Stalked

by Lorraine Taylor

  She was grotesque.

  Every time I came here I promised myself it would be the last time and cursed the pathetic need for a mother that had drove me to seek her out when my life was filled with people that loved me and wanted only the best for me. I remembered successfully convincing myself that she wasn’t the monster I remembered, but was a woman who was very mentally unwell who’d reached the lowest point in her life. I told myself that her near death experience and the subsequent loss of her son would have straightened her out. I fantasised of knocking on her door with a bunch of flowers, her opening the door and sweeping me into her arms with apologies. I could then have a mother who loved me, like most other people did.

  I knew deep down that this was my main problem, for if my own mother couldn’t love me, who could?

  I stared into my mother’s hideous face, committing every detail to memory to consult on the days when hope and yearning for her love threatened to break me.

  I felt like the wretched 7year old boy again, desperate for affection, any affection.

  Lost in my thoughts, I came back to reality when my mother sneered. “Aw,” she mocked. “Is the baby ready to cry? Has mumsy-wumsy hurt the baby den?

  Embarrassment and sorrow flooded me as the tears that stung my eyes threatened to overflow.

  Without saying a word, I walked past my mother and out of the front door.

  Any other day, I would have remained there and taken all the shouting and swearing, all the insults and terrible things that she would say until she ordered me from her house, calling me a useless, ungrateful, miserable excuse for a son.

  But today, with the murders of the couple I had followed all over the news and the shadowed figure tormenting my every thought, I just could not handle any more.

  She followed me, surprised and enraged that I had walked away, shouting obscenities and shrieking and wailing. She raged about my abandonment of her, my lack of love and compassion.

  I got into my truck and locked the door just as my mother began tugging on the handle. She beat her fists against the window, her spittle spraying on the glass and her already hideous face twisted in hate and rage.

  I drove away, first watching my mother chase my truck briefly as she continued to shout and curse, then watching the sympathetic looks from various neighbours who had heard the shouting and come out to see what was going on.

  The sympathetic looks made me feel worse and tears streamed down my face.

  Damn it, why did it have to be like this?

  My aunt and uncle had loved me enough for 100 mothers, so why did I feel this need to be near that awful woman? What was wrong in my head that I felt my life would stay stuck in one place until she first apologized for what she’d done, then loved me like she should have since the first time she held me?

  My aunt and uncle worried for me.

  My uncle, Bob, was a character and was dry and witty. Even when being serious, he couldn’t be completely serious. He would mention my visits with my mother and add humour and one liners to the speech, although I knew the point made was a serious one. My aunt relied on a different tactic―begging. She begged me to stop seeing my mother, spending hours talking with me and offering counselling if I needed it, even offering to go with me. She was afraid the progress I had made would revert backwards if I continued contact with what she described as a very sick woman.

  Unable to control my emotions any longer, I pulled off the road a mile from my mother’s home. I didn’t sob, but tears leaked from my eyes as I covered my face with my hands.

  After a couple of minutes had passed and my breathing was somewhat normal, I pulled off the kerb and continued the drive home.

  Had I not have been so distraught and emotional, I may have noticed the car following me.

  Had I have been a little more observant, I’d not only have noticed the car pulling off the road when I did, but that it had also followed me to my mother’s house.

  Chapter Seven

  I stared at the TV, its light flickering shadows across my darkened living room.

  To anyone who may see me, I appeared engrossed in the images, but in truth I wasn’t seeing the TV. Instead, my mind tormented me with both images of my mother and of the hooded figure that had waved to me from the couple’s apartment block.

  Further details had emerged regarding the murders, details that heightened my fear. Both had been stabbed viciously, the attack being described as savage and brutal.

  Also, the female victim, who’s name was Diane Creed, had complained of phone calls shortly before her murder. Though she hadn’t said the calls had been threatening, the caller was unknown to her and persistent.

  Who was the killer? Was it the man I had watched outside the apartment block?

  I had my money on a jealous boyfriend of the woman’s, but then why point and wave at me? A jealous boyfriend would neither have noticed me nor cared since his girlfriend was having sex with another man in full view of the street.

  And how would a jealous boyfriend have known that I was also watching?

  Since leaving my mothers, I had stayed in my flat for the rest of the day, unable to deal with any more stress right now.

  I’d tried to contact Becky, just to hear her voice and a reasonable excuse as to why I hadn’t heard from her all week. As I expected however, my call went unanswered before going to voicemail.

  The text message I expected from my mother arrived, just like I knew it would. She did it every week: went psycho on me when I visited then text to apologize but still managing to twist it around so I was the one to blame.

  I was wondering how much more stress I could take before I had some sort of a breakdown when the ringing of my doorbell pulled me from my thoughts.

  Eagerly grabbing the bills I had laid out from the coffee table, I jumped up and rushed to the door. Pulling it open, I didn’t see the pizza delivery man as I expected, but Ricky, my brother grinning back at me.

  Immediately feeling better, I stood aside to let him enter.

  “How’s it going, bum fluff”, he greeted me as he strode inside.

  “Going good, skid mark.”

  We grinned at each other, neither of us ashamed that we still used the childhood nicknames we had for one another.

  “What brings you here?” I asked as Ricky looked around.

  “Jeez man,” he said, “I’m sure you have a secret cleaning lady or something. I feel like I’m making the place untidy just by being here.”

  I shrugged self-consciously. “I hate mess,” I said with a little more feeling than I’d intended.

  Ricky looked at me then lowered his eyes. “Sorry man, I forgot…you know.”

  I shrugged. “So what can I do for you?”

