Page 27 of Hunting Pretty

I lifted my hand and the heavy metal object in it I’d kept hidden behind my back until now.

He lifted his hand as if to reach back out for me.

The old-school SLR film camera in my hand let out a flash as I took his picture, lighting up his face.

Shock registered on his features before they disappeared into the swallowing darkness.

For a few seconds I couldn’t see anything as my eyes readjusted.

My mind went into overdrive, imagining him smashing through the glass to snatch away the camera, to grab me, to choke the life out of me.

Instead, he stumbled back from my balcony door, a look of betrayal on his face.

I smashed down the panic button on my wall and an alarm erupted all over the mansion.

He shot me one last scowl, likethis isn’t over.

And apprehension filled my stomach. He was going to make me pay for this.

He leaped over the balcony and escaped down the ivy as footsteps thundered down the hall to my room.

I clutched the Nikon camera I’d borrowed from our newspaper to my chest.

Gotcha, you son of a bitch.

Lisa and I had fashioned a photography studio out of a large supply closet in our newspaper office.

The red glow made the hair that fell from my ponytail look drenched in blood. I tucked it back behind my ear and refocused on my work.

The chill in the air made me shiver as I agitated the developer liquid in the bath and it sloshed across a single sheet of photographic paper.

I liked watching the photographs develop. At first there was nothing, a blank page. But then a whole moment in time was there before your eyes.

Like a memory.

It made me believe that it was possible to one day bring my own missing memories back to the surface.

But this evening after classes, it seemed to take forever.

Impatience crawled under my skin, making it impossible to stand still.

My foot tapped against the uneven wood floor in a restless rhythm, and every second felt like an eternity stretching out before me.

Come on.

Then, like magic, his features began to appear on the paper.

My blood crystalized to ice.

There he was.

His sharp cheekbones, his dangerous stare, piercing eyes under dark hooded brows, the permanent snarl to his thick lips.

My intruder. My stalker.

Liath’s stalker.

Liath’skidnapper.

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