“Cheers mate,” the boy huffed before taking the ball and jogging back to the game.
He was nice to me, I thought, a peculiar tightness in my chest.
No-one but Mrs Richards had ever been nice to me.
A feeling of joy glowed from within me, even as one of the girls shouted loudly: “Wash that ball. Dirty Danny’s had it!”
Even people who didn’t know my mother turned their nose up at the smelly, wretched boy whose clothes were far too small. I was so used to a negative reaction that a kind, be it impersonal one, was still enough to make a child like me very happy.
I watched the game for another 10 minutes, willing the ball to bounce towards me again.
I felt the worst kind of disappointment as the boy suddenly waved and began to walk away from the game.
I’ll never see him again!
Without fully understanding what I was doing, just knowing I couldn’t bear the thought of never seeing the boy ever again, I stood quickly and followed the him.
The girls chanting followed me from the Park:
“Dirty Danny’s mum is a pros-ti-tute!
Dirty Danny’s mum is a pros-ti-tute!”
***
Since that day, I had been hooked.
I’d followed the boy to a well kept, large pretty home, the kind of home that I had walked past and pictured living inside a house so grand many times. I’d watched through a backyard fence as the boy had joined a gathering in his back garden, the smell of BBQ causing my empty stomach to groan loudly. I’d watched as a large man, whom the boy resembled, threw his arm around him heartily, squeezing the boy to his side and grinning widely at him. The boy smiled back, though he appeared embarrassed at the contact.
How would that feel? I wondered. To be loved, wanted.
The next 6 months I followed many people numerous times a day. I felt like, just for a short time, my own life didn’t exist. I could pretend to be this person, share their life, their errands, their time. If only for a short while, it made my own life more bearable.
It’d gotten me into a little trouble, nothing serious.
Once, I’d gotten lost after following a man on a bus having sneaked on behind a woman. It’d taken a long time for me to find my way home again. Another time someone unseen had yelled at me as I’d watched a family sitting around a large dining table eating a meal. This was the kind of scene I saw on the TV, to see that people actually lived this way, spent time together, eating and talking about each of their days both pleased and saddened me. I was pleased that it was real but saddened that I wasn’t a part of it.
One day, fate, circumstances, the heavenly powers that be, maybe even God himself, who knew, but someone up there decided I deserved a better life.
6 months after my obsession with following strangers began, I arrived home to find my mother’s motionless body sprawled in her bedroom.
I’d immediately dialled 999 from the home phone and waited outside for the police.
In spite of my tender age, I was embarrassed that the police were about to enter my ghastly home.
After that, many people had become involved in my life. I spent some time in a children’s home, just a couple of night’s when I was told my aunt was on her way to collect me. I had never known I’d had an aunt, and my aunt hadn’t known about me.
The whole family had turned their backs on my mother years earlier and no-one had known about me.
At first, everyone had tried to protect me from the truth of what happened to my mother, but the night I asked my aunt what happened to her, and she again told me I was better not knowing, I had admitted that I was concerned, concerned that when my mother was better, she would come to collect me and take me back to that house, that life.
I told my aunt I did not want my mother to get better.
My aunt had held me tightly and cried as she rocked me.
My jumper had risen slightly with the physical contact, physical contact that I enjoyed but was so unused to, and my aunt glimpsed the scars she had tried to encourage me to show her my first night there.
She tugged the jumper up slightly, tears in her eyes. “Let me see, Danny. Please.”
I allowed her to look at my back, my torso and she hugged me harder, squeezing and rocking me, telling me she was sorry, so, so, sorry that this happened to me, that she hadn’t been there. I held her back and cried with her, finally learning the feeling of being cared for, loved.
My life changed drastically.
My aunt and uncle doted on me. Better yet, they had three older boys of their own. Some people may imagine those boys may have been resentful of me for moving into their home, but each of the boys’ had taken me under their wings and looked out for me. I was many miles away from the house and street where I grew up and I vowed to leave that Danny there.
In spite of my new lifestyle and the many counselling sessions my aunt and uncle insisted I attend the first couple of years I lived with them, I had still never been able to stop following strangers. When I was younger I’d worried that I was sick in the head, that I was crazy since my life had improved so much, yet I was still unable to break my obsession. But as I’d grown older, I’d realised the urge to follow strangers occurred when something wasn’t going quite right for me, making me feel like the pitiful, pathetic old Danny.
Maybe a girl I liked didn’t know I existed, or I’d get a C on a paper that I’d studied very hard for and tried my very hardest for an A. I was popular at school, having many friends around me. My aunt and uncle were fiercely proud of my coping ability and I’d also built a strong relationship with my grandmother and grandfather, my mother’s and aunt’s parents.
I began to accept my obsession as a part of me and I told no-one about it.
As a man, it didn’t happen much at all, but since dating Becky, the urge to do it had come regularly. The realisation of this should have made me see that the relationship wasn’t good for me, but I couldn’t bear the thought of losing her.
