By: Mia L. Hazlett
This was like a stakeout, except we weren’t cops. Instead, we were more like stalkers. Professional stalkers. While they stalked the gentleman in the house, I stalked the neighborhood. They kept me blindfolded for the car ride, but we always ended up on the same street. Unfortunately, it was always nighttime, so I couldn’t see the street sign at the corner.
We arrived at 10 pm every night. Within minutes, a car would pull into the driveway. Three weeks and the same thing. A gentleman would get out and go inside. The lights would stay on for about two hours. They would appear again at about 6 am. By 8 am, the driver’s seat was occupied again. With daylight, my blindfold returned. Removal of it always put us in the same parking lot behind the same building. Unfortunately, it was non-distinct and offered no details of my location.
Tonight was different. When they took my blindfold off, it was dusk. The sun hadn’t completely gone down. We were at the same house, but sitting in a different location. There was no way to look at the street sign without being obvious. The Doctor and Footsteps sat in the front, while I sat in the back of the van with my hands zip-tied behind my back. We were never in the same vehicle while occupying the on-street parking road.
But like I said, tonight was different. Footsteps turned around and cut my zip-tie off. It didn’t matter how many times we had come here, I didn’t know where I was. They did. Running to nowhere would be stupid. Even if I could shake them, GPS would tattle on me.
Again, tonight was different. After being cut free, I was no longer a stalker. I was now a home intruder. I had no watch, but I assumed it was a little after 10 pm. I heard the door open. Keys were thrown on a counter or something. I heard a refrigerator door open then close. The television went on and then a ringtone was quickly stifled. There was no answer, so I assumed he ignored the call.
Now I waited for him to go to sleep. With my sliver view from the closet, there was only a glow from the television. It could have been an hour, or maybe two. I never thought stalking could be so tiring. My right leg began to cramp. Moving was not an option. My tight environment did not allow for it. Still there was the television, but now heavy breathing.
If hope worked, he was asleep. If hope worked, I wouldn’t have to kill him. If hope worked, tonight I could escape. If hope worked, they would never find me again. If hope worked, Hope would live too. I crept out of the stalking cover and entered the hallway. There was no hope. Footsteps was in the hallway too.
© Copyright 2014 – Mia L. Hazlett