Stalker HS

Chapter 4

I wake up with a groan. I managed to flop onto the floor last night in my sleep. My nightmares continued throughout the night so I'm not surprised. Uncomfortably, I stood up from the floor and hobbled to my clothing drawer. I yank it open with a grumpy huff. I grab leggings and a random shirt for myself to change into. Once I'm dressed, I decide to start my day with breakfast and head down the steps.

I find the fancy box where I left it and the pile of photos as well. They make my attitude worsen and I take it out on a cabinet door. Swinging it open so hard it bangs on the poor cabinet beside it. I pull out my last packet of pop tarts and viciously rip them open. My glare steady on those pictures.

I would toast the pop-tarts. But my toaster is broken and I have no idea how to fix it. Unfortunately, I've never been as good at fixing things as I am at breaking them... So I just take a bite of the strawberry treat cold. My gaze wonders to the box again, tracing its details. Trying to internalize that this was real. Sometimes I convince myself everyone was right and I just want attention.

I frowned and get closer to it. Still wielding my now half stress eaten pop tart. My body leans forward to rest against the counter as I try to think. What to do...what to do? I tap my fingers against the countertop, hoping to conjure up some idea. Continuing to munch on my snack until it was gone. This was harder than trying to come up with a new job. Which I haven't been able to get for months I'd like to add.

Maybe I could go work at the market? I heard the baggers make a little over minimum wage.

Okay, bitch. Focus!

I start unlatching and opening up the red box again. If you've ever experienced shame heavily before, you'll know what I mean when I say my spirit just dropped to the floor. My stomach turned, my heart shattered. It feels like an explosion. One that slowly sets off another and another until everything in you is obliterated.

Shaking my head, I let my hand reach into the box. The camera is the first thing I touch. I play with the Polaroid camera in my hand for a bit before pulling it out of the box fully. Then turning it around and snapping a picture of myself.

It takes a moment before a black and white square came from the top. The photo developed after a while and it just showed me looking like an utter mess. Hair a mess, eyes looking wildly at the camera in front of me, you could tell I had cried, my oversized shirt exposed my bony shoulder. It was awful. I looked so unkept and so broken. My heart sank further as I looked at myself in the picture. Yet I dropped it into the box anyways, hoping it would still meet the stalkers expectations. Maybe a new backround would make the next one better. I carried the camera over to the living room, crossing one of my legs over the other while I sat on the couch. I took another picture of me making a goofy face and one of my mini fridge that sits unplugged by the couch. It still had the bow on it from when I got it from my dad as a birthday and housewarming gift. I smiled at the the picture when it finally developed. Afterwards I continued to take a bunch of random pictures of myself and the things around me. The camera was definitely fun to play with.

The amount of film in the camera was running low and I hadn't even taken one of what he asked for. He would be livid, wouldn't he? But what would he do to me? He's already taken everything from me to use as collateral. What could he possibly have against me now? I honestly didn't plan on finding out. I was too scared of the idea to even dare to try testing my boundaries with him ever again. After having my home and privacy invaded so many times by this person, I didn't know what to do. He's done so much to me and the people around me. I am terrified of him. I felt so defeated in this situation by now. I felt trapped. Constantly, I've been trying to fight to figure him out throughout the years. But it's hard when he's always two steps ahead of me. Mocking and laughing as I struggle to get away from him.