Stalker HS

Chapter 6

I woke up this morning with a heavy cough and my pillow on the floor. My head was killing me and I could feel my nose was all stuffed up. I must have caught a cold or something. A thermometer seconded my accusations on being sick. Time for a day of tv and filling out job applications online. I pick up my phone from the nightstand to check the time. 11 am. Perfect, I have plenty of time to be productive.

My body felt terrible when I stood from my bed. Whatever I caught, it hit me like a fucking brick. I hobble down  my stairs into the kitchen to get ahold of something to eat. Obviously, there still is very little for me to get into. But I still manage to find something.

I sat down on the couch with a cup of tea and a small bowl of ice cream. My laptop was sitting on the coffee table already, where I typically leave it. I planned to get some work done today, if it was the last thing I did. It's been long enough since I've even tried to land a new job out of pure hopelessness.

There isn't many jobs I could apply to with the amount of education I had. Cashier at MacDonald's, Bartender at Brett's Shack down the street, or a waitress/host at the fancy buffet about an hour's walk away. So, to make sure I got a job somewhere, I applied to all of them. The first to accept me will get the honor of having my great services. Hopefully.

For now, the television got my attention, though. I was done with what I needed to do, besides laundry. So I listened to the news and sipped the last of my tea. I choke on a drink when I see the annoying lady's report.

"Local photographer and painter, Harry Styles, seems to have found new interest in his gallery this year. His showing for his new pieces and photos will be at the Large Cup coffee shop, Friday evening from 3pm to 8pm. All items will be on sale for fans and visitors. These previews show great detail of the model he has been painting lately."

My eyes grow incredibly wide when the picture shows up on the screen. It's a painting of me, hair hiding my face, sitting on my couch, where I'm sitting on it now. Leaning over. I looked a mess in the painting. But it was oddly appealing to the eye somehow. The cup in my hand was cracked and chipped, the contents dripping out a bit. My jaw was on the floor. Harry Styles. H. Harry Styles is H.
There's no way this was a coincident. That looked exactly like me. As if this were a new way to taunt me. Was he planning for me to see this? To come to this event?

I was amazed that he could depict me in such a way without me literally posing that way for him. It was very beautiful and skilled work. But it was horrifying! I felt sick to my stomach watching the story unfold before me. The next picture came up, a simple glass ball, seemingly nothing to do with me. Some of the gallery featured me in different poses, most just showed paintings of random objects or scenery. I was utterly flabbergasted. How could he be so well known to my community, but not to me? How could I have never seen this shit before?

I had to go to this gallery.

Maybe my stalker would be there himself, then I could confront him. I take a mental note to go to the coffee shop for that event. It was so surprising to me that he finally slipped up. After all these years he finally slipped up. I could never figure it out before. But now his work was in front of me and everything is quickly unveiling. He's a photographer.

It made all the pictures he's taken make more sense. He could easily get away with walking around with a camera to follow me. He was know for working with them. He had an excuse to have that stupid camera he used to take so many pictures of me. The camera he probably left for me to use.

I huff and decide to look into him. I quickly type in his name and look him up. A picture of him is shown on the right of the google search page. A moment of sickening realization hit me yet again. That face. Those eyes. That fucking hand tattoo. The infamous H, finally unmasked. He's unfortunately as good looking as I'd thought when I saw him at the restaurant. I wonder if he has stalked anyone else. Most of the information is of his work as an artist. None of his previous work seemed to be of me. It was surprising that he had so much fame and is still alive. Most artists blow up well after death. I read into his little biography and discover he is 28. 5 years older than I am. My head starts to hurt again as I think about it. I was underage when he first started to stalk me... Creep. Before I know it, it's already dark again and I've been back and forth doing laundry and looking into Harry all day. HS you've been caught.

Finally, I just go and get into bed, changing into different clothes before flopping onto the comforter. Feeling satisfied that I haven't been bothered at all today. Even more so that now I had a name to my terrorizer and even more information than I've ever had before. I felt like I had been doing heavy detective work and that I found information on my own. Even if it all came to me. Something felt sort of wrong about this, though. HS, or Harry didn't seem like the type of person to be sloppy about this. He had kept this a secret for so long, how could he be slipping up now? Why would he release this work now? After I recognized his tattoo at the restaurant?

Edited by Serina :)