All this floated through my mind as I headed for my van whilst keeping my eye on the stranger Michael.
I should forget this and go straight home, now before it’s too late.
But I did not go home.
When stranger Michael pulled his fancy car out of the car park, I started my engine and began to follow.
Chapter Three
I followed Michael to a semi-fancy restaurant and cocktail bar in the centre of town. I parked on the main road and watched him settle at a table outside facing the road. He made an order with a waiter then checked his watch as the waiter hurried away.
Business meeting?
I looked around the outside of the bar. It was certainly the right place for some sort of a meeting. Michael’s flash car, fancy clothes and the impressive engagement ring he’d given to his fiancee certainly made the young man look wealthy in whatever job he held.
Michael was looking at his phone and tapping the screen when a woman stepped up behind him and delicately placed her hands on his shoulders. He tilted his head back, a playful smile on his lips and she favoured him with a rather passionate kiss.
I gaped as the woman slid into the chair beside him just as the waiter arrived with two cocktails.
The woman was breathtakingly stunning.
A tall blond wearing a skin-tight short black dress that gave the impression she wore nothing underneath, she had captured the attention of everyone seated outside.
Even the women were staring at her.
The man’s a cheat!
Though the brunette had been lovely to look at, this woman was a complete knockout. This bloke really was a lucky bastard.
I watched as the couple kissed and laughed together, their kissing and touching becoming more and more inappropriate. At one moment, I saw Michael’s hand slide up her leg, her legs parting to give him access between them and my opinion of the woman slipped a little.
I decided I still wouldn’t have kicked her out of bed.
When the couple ha
d finished their drinks, which they actually finished in a surprisingly short time, they stood and began to walk away hand in hand.
I felt a strong pull of disappointment, like a child that has to leave his best friend’s birthday party before the blowing out of the candles and the cutting of the cake.
I’m gonna miss how it ends! Is he gonna spend the night with her or head home to his fiancee?
I couldn’t follow a walking couple in a van, not without drawing a lot of attention to myself so like it or not, it looked as if the night ended here.
I grinned with surprised elation as the couple entered the popular bar a couple of doors down. I had a good view from here and settled back in my seat. I amused himself for a short while as I watched other couples wandering around together. After a while though, it began to depress me.
I had never thought highly of myself and I wouldn’t ever be considered vain, but I couldn’t help but notice that even unattractive people had partners. It made me feel terrible to think such things, but at the same time it made me wonder why I couldn’t find that special someone.
I checked my watch and sighed. It was only 11.02pm. I prepared myself for a long wait, then jolted upright when I saw the couple leaving the pub nearly 30 minutes later. I hoped desperately that they were going to her place and not another bar.
My hopes rose when they approached Michael’s car, then I realised they may simply be driving to another bar or something.
I followed closely behind for a short while, then followed as Michael’s car signalled into an expensive apartment block not far from the town centre. I parked my van at the end of the car park, a brick wall behind me and watched the couple exit the vehicle which Michael had parked pretty close to the apartment block’s main entrance.
I assumed that this place belonged to the woman since Michael had a fiancee that he most probably lived with, but I figured it could well be his place if he and his fiancee were trying to be traditional. It seemed awfully risky though to bring your affair to your own place: what if a neighbour saw you? Judging by the way that Michael was pressing the woman against his car, his hands all over her body and one of her legs wrapped around him, he didn’t seem to be thinking of his fiancee as much as I was.
To my sudden shock, Michael pulled the woman’s dress down, exposing her breasts while he working his tongue down the side of her neck and chest. The woman threw her head back and even I could hear her moans from where I was.
My opinion of the woman changed completely in that moment.
When first compared with the brunette, this woman had won hands down on looks. The brunette was beautiful, but in a much less spectacular way. She dressed nicely, sexy but not over the top and possessed a shyness that I had found endearing, but not very exciting for a man of Michael’s apparent character. You looked at this blond woman and you thought of sex, you looked at the brunette and you thought of dating, getting to know her. She was the kind of woman that you wanted to make happy, you wanted to see her beautiful smile and know you were the one who put it there. She was long-term, wife material.
This woman, for want of a better word, was a slut, an easy lay with a wild streak.
Sure, sex with her would probably rock your world, but I believed she was the kind of woman you would regret spending time with after the fact.
I shook my head in disgust as Michael began to undo his jeans, but then the woman halted him and gestured to the apartment block.
Lo and behold, she did have some standards.
As I watched them hurry to the large double doors that served as the apartment blocks entrance, I wondered if the woman knew that Michael was engaged, then I decided she didn’t seem the type to care if he was.
The couple disappeared inside and I wondered if I was lucky enough to have her apartment located at the front of the building. I didn’t know whether to be happy or sickened when a light switched on on the second floor and the couple staggered into view. Michael immediately pressed the woman against the wall, both of them either to far gone in lust or beyond caring that the large curtains were wide open.
