Pretty Piece of Flesh
She saw him sitting on the stairwell out front. He was on the last step with his back to her, but she knew who he was right away. She had never taken for granted that daylight was any safer than nightfall and just felt grateful that the boys weren’t with her.
She wondered if he planned to move off the stoop to let her pass or if he were just going to grab her leg as she stepped over him. She knew he heard her coming but he remained very still. Heather didn’t have to worry about what would happen when she passed him. She couldn’t even move.
She stood frozen in her spot half inside, half outside the exit of Dr. Angel’s building and tried to block out the screams inside of her head. Finally, he stood slowly but still made no effort to turn and face her. As he reached his full height, Heather felt her senses start to tingle with an uncomfortable familiarity. A deep heat rushed toward her fingertips and shocked them into numbness when he did turn around. Her stalker just stood there staring at her and her fear threshold broke down completely. Without realizing it, she took two steps backwards and barely controlled the stumble that played with her ankles.
She cut her eyes up to her doctor’s window and willed him to look out but he never did. Upon a new wave of icy fear, she realized that all other noise and motion had been muted. The only sound she heard was the fabric of stalker’s jacket colliding with the blast of wind that suddenly whipped passed them.
“I don’t understand,” she asked in a whispered croak.
“I know but you will,” he replied.
Humor etched itself into his features and it angered her. She was tired of men getting off on her fear.
“What do you want?” she asked.
“I want you,” he answered without hesitation.
“Why?” she asked, fearing the answer.
“You have something I want.
“Well, you can’t have it,” she stammered, hoping she sounded less terrified than she felt. She half expected a swift backhand for her disrespect
Her eyes darted around the parking lot. Although she continued to pray that someone would come along soon, Heather had the uneasy feeling that the rest of the world had stopped. He was somehow controlling everything in time and space as he held her courage in the palm of his hand. Heather worried she would lose hope in the shadow of his power.
The memory of his smirking face as he dragged her down the interstate made an unwanted appearance. She pictured him wrapping his hands around her throat and squeezing the life out of her and wondered if he expected her to run or fight.
“It looks like one little girl has finally found her voice,” he mocked.
“What do you want?” Heather screamed.
He half grunted, half barked and she was horrified to discover it was his laugh.
“I want what should have been mine, that’s all,” he said.
Confusion mingled with horror and Heather wanted an answer.
“What are you saying?”
“Your choices are powerful,” he said. “They always were. But this time, it’ll mean nothing.”
She felt as though they were having two different frightening conversations. It made no sense that this man who had terrorized her for so long would think she had any power on him. The realization that the same person had committed all of her attacks had been hard enough to wrap her brain around. Now, she had to accept that she held some sort of power over the madman of her nightmares. She wished she knew what it was right then so she could destroy him with it.
She shoved her hands into her jacket pocket to look for something sharp and hope deflated like a popped balloon when she only felt only a cough drop. If she could go back in time, she would pocket one of the tacks she saw pinned to a clipboard at the bookstore. Or she would lift Jade’s nail clippers with the small scissors attached. What remained of her hope started to dissolve faster than an antacid tablet dropped into cold water. He pointed toward Dr. Angel’s office.
“Do you really think he’s helping you?” he asked.
“Yes, I do,” she said, eyebrows lifted in surprise.
Heather wasn’t sure how much he knew about their sessions and became embarrassed just at the thought of him listening in.
He pulled his beige trench coat tighter and knotted the tie that had been hanging loose during their conversation. The sight of it drew pictures of a noose in her mind. He started to walk away slowly and she began to breathe easier in anticipation of his departure. Though she knew he still had the opportunity to grab her and drag her by the hair to his car, she felt certain it wasn’t her time yet. Still, she continued to eye the offending jacket tie.
“What’s wrong?” he asked smiling.
Visions of his tie being tightly pulled around her neck stole her vocabulary and she couldn’t answer his question. She could only