[Very] Short story: I don't need to see him
I place my hand protectively over my handbag as I look over my shoulder and squint into the shadows. No matter how hard I look I can't find him but that's not unusual. I don't need to see him to know he's there. He's always there.
My pace quickens slightly as I turn into an empty road lit only by one flickering streetlamp doing its best to comfort me. I'm not far from home now but I know that once I get there I'm going to have to stop for a moment while I unlock the door. The longer I stop, the sooner he's going to reach me. The longer I stop, the clumsier my fingers will become as they fumble with the keys. I try to distract myself by counting the paving stones I pass but instead become consumed by the echoes of my footsteps among the silent buildings.
I'm relieved when I see a young couple emerge in the distance walking towards me engrossed in their drunken love. I know I'm no safer with them around but if it's going to happen again at least I know someone will find me. Someone will be able to point at him and say, "Yes, it was him." My eyes flicker up to the cameras attached to the office building I'm passing and wonder, as I always do, whether the grainy footage of me walking home alone will be the last they'll ever see of me. I tuck my hair behind my ear and then feel foolish for being conscious about what I look like.
I'm so close now that I can see the archway leading into the courtyard that houses my front door. The couple pass by without registering me and I look at their faces, envying how they appear so carefree. I wonder if my own gives any clues to the thoughts running through my mind. I try to look strong but I know the tight grip I have on my bag speaks for itself. I'm not even worried about the bag being taken - whoever wants it can have it, I'm not going to argue - but I need something to squeeze. The blood pumping around my body needs something to do.
I turn into the archway, walk straight past my door and turn the corner to where I know I'll find my car. One click of a button and the lock clunks open, eager to aid my escape. I grab at the door and throw it open so I can climb inside. I don't bother with my seatbelt - it's more important that I get out of here. I need to leave before he catches me. I slam the car into reverse and narrowly miss my neighbour's plant pot as I turn sharply back down through the archway and out into the street. It's a race now. He'll have to try even harder to reach me this time.
I speed through the back streets until I reach the main road out of the city and that's when I allow myself to breathe. Although I feel more relaxed, my eyes still search my rear-view mirror and scan the number plates behind me for that combination I know so well. I know I won't find it - there's no way he'll still have that car now - but I check anyway just in case. I stare at the drivers that pass me, my brain automatically on the lookout for those piercing blue eyes. Have I lost him? Am I safe?
An hour later I pull up into a driveway and run up to the porch, hammering the doorbell until I see the landing lights turn on. After a short while she opens the door and says nothing, she just looks at me with a sad smile and weary eyes. This is not the first time I've come here so late. She puts her arm around me and shuffles me into the safety of her kitchen where the kettle is already almost boiling. I collapse into the chair and let my elbows hold my weight as I run my fingers through my hair. It's over, I'm safe. For tonight.
As I sip my hot sweet tea she sits down next to me and places her hand softly on my knee. "You need to stop this, love. He's gone now. He's dead. He can't hurt you anymore."
I look up and peer at her briefly before lowering my gaze back down to the table.
I don't need to see him to know that he's there. He's always there. He always will be.
My pace quickens slightly as I turn into an empty road lit only by one flickering streetlamp doing its best to comfort me. I'm not far from home now but I know that once I get there I'm going to have to stop for a moment while I unlock the door. The longer I stop, the sooner he's going to reach me. The longer I stop, the clumsier my fingers will become as they fumble with the keys. I try to distract myself by counting the paving stones I pass but instead become consumed by the echoes of my footsteps among the silent buildings.
I'm relieved when I see a young couple emerge in the distance walking towards me engrossed in their drunken love. I know I'm no safer with them around but if it's going to happen again at least I know someone will find me. Someone will be able to point at him and say, "Yes, it was him." My eyes flicker up to the cameras attached to the office building I'm passing and wonder, as I always do, whether the grainy footage of me walking home alone will be the last they'll ever see of me. I tuck my hair behind my ear and then feel foolish for being conscious about what I look like.
I'm so close now that I can see the archway leading into the courtyard that houses my front door. The couple pass by without registering me and I look at their faces, envying how they appear so carefree. I wonder if my own gives any clues to the thoughts running through my mind. I try to look strong but I know the tight grip I have on my bag speaks for itself. I'm not even worried about the bag being taken - whoever wants it can have it, I'm not going to argue - but I need something to squeeze. The blood pumping around my body needs something to do.
I turn into the archway, walk straight past my door and turn the corner to where I know I'll find my car. One click of a button and the lock clunks open, eager to aid my escape. I grab at the door and throw it open so I can climb inside. I don't bother with my seatbelt - it's more important that I get out of here. I need to leave before he catches me. I slam the car into reverse and narrowly miss my neighbour's plant pot as I turn sharply back down through the archway and out into the street. It's a race now. He'll have to try even harder to reach me this time.
I speed through the back streets until I reach the main road out of the city and that's when I allow myself to breathe. Although I feel more relaxed, my eyes still search my rear-view mirror and scan the number plates behind me for that combination I know so well. I know I won't find it - there's no way he'll still have that car now - but I check anyway just in case. I stare at the drivers that pass me, my brain automatically on the lookout for those piercing blue eyes. Have I lost him? Am I safe?
An hour later I pull up into a driveway and run up to the porch, hammering the doorbell until I see the landing lights turn on. After a short while she opens the door and says nothing, she just looks at me with a sad smile and weary eyes. This is not the first time I've come here so late. She puts her arm around me and shuffles me into the safety of her kitchen where the kettle is already almost boiling. I collapse into the chair and let my elbows hold my weight as I run my fingers through my hair. It's over, I'm safe. For tonight.
As I sip my hot sweet tea she sits down next to me and places her hand softly on my knee. "You need to stop this, love. He's gone now. He's dead. He can't hurt you anymore."
I look up and peer at her briefly before lowering my gaze back down to the table.
I don't need to see him to know that he's there. He's always there. He always will be.