After hours of traffic, twenty-seven year old Blake finally made it to her Brick home apartment in Manhattan, New York. She ran up the front steps and fumbled for her keys. For the past few weeks, Blake had been noticing some weird things, like random notes left on her door step with creepy messages like “Hello Blake, you looked lovely today” or “I want to be your friend.” These creepy letters eventually turned into emails, and no matter how many times she created a new address, the person would always email her again. She eventually stopped checking her email. The emails were the smallest part of her worries. She’d be in the shower and swear that there was someone outside, waiting or whenever she lied in bed she’d hear doors slowly squeaking open. She promised herself that she’d report these things to the police but she was always too busy with work. She found her key quickly and made it into her apartment.
The first thing she noticed when she walked in was the aroma. It smelled of Cajun seasonings and a type of olive oil she had discovered at a small shop in Venice, Italy last summer. She closed her eyes and drank in the scent. It had been so long since the last time she had a delicious home cooked meal. Then suddenly it hit her. Who was in her house? She lived alone. Surely no one expected could be cooking in her house. She slowly made her way to the kitchen with an umbrella she got from the rack by the front door. One step at a time she walked down the short flight of stairs into the living room. Her heart was beating so loud that she swore whoever was in her house could hear it. She stopped at the door and hesitated. Was it a good idea to enter the kitchen? Should she go for help? Blake ignored these impulses and entered the kitchen.
When she entered she noticed two things. One, the stove was still on and two, whoever was in her house, was certainly not in the kitchen. She gazed into the pot and found boiling pasta and a smaller pot of tomato sauce cooking. She quickly turned the stove knob to avoid the ticking sound being heard and turned off the stove. At this point Blake was more pissed than she was scared. She wasn’t sure but she thought she heard glasses tapping together in the dining room so she made her way in that direction.
There at the head of the dining room table was a man with a face mask on, pouring wine into a glass. He was tall and blond and the only thing Blake could pick out from his face was his eyes they were Icy pale green eyes; that the kind that looked freighting but enticing at the same time. He wasn’t big and bulky but he wasn’t skinny and flimsy either. The man wore a black turtle neck sweater rolled up to his elbows and short black leather gloves, and from the way his legs were folded, Blake could see that he had on khakis and black shoes. She was entirely speechless. In a bolt of the blue, the man removed his mask and began to speak.
“Blake” he said excitedly. “How are you!? You don’t call, you don’t write.” He said as he laughed at his own joke. Blake however, stood speechlessly at the entryway. “What Blake? You seem surprised! Didn’t you get my emai-“ The stranger paused as he began to realize the reason why Blake was unaware of his visit. “Ohhhh, someone hasn’t been checking their email I see.” The stranger laughed hysterically.
“Who are you and why are you in my house?” Blake questioned with an obvious bravado. The stranger stopped laughing almost instantly.
“Blake, it’s me. The one you dream about at night, the one that makes you fumble for your keys when you get home at night, the one that sniffs your clothing while you shower, and the one that watches you while you sleep. Blake, I’m your...”
“STOP! I’m calling the police.” Blake said as she rushed past him to the telephone.
“On no you don’t Blake.” The stranger said as he raised a gun to her head.
She stopped dead in her tracks once she heard the clicking of a gun. She had an instant flashback of her entire life. She saw her fiancée leaving, her mother sting in her home lonely while Blake’s wild teenage sister was never home. She hated herself for being too busy. She knew that if she made more time for the important things, she would have already reported this creeper for the emails, she’d still be in contact with her family, and her fiancé Drew wouldn’t have left her over a month ago. She slowly turned around and came face to face with the barrel of a revolver. She put her hands up as a sign of surrender.
“Okay, I’m sorry. Let’s just talk about this over dinner.” She said with a plan in mind.
The stranger’s eyes lit up. “Of course Blake, that’s all I wanted. Why don’t we go finish up in the kitchen?” The stranger turned sideways to allow Blake to go ahead of him, but he kept the gun in his hand. Blake turned the corner into the kitchen and quickly picked up a knife sitting on the edge of the counter. When the stranger entered, he looked at her funny. She slowly slid the end of the knife into the back of her pencil skirt and pulled down her blouse to cover the handle.
“Where should we start, it all smells so good” she said nervously. The stranger stared at her for a little longer before slowly answering.
“You can start by going over to oven and taking out the garlic bread.” He said.
She followed his directions and watched as he placed the spaghetti and sauce onto two plates. She took two slices of the hot garlic bread and put them on the plates. She got some of the sauce on her hand and licked it off. She felt that the sauce needed more salt so she reached over to the grinder and twisted it a few times over her plate and the strangers. Then, to decorate, she sprinkled a few basil leaves on top. She didn’t want to admit it to herself—or the stranger—but she was actually enjoying herself. Minus the fact that there was some random man in her home with a gun, she was glad she was cooking. It reminded her of the times she’d sit in the kitchen and pour ingredients into the pots and pans on the stove while her mother was cooking.
She missed her mother and began to feel homesick. It had been almost five years since the last time she visited her mom and sister and it wasn’t under happy circumstances. It was her father’s funeral in Boston and all she remembers about it was running out during the ceremony and driving back home to New York. She knew they needed her a lot but she could never muster up the strength to go back. They’d call on some occasions but it was never enough.
“Blake?” the stranger questioned.
“What?” she said as she popped back into reality.
“The plates, I asked if you would carry them into the dining room.”
“Oh! Yea, sure.” She responded a bit embarrassed.
She noticed that she began to move at a normal pace. She was no longer rushing or hurrying away from the stranger, nor was she slow and hesitant. She carried the utensils and balanced the plates on her arm. She placed her plate at the opposite end of the table and watched as the stranger took his seat across from her.