I could see everything.
I watched them for a couple of seconds as the woman raised her dress up to her hips and fumbled with his jeans.
I’ve had a problem with following people, granted, but I’m not a pervert.
I’d decided I had seen enough and was preparing to leave when movement suddenly caught my eye.
A hooded figure was standing beside Michael’s car.
Thinking of stealing it?
I watched the figure and the couple, my eyes darting from one to the other. A grin spread across my face. Wouldn’t that be a hoot if the bloke’s car was stolen here. He’d have to fill out a report and everything, the location of the car, the time of the theft thereabouts.
Good luck explaining that to your fiancee, pal.
Then I realised that the figure wasn’t interested at all in the car. Although the person wore a long dark coat with the hood pulled up, covering his face, he seemed to be looking up instead of down.
He was looking up and straight ahead, straight at Michael and the woman.
Oh, this is even better, I thought. Perhaps this is the woman’s boyfriend or husband.
Go on in mate, I thought excited. If it erupted between the trio, I’d have a front row seat.
The figure glanced left and right then headed for the entrance doors. I realised I was thinking of the figure as a he, when I hadn’t seen anything of the person’s face. Something about the way the figure walked made me sure it was a male. Though I supposed some women could walk that way too.
I decided to think of it as a man because it was more interesting that way when the dark figure reached the entrance, then darted back into the shadows at the left of the doors.
Remaining there, the man waited for a couple of seconds before re-emerging and standing staring through the doors. I was also keeping my eye on Michael and the woman. He had lifted the woman up against the wall and both her legs were wrapped around him. It was obvious from the way they moved that they were having sex.
“Come on mate, you can catch them in the act,” I muttered.
The man was still facing the doors and I began to feel impatient, then guilty. If this man was about to bust his woman with another man, he must be feeling all sorts of emotions right now: rage, anger, hurt. It was wrong of me to be enjoying the whole scene. Feeling like a shit, I saw the figure suddenly turn around.
He seemed to be staring straight out at the car park.
“Find your balls buddy,” I said encouragingly. “You deserve better than that anyway.”
I glanced up at the windows in time to see Michael and the woman slide down the wall and out of view.
“Come on, you can still catch them at it on the floor.”
When the figure didn’t move for what seemed like minutes but was more likely about ten seconds, I suddenly wondered what he was staring at. There were other cars in the car park, but all the residents had their own places located near the entrance doors. Whatever the man was staring at, it seemed to be in my direction. But there was a brick wall behind me, why would he be staring at that?
What if he’s staring at me?
The sudden thought made me shudder and raised goose bumps all over my body. I squinted and leaned forward in my seat. The more I stared at the figure, the more sure I was that the man was staring directly at me.
I’m parked under a frickin street lamp, no wonder he’s staring at me!
He can’t be staring, I assured myself. I’m just working myself up. His woman is up there boffing another bloke, he’s got far bigger problems that me sitting here.
The mental talking to did nothing to improve my opinion and I decided I’d had enough for one night. I leaned forward, my eyes still on the figure, when it suddenly moved. It slowly raised its arm, and pointed, right at me!
I gasped in shock and fright, jerking the keys in the ignition. I gasped in disbelief as the van re
fused to start up and I jerked the keys again.
When I looked up, I thought I might wet myself, the figure was now walking towards me!
“Oh shit, oh shit,” I gasped. I twisted the keys one last time and almost whooped with elation when the engine caught. The figure halted as I sped out of the space and exited the car park.
Driving away, I should have felt safe, but I didn’t.
My last glance in the rear view mirror had shown the man still walking slightly as he waved, waved goodbye to me as I sped away.
Chapter Four
He watched the car speed away and frowned. The man had been following the couple, just the same as he had. He knew why he was following them, but who was this man?
He turned and headed back towards the main entrance, trying to focus on the job at hand and not the mysterious stalker. Reaching into his pocket, he retrieved the security key needed to open the door.
People really were foolish when it came to their safety. Didn’t they realise there were people like him in the world? He let himself in and hesitated in the dark entrance. No sounds reached him, so he headed for the stairs. He knew the lift was working, but he didn’t want anyone to see him.
He didn’t want to kill more than necessary this evening.
He reached the floor and walked slowly to the front door. Reaching once again into his pocket, he pulled out the front door key he’d had cut just this afternoon. The stupid slut was so busy thinking about what man she’d be fucking tonight that she didn’t keep track of where she kept her front door key or her security key.
Hesitating slightly outside the front door, he pressed his ear against the door and listened. They’d been going at it hot and heavy in the living room the last he’d seen. If he walked in and they were still there, they’d see him for sure.
He did not want them screaming and alerting the whole block to his presence. Deciding he couldn’t wait any longer and risk a neighbour seeing him pressed against the door like this, he slowly pushed the key into the lock and gently turned. The door unlocked silently so he pushed the door open, alert for any sudden noises or movement.
Stalked Page 2