Stalkers: A Dark Romance Anthology

by Ally Vance

  Sometimes, insomnia gets the better of me and that’s when I tend to do home improvements with what little I have. My hands were torn and bloodied by the time I was done, but I had managed to do a good enough job that I know that it’s useable as a chair back for now.

  I rub my eyes one more time before I sit down on the crate and prop my feet up onto the mattress. I lean back cautiously, but when the drawer barely moves, I relax and stare at the wall behind my bed.

  If I allow oblivion to swallow me whole right now, I’ll be able to focus my thoughts where they count the second most.

  And that’s on Charlie.

  I could have had him tonight, I think with a heavy sigh as a feeling of calm begins to wash over me. I get to my feet for a moment, walk over to the dresser, and retrieve the head of the mean man’s dick.

  Once I’m comfortable on my chair again, I begin to gently pass it back and forth between my hands.

  I should have taken the rat after it ate his insides. I think Grace would have liked that more than this, but any kind of gift is better than none at all when there’s been so much thought put into it.

  I didn’t know it at the time, but I took this for my sister. When she started to act differently she would bring me little dead animals and make me promise not to tell Mama and Papa where I got them from.

  And I never did.

  Instead, I adorned my room with the beautiful gifts she would rip to shreds with her fingernails and even some that she gutted with her teeth.

  That’s how I knew I could use mine as well as she did.

  She took me with her into the woods behind Mama and Papa’s house once. We raced quickly into the field, her laughter echoing through the trees, my grim silence answering her. I wanted to keep up with her, to not let her out of my sight because I was so worried she’d hurt herself, but Grace had always been taller and faster than me.

  When I finally caught up to her behind a giant, mangled tree that we nicknamed The Hangman’s Tree, I saw what she had done.

  She was on her knees, a small deer trapped under the weight of her body and she was using her teeth to rip out chunks of its flesh. When she was done, when the exhaustion took over her, I let her fall against me, and I used my hand to gently brush her hair.

  She looked so beautiful: pale-skinned, wide, manic blue eyes, white-blonde hair that had been matted slightly by the blood and sinew.

  But it didn’t matter to me because she trusted me enough to hold her, to take care of her when she seemingly couldn’t do it anymore, and I cherished that.

  I always will.

  Forever.

  Chapter Four

  I’m startled awake by a knock at the front door. I hadn’t even realized that I had fallen asleep, but I welcome the deviation from it.

  Usually, I don’t dream.

  I just walk through landscapes made up of nightmares: worlds where Mama and Papa are still alive, ones where Grace is always just out of my reach. My penance is constantly paid in the Hell that waits for me on the nights I dare to sleep, and because of that, I welcome insomnia like the dear friend that it doesn’t even realize it is to me.

  Knock, knock.

  I grunt as I get to my feet and rub my neck as I walk out of my room. A crack of sunlight touches my feet when I head into the hallway which means that one of the window slats has dislodged slightly. I make a mental note to fix it when I’ve gotten rid of whoever is at the door.

  “Just a minute,” I call out in a froggy voice when the knocking persists.

  I close my eyes for a moment, using the palms of my hands to rub them quickly before I reach the door.

  “Who is it?” I ask softly, as I press my ear against the rotten wood.

  Knock, knock.

  “Who is it?” I inquire again, a little louder this time.

  Bang! Bang!

  I jump slightly as I take a step back, my breathing becoming slightly labored. I know I shouldn’t open the door since I won’t be as nimble as I think I’ll need to be, but if someone wants my attention so desperately that they knock so goddamn much, then the least I can do is—

  I let out a scream and shut the door as quickly as I opened it. My body slides down to the floor and I wrap my arms around my legs as I begin to rock back and forth.

  “It’s not real, it’s not real.”

  I repeat it like a chant, my eyes closed tightly as the banging persists.

  “Go away!” I scream at the top of my lungs. I grab fistfuls of my hair and begin yanking as hard as I can, screaming and screeching to drown out the banging, the vibrating of the door that I’m pressed again.

  It’s him.

  He’s still alive, the rat is still trying to burrow its way down his gullet, and his dick is still bleeding.

  He tried to grab me before I closed the door. His eyes were angry and the umber in them looked like dust. He had a hand guarding his dick, to keep me from doing any more damage, or from finishing the job I had started.

  He found me like they all do.

  “Stop!” I scream at the top of my lungs as another series of knocks rattles my mind and body.

  And then, it’s over before I know it.

  The banging, the screeching, the pain of pulling at my hair as violently as I can, it all stops.

  That’s when the back of the chair gives way and I tumble onto the dirty, wooden floor of my bedroom.

  It seems that my nightmares are becoming much more realistic.

  As a fresh cascade of tears begins to fall, a horrible realization begins to fall over me.

  I’m running out of time.

  I’ve been staring at the wall behind my bed for the rest of the midnight hours straight into twilight. Any time I felt myself becoming tired, I’d reach up and yank on my hair.

  Since it always helped me wake up, it should also help me stay awake.

  I roll my neck on my shoulders wondering when I’ll be able to sleep in my own bed again.

