Moving to a new place was a big thing for me. 3 hours away from home, 3 hours away from the town I loved, the house I grew up in and the ex boyfriend who had been the thing to drive me away. In a way I was looking to escape.
New start, new life, new me, that was what I decided when I moved away.
It was going well within 6 months I was doing really well at my job, I’d even started dating this new guy, Paul, who was everything my ex hadn’t been man enough to be. He was polite and kind and loving but with just the right amount of “I’m a man”. Things were going so well that I didn’t even really realize when things started to go wrong. At the time I’d just assumed the things that were happening were small coincidences, just little problems that happen every now and again, it wasn’t until I looked back on it that I realized that it was all building up to something big. Something that has left me half the woman I once was.
It started off just small things, like I’d be certain that I’d left the book I’d been reading on my bedside table but when I found it it was next to the bath, the picture of me and my mum that I had always had on my fireplace had somehow fallen and smashed, food that I had left in the fridge would be gone when I went to look for it. As I lived alone I knew it couldn’t be anyone else. At first I thought I was just being careless, then as more and more things happened I started thinking that something wasn’t quite right, I was so certain that I had turned the tv off before I went to work and that I’d left my favorite necklace in my jewelery box. I called Paul up one day after work and asked him to come over and help me look around for signs of a break in. He kindly obliged even though he thought I was overreacting.
“Babe, I know you usually have it all together but sometimes people make mistakes, sometimes we just forget things.” he told me to try and placate me. I knew he was right but something just didn’t feel right about the situation.
He stayed with me for nearly a week but as we’d only been dating for a few months I didn’t really want him to get caught up in my potential “craziness” so when nothing happened for a week I told him I was ok and he could go home. He kindly told me if I needed anything to ring him at any time. I honestly hoped that I wouldn’t need to.
The night he left I stayed up watching TV. I was a little anxious but told myself that it was just an overreaction. I was so tired that I drifted off halfway through a film. I woke up at 4 in the morning with a blanket over me that hadn’t been there before. All the other odd things that had happened had been when I’d been out of the house, this freaked me out more than normal. I grabbed my phone of the side and rang Paul straight away. As it was ringing I realized maybe I’d got the blanket myself in my sleep, maybe that was the answer to everything. When Paul answered he sounded worried. I told him what had happened and what I thought it was and apologized for waking him up.
“It’s ok babe, I was awake anyway.”
Feeling slightly better I said goodnight and got myself into bed.
Two days later I was chilling after work just watching TV again. It was dark outside and I had all the curtains drawn. I couldn’t be certain but I thought I heard someone moving around outside. I tried to shrug it off, maybe it was a dog or a cat. It continued intermittently for half an hour, I had talked myself out of being scared until suddenly a loud bang on the window shook me to the core.
Phone in hand ready to ring Paul at a seconds notice I hurried to the front door to make sure it was locked. It was, I also made sure that all the windows were closed. I rang Paul, he was sweet about the situation and came straight over. The knock on the door startled me again but I realized that it was only him, he had gotten there quicker than I’d expected him to. He asked me for a torch and went around outside looking for anyone, he even shouted out a few times but there was nothing.
