Airel - Aaron Patterson [27]
I stopped instantly and looked with wide eyes at the man who stood in between me and the safety of my home. He had short, blond, hair and stood well over six feet tall, with a muscular build. He was wearing a black leather jacket and blue jeans. My heart was in my ears. All I could think about was getting out of there. I turned the other way and ran, going past my next door neighbor’s house, stumbling over their sidewalk on the way. I ducked into their side yard and ran for the back.
Now I was petrified.
It was the same man from the theater. I was sure of it. How did he find me? What did he want from me? I thought I knew the answer to that, but couldn't bring myself to say it or even think it. I scrambled over my neighbor’s fence and ran across their backyard, circling around toward my house again. I stopped at the gate and quietly unlatched it. I could see part of my front yard through the crack. I had to get back inside my house where it was safe, but it wouldn’t be safe if the killer knew I was there.
I had to get closer if I was going to be able to see anything. My house had the perfect shrub to hide behind. I got down low and crept out the gate along the side of my house, hugging it closely and squeezing behind a large evergreen shrub. I parted the branches to look out. I was safe enough as long as he didn't see me. Airel, you are being reckless and putting your life in danger. What are you doing? I peered out and looked around.
He was gone.
The mailbox sat with the door open and the flag up, but no one was around. I looked up the street and back down again. I couldn't see the killer anywhere. Was he hiding, just waiting for me to show myself? Then a horrible thought struck me. He might be in the house.
I waited a few minutes and finally decided to risk it and make a dash for the front door. It was only a few feet from where I was hiding and even if he was waiting, I could probably out-run him.
Taking a deep breath, I jumped up, ran to the front door, and burst inside, slamming the door. I couldn't believe I didn't wake anyone up with that racket. I looked around the kitchen and living room as I stood with my back against the front door, gasping, trying to catch my breath.
Everything was quiet. I sank to the floor and put my face in my hands. I wanted to cry, but I was too mad to let it escape. Who did this guy think he was? Coming to my house and scaring me to death.
So much for going back to sleep. Then I heard the sound of footsteps on the porch. I scrambled to the island in the kitchen and ducked behind it. My heart beat in my ears and after a breathless minute I peered up and saw the shadow of a man looking in the window.
I gasped and clamped my hand over my mouth. He didn’t see me and turned and walked away. I stood up and watched him walk down the sidewalk and disappear around the corner. The mailbox door stood open.
Chapter XV
The note was written in the most elegant cursive I’d ever seen, yet it chilled me to the bone.
I know what you are!
I stared down at it. I sat down on a bar stool heavily. What did it mean? I know what you are. Shouldn’t it say who you are—? The killer was leaving me notes and following me to my house and I was fully creeped out.
What could I do, though? What would I do?
I decided, for the moment, that I was overwhelmed enough to go back to bed. I was suddenly very tired. I trudged upstairs and plopped down onto my soft bed, pulling the covers up to my chin. As my body began to calm down and the bed began to warm up, I relaxed. I began to drift off to sleep, even as my mind raced with how to handle my bigger-than-life problems.
I didn’t know who to talk to—the police? My dad? My mom? What should I tell them? Exactly how much could I reveal, even to my closest friends and family, without sounding totally insane, even to them? Could I tell the detectives about my stalker, the murderer? I mean, should I?
What about this note, though, and what if they wanted