  The answer to that is simple enough, but I know I’ll only ever feel like I’ve earned that again when I’ve found Grace.

  Until I can get Charlie to tell me where I can find her, I won’t be able to give up.

  He’s the only one who has the answers I need.

  I reach down and wipe away the debris from underneath my thighs. I’ve been sitting on the front porch waiting for the sun to rise.

  Being inside made me feel too susceptible to having another nightmare, and I don’t want to go through that again, especially not so soon. That’s what did Grace in; too many fucking nightmares and not enough people to tell her that it was all going to be okay.

  I tuck my hands beneath my legs and grunt slightly when a splinter breaks loose from the porch and pricks the top of my hand. The logical thing to do would be to get up and move to a different spot, but I like where I’m sitting—it allows me to see everything and everyone that goes by.

  Not that I ever pay much attention.

  Except on garbage days when the nice man comes by with new trinkets for my home.

  Other than that, I usually have my eyes to the sky or the ground, my head in the clouds, and my heart buried six feet under where it’s belonged for an awfully long time now.

  I lean forward enough to be able to place my forehead against my knees and then I sigh. I can’t help but think of Grace again. Lost in the world somewhere; alone and probably still believing that no one loves her. That was a sacrament that my parents bestowed on her before they shoved her out the door.

  That no one could ever care for “wicked little girls” like me and her.

  Clearing my throat, I close my eyes for a moment.

  Reade loved Grace in his own way. At least that’s what I like to think, and I know that somewhere in that muddled brain of hers, she believed it too.

  As for me, I’ve never found enough room in my heart for anyone other than my sister, and since we’ve been torn apart for all of these years, I can almost swear only half of it still beats inside of my chest.
/>   It will be okay, I think tiredly.

  Charlie may not want to talk to me when he sees me watching him, and he may not want to let me get close to him ever again, but he’s the key to the chamber of sorrow I feel, and I’ll force him to open it one way or another.

  Chapter Five

  “Karolina?”

  Fuck.

  I fell asleep again without meaning to but at least I’m not in the company of strangers this time.

  I sit up and rub my eyes and let out a yawn as I wait for the figure in front of me to come into focus. Usually, all I see are blurs, nothing is ever in stereo, and colors sometimes elude me, but when my eyes finally start to take in the welcome sight in front of me, a small smile curves the edges of my lips.

  “Hi, Garbageman,” I greet my friend softly. He chuckles as he sits down on the porch next to me and removes his jacket. It must be a chilly morning, but I’m used to low temperatures, so it never really bothers me. He reaches over slowly to carefully drape his jacket around my shoulders then waits for me to fully wake up.

  Garbageman is patient with me. I think it’s because he can see the emptiness in my heart through my hollow eyes.

  “Jack,” he offers softly, and I grunt.

  That’s right; Garbageman has a name too.

  “Sorry,” I mutter.

  “It’s okay. I thought I would mention it again in case you forgot is all,” he assures me with a chuckle.

  I raise my eyes toward the massive green truck he drives, the hum of the engine finally registering in my ears before I turn to look at him.

  “I wish I had something for you today,” he begins quietly, “but I’ve been off for a week on vacation. You can keep my jacket though if you like it.”

  My eyes turn away from him as I look down at my toes. Wiggling them, I turn my face slightly to inhale his scent on my new jacket.

  “Jack,” I muse softly to myself. “His name is Jack, like a jacket.”

  “Have you eaten lately?” Garbageman asks me curiously.

  I shake my head as I tuck my hands beneath my legs again and dig my fingernails into the flesh. Hunger pains can always be diverted by hurting myself in different ways.

  “Wait here, okay?” he directs, and I nod without looking over at him again.

  I have to remind myself that he gives me presents because he’s nice and for no other reason.

  It’s what keeps him safe—and me too.

  “Here,” he says when he returns. He eases a brown paper bag into my lap as I begin to rock back and forth slowly. “It’s my lunch; it’s not much but hopefully it’ll hold you over for a little while.”

  When I don’t make a move to open the bag, when my body keeps moving back and forth, Garbageman clears his throat as he leans over to open the bag for me.

  I lean forward and sniff the aroma wafting up from inside, suddenly feeling slightly faint from the hunger, then dig my nails further into the flesh of my thighs.

  I watch out of the corner of my eye as Garbageman undoes the clear wrapper around his sandwich. He then tears away a piece and holds it gently to my lips.

  “Open up,” he encourages me softly.

  I finally raise my eyes toward his again as I part my lips just enough so that he can slip the piece into my mouth.

  Garbageman’s eyes startle me like they do every time I see them.

  They’re as blue as a clear sky, and the crinkles around them when he smiles makes him look even kinder than he is. His face looks younger and clearer each time I see it, and I like the way his nose slopes to a point. The color of his hair reminds me of a butterscotch candy I once found half-eaten on the street, and I’m willing to bet anything that it feels just as smooth.

  I begin to chew slowly, and he leans back and waits for me to finish my bite. It’s the first time I notice the colorful art on the right side of his neck, and when I lean forward again, my lips parting for another piece, I see that he has more on the top of his hands.

