Page 45 of Stalker's Toy

Nothing.

Just empty sidewalks and parked cars.

"You're being paranoid," I whisper to myself, but the unease lingers.

I continue walking, my pace quickening.

The sound of my heavy footsteps on the pavement seems too loud in the stillness of the night.

I can't shake the feeling of being watched.

It prickles at the back of my neck, making my skin crawl.

Is it guilt?

The weight of what I've done with Henrik?

Or something else entirely?

I look back again, my heart racing.

The shadows seem to stretch and warp, playingtricks on my eyes.

"It's nothing," I mutter, "just your imagination running wild."

But as I turn the corner onto my street, I catch a glimpse of movement.

A figure, maybe fifty feet behind me.

Male, from what I can tell.

My breath catches in my throat.

"Shit," I hiss, fumbling for my keys.

My building looms ahead, a beacon of safety.

I pick up my pace, almost running now.

The sound of footsteps behind me grows louder.

I reach the door to the building, hands shaking as I try to fit the key into the lock.

"Come on, come on," I plead, glancing back.

The man is closer now, his features still obscured by shadow.

The lock finally gives, and I practically fall inside, slamming the door behind me.

I lean against it, heart pounding, listening for any sound from outside.

Silence.

Was it all in my head?

A product of my guilt-ridden, overstimulated mind?

Or was someone really following me?

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