Stalked

Chapter Six

When I got home, Mom, Jack, and Ethan were waiting at the kitchen table for me, steaming bowls of chicken noodle soup in front of them. Ethan got up and quickly took hold of the arm Josh didn't have and they ushered me to the table. I wasn't sure if it was my imagination or not, but Ethan seemed to be holding onto me longer than was necessary. I shot him a look and he went back to his soup. My mom got me a bowl and ladled some of the homemade-heaven-in-a-bowl and placed it in front of me. I blew on it, stirring it around casually, when I got a weird feeling. I looked up and everyone was staring at me expectantly, eyebrows raised .

"What?" I asked confusedly.

"How are you?" Jack asked curiously.

"Honestly," I said tiredly, "starved."

Ethan laughed, Josh shook his head and my mother and Jack both grinned. "They don't feed you enough at the hospital!" I said defensively.

"Or you have a bottomless stomach.." Josh said, smirking.

"It's not bottomless," I said, protectively putting my hands on my stomach, "it's just needy."

We finished our soup and I got fed up with chasing the remaining broth with my spoon, so I picked up my bowl and drank the whole thing. I felt really full and round like a roly-poly so I sat in my chair longer than everyone else. I was feeling very amiable, a feeling that usually occurred to me after a nice homemade meal like the one I had just gobbled up like a wolf who hadn't eaten in days. My phone vibrated in my back pocket and I shifted to get to it. It was Lucie, asking me if I made it home safely.

That triggered an entirely different train of thoughts - the mysterious stranger.

It was something that was always on my mind, like an alligator just below the surface of the murky waters of my mind, creeping, waiting.

Whenever I got a text, I would automatically think it's from him. I now associated black with him. If I saw someone in a hoodie - God forbid a black one - I thought it was him.

My day was one of the most boring days of my entire life. And trust me when I say, I've had plenty of those. I couldn't go anywhere, mainly for two reasons: I didn't have a car - the thought still made me cringe, my baby all dented and in a shop - and I wasn't allowed to drive for a month. The doctors had told me to wait two weeks, but my mother didn't trust me and I guess it was a form of punishment to tack an extra couple weeks onto it.

I moped around all day until it hurt to stand and my mom made me lay down. Ethan came to visit me after going out with some friends and he brought a movie with him.

"What movie are we watching?" I asked curiously.

He winked at me and said, "You'll see."

We sat in a somewhat awkward silence while the FBI warning passed and suddenly, the beginning of Iron Man started. I squealed with excitement. I was in love with superheroes! Robert Downey Jr. was definitely a bonus as well.

The movie was longer than I remembered and by the time it was over, the sun had set, leaving a navy blue blanket dotted with shining stars and the occasional airplane. Ethan helped me up the stairs and into my room and then disappeared down the hallway into the guest room that he usually used. I sat down on the edge of my bed and ran my hands over the plethora of fleece blankets I owned. I lifted my legs up slowly so I was now sitting up on my bed, and leaned back into the depths of my favorite pillow. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the feeling of my blankets, my mattress, my pillow, I missed it more than one would think during my hospital stay. My room radiated safety and warmth, something the hospital lacked.

The hospital - even the thought made me cringe - reminded me of death and change. The whole atmosphere was oddly calm on most floors. Nurses chatting and bringing meals to patients, families greeting one another... It was just too serene and it was unnatural. Behind closed doors, people were suffering and dying, and you would never be able to tell. Not from the way the nurses had a complete poker face in the halls.