anxiety coursing through me. She fails to understand the word "no," but the fear of being rejected by yet another potential friend due to my odd behaviors makes me feel trapped in agreeing.
Hiding behind a book I was supposed to be reading, I observe her getting ready in our small dorm room. She is undeniably pretty, with boundless energy that I secretly find exhausting.
With her fair skin, blonde hair, and tall, slender figure, she is the epitome of vibrancy, always dressed in brightly colored clothing—the opposite of myself, but I can't help but like her. She is clearly popular and free-spirited, with a huge circle of friends and family. Yet she treats me like a friend, even when she doesn’t have to, and it’s the first time in my lonely little life that I have felt genuinely wanted, aside from my foster parent, Nana, who passed away less than a year ago.
Suddenly, I am completely alone in my fucked-up life, or so I thought. For years, I have kept a dark secret—a secret I am too afraid to share, one that would only make me appear even stranger to anyone around me. I have a stalker—someone who is obsessed with me and has been tormenting me every week for around five years now.
I honestly believed that moving into this dorm would have given me some peace from the things I faced nightly at my Nana's house, but my hopes were shattered again this morning. While Lucy slept, I went into the bathroom and was greeted by a chilling sight: the word 'Mine' was scrawled on the mirror in what seemed to be blood, and the sink was filled with black rose petals, a haunting reminder of his presence. I quickly disposed of them and of course, some of them were scorched—a trademark of his twisted games. It seems his torment knows no bounds, varying in intensity depending on his mood.
He appears to be out of his element and behaving rashly ever since I moved into this dorm. There have been times when he left a black glove behind and the window was slightly open,which is unlike his usual ghost-like approach. Normally, he is like a shadow in the night, leaving no trace of his presence except for what he wants me to see.
Knowing that he has been that close to me, probably watching me as I sleep, sends shivers down my spine and an unbearable thrill running through my veins. It's hard to explain the mix of fear and twisted excitement he raises within me.
I know what he is doing is awful, and for all I know, he could be a balding old man, but there is a deluded sense of flattery in knowing that someone out there is so infatuated with little ole me in such a messed-up way. I used to tell myself that someone was just messing with me, so I would try to set traps to catch him in the act, but I was never successful. He is far too clever.
It all started when I was sixteen years old and moved into my Nana's house—an elderly Russian woman who took me in and cared for me with unwavering kindness. It was the first time I felt loved by anyone, but it was also the first time I noticed the love notes, poems, and black rose petals among the black origami swans.
He refers to me as his 'little swan' or 'birdy,' which irritates the hell out of me, but they have gotten far more explicit over the past year. He never fails to express his need to fuck me, how he craves to strip me of my innocence and claim me as his, which always arouses a variety of emotions in me. I have only seen him physically twice in the last five years, but both times he wore a mask with a black hoodie and chased me, but I never stopped for a second to confront him, I was horrified.
A lot of the time, I find myself asking myself the same questions: why me? Why has he watched me for all these years? I am no onespecial; I have nothing to offer, yet he seems to know every little detail about me.
He is well aware that I am a virgin, and whenever I am feeling low, he leaves notes telling me how he can bring me happiness, attempting to cheer me up on my down days. It’s as though he is constantly inside my mind, plucking my dark thoughts and fears from the depths of me, only to rewrite them back to me poetically on black burnt paper with a white pen. His intrusion feels like a violation, making me feel exposed and vulnerable at all times.
Lucy suddenly turns to face me, and I swiftly hide behind the book in my hands, hoping she will forget I am here and leave me alone in my own darkness.
“Charley, you have to get ready; we don't have much time until Chaos’ after party.”
Chaos is a rising New York City rapper who, at the age of twenty-seven, will undoubtedly become worldwide famous within the next few years. He is extremely talented, and while my musical tastes edge more to the darker side, his rapping speaks to me, and I actually really like it. I suppose that is the only thing I will enjoy tonight.
I groan while I lower my book beside me, swinging my legs over the bed and she talks excitedly.