The stranger dug into his plate of spaghetti before realizing that Blake had mentally strayed away from him again. Instead of calling her several times to get her attention, he put his fork down and looked up at Blake sentimentally.
“You miss them don’t you?” The stranger questioned.
Blake looked up, caught off guard she responded, “What?”
“Family.” He said. “Your fiancée, your mother and father, your little sister, the friends you’ve kept since the ninth grade. They’re all gone and you’re all alone.”
“I beg your pardon! I’ll have you know that I am a successful woman. I am the owner of the world’s top fashion headquarters, I am—“
“Alone.” The stranger finished for her. “You see Blake, you’re just like me and I’m just like you. You do what you have to do to make sure you’re the best at all times. The people around you think that you’re this way because you’re selfish and snobby and like to work them to death. But you know what Blake; I think that the reality is, you’re scared. You’re scared of failing, of being weak and alone but you don’t even realize that you’ve already failed in being alone and because of that, you are already weak.” The stranger said calmly.
There were no words for the way Blake felt. She was speechless. Here she was in front of this complete and total stranger whom she’s never had a conversation with, and he was reading off her life as if he had found her diary. She couldn’t even defend herself. It was true; every last bit of what this man had said to her was true, and all she could do was cry.
The stranger began to feel sorry for Blake. He stood up from his seat and walked over to her and stooped beside her. “There, there Blake, It’s okay. I know exactly what you’re going through and that’s why I’m here. I’m going to help you, help the both of us.”
“How are you going to do that?” Blake said slowly in between her sobs.
“He took out the gun that he had stashed in his pocket and said, “First ill shoot you and then you’ll shoot me. We’ll never have to live with the regret of losing the ones we love or the fear of failing. Do you know why, Blake? Because in committing suicide, we’ll already be beating everyone else to the task. They want us to fail Blake; they want to see us suffer for the times we made them suffer. Do you think Drew really cared about you? If he did, he wouldn’t have left, but you see, I care Blake. That’s why I’m doing this. So what do you say Blake? It’ll be quick and easy, and you can still make it to heaven because I’ll be the one to take your life. Don’t worry about me. There’s definitely no hope for me, I know I’m not making to heaven. So let me help you. Are you ready Blake?”
Blake sat quietly and pondered his proposal. She couldn’t say she had never considered this option. She found that after Drew left her, she thought about death even more. Blake shook her head at the idea. There were people who needed her; she couldn’t be as selfish as to take her own life. The thing with Blake was, regardless of how people felt about her, she honestly believed she was a blessing to the earth. She couldn’t stand the thought of everyone having to live without her brilliance; she was just too selfish to give it all up.
Blake’s life was at stake and if there was any hope in her escaping, she was going to have to act now. “Okay” she said to the stranger and she slowly held out her hand to the stranger. He took it and grasped it tightly. She stood up and gave Blake room to stand up. She quickly grabbed the knife out of her skirt and stabbed the man in his neck and she ran.
The stranger yelled in agony and began to shoot.
“WHY, BLAKE? ALL I WANTED WAS FOR US TO BE FREE! ALL I WANTED TO DO WAS HELP YOU BLAKE! HELP US! YOU COULDN’T ALLOW ME TO DO THAT, BLAKE?! YOU COULDN’T DO THAT FOR ME!?” He said as he stumbled out of the dining room and into the kitchen like a drunken man.
Blake took cover behind the kitchen island. She was scared for her life and she knew there was very little chance of her making it out alive when this man had a gun and she had nothing. She heard his footsteps as they started their journey around the island and began to circle around it as well.
“That’s why he left you Blake! That’s why Drew broke off the wedding, because you’re worthless Blake, and you’ll never amount to anything!”
Blake stopped crawling. She couldn’t let this stranger come into her house and let him win without a fight! She thought long and hard about how she could beat this guy. Without even thinking, she picked up a vase on the mail table by the island and threw it. The stranger ducked and dropped the gun. It was an equal distance away from both Blake and the stranger. They both glanced at each other and made eye contact, then in an instant they both dogged after the gun.
The stranger had more of an advantage because he was standing and he made it to the gun first. He picked it up and turned quickly to corner Blake.
“I’m so sorry this ended this way Blake, I truly am.” He said as he raised the gun and pointed it at Blake. She squeezed her eyes shut and bit down on her tongue hard. There were three gun shots. Blake didn’t feel any pain. She just waited for the white light described on television and the harmonic angels and a golden chariot waiting to take her to heaven. When it didn’t come, she opened her eyes to find that she hadn’t even been shot and the stranger was gone.
Blake quickly woke up from her dream. She looked to her left to find Drew slightly snoring beside her. She noticed that on the television there was some story about a psychotic man who had escaped a ward in New Hampshire about four years ago. The police on the television said they believed he has been in New York. She was familiar with the story because she’d seen the story back when he escaped. She disregarded the story and thought about her dream.
Something about it made her very uncomfortable. It felt so real. She could’ve sworn it was actually happening. She decided she needed some water. She slowly traveled out of bed and to the kitchen. She walked to the cupboard and filled a glass then drank it.
She stood facing the sink for a while before rinsing the glass and putting it back into the cabinet. She turned quickly and was face to face with an intruder. She had the sudden urge to scream. She knew Drew would be awake and downstairs in no time if she did, but something stopped her. She noticed that the person didn’t even move. He stood in front of her and just watched.
The man wore a face mask that only revealed his eyes. Eyes that were icy pale green, you know, the kind that were freighting but enticing at the same time.
* * *