  “Like them?” he asks in a hopeful tone when he notices my staring. I turn my face away and begin to chew my new bite slowly.

  “The body is a temple,” I recite after I’ve swallowed down more of his lunch.

  “Temples are never empty though, are they?” he reasons in a wise tone. “Most have stained glass windows, pretty statues, and art inside. Mine just happens to be on the outside is all.”

  “Sinner,” I accuse in a subdued tone as my eyes fall to my toes again.

  “Everyone is a sinner in one way or another, Karolina. But that doesn’t mean we still can’t be friends, does it?”

  The tone of his voice is still hopeful.

  Hope.

  Something I knew existed, but something that constantly eludes me when I try to find Charlie, and I dare to hope that he can lead me to Grace.

  “So, listen,” he starts, his tone changing slightly, “I’ve gotta get going so I can finish my shift, but I was wondering if it would be alright if I came back tonight?”

  I wiggle my toes again as I inhale deeply. I want to say no because I need to find Charlie, but Garbageman is nice to me.

  “I don’t have to go inside,” he offers quickly, “I was just hoping I could take you to dinner is all.”

  I lean over and open my mouth slightly, but instead of placing another piece of the sandwich into my mouth, Garbageman reaches for one of my hands and gives it to me to hold.

  “Think about it, okay? I’ll come back later on this evening and if you want to accompany me to dinner, all you have to do is open the door. And if you don’t, no big deal! I’ll still see you in a week.”

  I lean my face down and rip a piece of the sandwich off and begin to chew it quietly as Garbageman gets to his feet. My body has finally stopped rocking back and forth and I think it’s making him feel better about his chances tonight, but I haven’t decided yet.

  My sister will always be the most important person in my life, no matter how kindly anyone else may attempt to treat me.

  “Garbageman?” I call out quietly as he reaches the end of my broken walkway. When he turns to glance at me with a raised eyebrow, I drop the sandwich into the paper bag and get to my feet. “Knock six times, three different ways so I know it’s you.”

  A big smile spreads across his lips and he nods before he turns and heads for his truck.

  I wait until he gets in, and when he starts to drive away, he honks the horn a couple of times which I know will anger anyone still sleeping.

  But I still raise a hand and wave at him quickly.

  Maybe if he can teach me to be normal, I can show Grace how it feels when I find her again.

  Chapter Six

  I empty the gallons of water I managed to walk out of the local grocery store with a few hours ago into my metal basin. Thou shall not steal, I scold myself over and over until all three of the plastic bottles are empty.

  I’ll beg a god that hates me for forgiveness after I go out with Garbageman and hope that maybe the great cosmic man in the sky will hear me for once.

  And if he does acknowledge my whispered prayer, then I’ll know that I can ask to be reunited with my Grace next.

  I toss the last bottle to the side and clear my throat as I step into the basin. I scoop some water up in the palms of my hands and reach up to dump it on my hair. I don’t think I have any shampoo and conditioner left, but I’m hoping that enough water will help get at least some of the oil out.

  I wrap my arms around myself as I rest my cheek against my bended knees. I shouldn’t have even considered this, but Garbageman is the only person that I’m starting to see clearly. His essence stays with me after he leaves unlike most I come across, and it would be nice to have a good meal for once.

  Don’t close your eyes.

  “I won’t,” I promise her.

  Grab the cloth and clean yourself up, then get dressed and wait for him.

  “Okay,” I agree softly.

  I reach over the side of the basin and pick the rag up from the floor,
dip it into the water, and begin to wash myself as best as I can.

  The next time I go to the grocery store, I’ll have to get more soap, but much like my hair, I hope the thought will count enough for him to still want to be seen with me.

  After I’ve run the damp cloth against my body a few more times, I scoop more water over my head. I’m feeling tired sitting here and it means I’ll fall asleep if I don’t get up and find something to do until Garbageman gets here.

  I’m looking at my reflection in the tower of pots I set up in my bedroom. Since I don’t take the lantern out of the room, I knew this would be the only place to try for a little light and to see how I look.

  I swallow the lump in my throat.

  Because my other dress is still soaking in the bucket, my little black dress is the only other option to look somewhat decent. I reach down for the hem and try to pick off as many blades of grass as I can. I never did remember to wash this after I came back from the cemetery and I’m hoping he won’t mind it if he happens to notice.

  A few moments later, a knock at the door gets my attention. I assume it’s Garbageman since the sun went down about an hour ago.

  Is he nice?

  “Yes.”

  Do you like him?

  “He’s nice.”

  I give the top pot a gentle push and listen as it clatters to the ground. A few seconds later, another knock in a different sequence greets me as I push the pot away with the toe of my shoe.

  I turn to glance at my bed briefly before I tuck my hair behind my ears and walk out of my room. Once I’m in the hallway, I lean my body against the wall and take a deep breath when the third series of knocks echoes back toward me.

  I wait patiently and when the fourth sequence of a fist rapping against the door fills the otherwise empty air, I start to walk down the hallway.