  “Can’t I just drop in to see how you are from time to time?” He sat down and grinned. “You still boffing that hot lass Becky?”

  I sighed as I sat down. “Sort of. I mean, she still turns up once a week for a night before disappearing. Then I don’t hear from her until the next time she turns up.”

  Ricky shook his head and laughed. “Man, you got it easy. That’s just what you want that,a lass that turns up for a bit of loving then disappears when it’s over.”

  I shook my head as he laughed again. “I’m not sure, I feel used. I just want a normal relationship, you know?”

  Ricky nodded, though he still grinned. “You know how much I love Nicole,” he said, referring to his wife. “I love her more than anything, but I had a right good time with the ladies before I settled down. It’s like shopping for a car: you don’t settle for the first one you ride, do you?”

  “How you ever got a woman to agree to be your wife I’ll never know,” I told him, shaking my head. “You’re still a cretin.”

  He laughed and I joined in.

  Though I had healed considerably in the years leading upto my teens, I was still guarded where my feelings were concerned. Also, the thought of having a physical relationship with a girl had petrified me, knowing that s
he would see my scars and start to ask questions.

  Ricky, however, was not so bashful.

  He’d had plenty of girlfriends in his time, many of them overlapping, and he’d enjoyed every second of it. I, the more sensitive type, had asked him how he managed to keep all these girls’ going without fear of hurting them, he’d told me to stop being a ball buster.

  At the age of 29, Ricky still held the boyish good looks that ensured his teen years never passed without female company, yet he had settled down with one woman, something I never believed would happen. Nicole had grabbed his heart quickly into the relationship and Ricky had been happy. Their marriage was a strong one, and blessed with a three-year-old-boy who Ricky had insisted on calling Danny.

  I loved Ricky fiercely, for the closeness we had now and for the bond we shared as kids. Though his aunt and uncle had rescued me from my mother, it had been Ricky who I had fully opened up to. No-one besides him, not even the counsellor I saw after moving in with my aunt and uncle, knew all the details of my childhood.

  He had been one of the main reasons for my swift recovery. His brothers, Mark and Eric had cared for me and looked out for me, but Ricky had been my friend as well as my cousin.

  We had started referring to each other as brother after I’d been living there about a year.

  “What’s up?” Ricky asked. “You look like you’re gonna bust out crying or something.”

  “Nah. Just wondering how you got a woman as beautiful as Nicole.”

  “Hey, your Becky ain’t that bad man. The fact that she’s hardly around makes her all the more attractive.”

  He laughed loudly as I shook my head. “I want to settle down. I want a real lasting relationship that’ll lead to something special.”

  “Stop being such a girl,” Ricky told me frowning. “Next you’ll be parping on about wanting to get married.”

  “I do want to get married.”

  “Oh God,” he said, suddenly grinning wickedly. “I bet you prance around your bedroom at night wearing one of those net curtains as a veil.”

  “I had hoped on getting married as the groom ,” I said stonily as Ricky laughed.

  “Okay, okay. You’ve turned up unannounced, you’ve insulted me and laughed at me. You gonna tell my why you’re here now?

  Ricky still smiled, but he now looked worried.

  I frowned.

  “Okay, I’m just gonna come out and say it. You know my mum’s friend Elizabeth?”

  I understood immediately and lowered my head.

  “Well, as you know,” Ricky continued, “she lives on the same street as the evil bitch who gave birth to you. She rang mum earlier, said it’d happened again. That the she-devil ran you out of the house and that you were upset.” He lowered his voice. “She told mum that you were crying when you drove away.”

  Not knowing what to say, I stared at the floor.

  “Danny.”

  I raised his head. No longer grinning, Ricky stared at me with genuine concern on his handsome face.

  “What is it, Danny? What is it that makes you go back there week after week? What do you owe her, or rather, what are you looking for? Whatever it is Danny, she can’t give it. Not unless it’s pain, suffering, torment or constant nightmares. You’re still having them?”

  I nodded, remembering the times that Ricky had woken me mid-scream in the night and held me to chase the nightmares away.

  “I’m not gonna say I understand how you must feel, because I couldn’t possibly. But I think I kinda understand why you keep going to see her and what you’re hoping to get from her. I can tell you Danny, it just isn’t gonna happen. The reason I’m here and not mum is because I didn’t think you’d be able to handle her so upset after dealing with the she-devil today.”

  “Aunt Pam was upset?”

  “She was crying, yes.”

  My shoulders slumped. It had come down to this, who did I want to hurt the least― Aunt Pam or my mother.

  Not that my mother would hurt, she would just resent me even more than she already did.

  “What about Uncle Bob?”

  “You know my dad,” Ricky said grinning again. “He had some choice ideas of what should be done to the bitch.” He turned serious again. “Bottom line Danny, he’s worried too. In fact, we all are. We don’t want you near that woman anymore. I know I can’t tell you what to do, but I’m hoping you’ll understand that we care, and that keeping her in your life is holding you back. Whatever it is Danny, just let it go. You’re no less of a person for walking away, many people would have never given her a second thought from the day they left. You’ve done so well for yourself, don’t let her hold you back.”

  Unashamed at the contact, Ricky moved along the sofa and opened his arms. I hugged him back, trying not to cry.

  When we broke apart, we each avoided looking at the other until the tears had dried in our eyes. Ricky continued with a little good-natured name-calling, referring to Becky, before he left. He told me he’d ring before waving goodbye. He made me laugh as he halted at the stairs and made a commando-type move, his hands clenched together in a pretend pistol as he searched for Samson, before saluting me and trotting down the stairs.

  I was about to shut the door when I heard voices floating up the stairs. Ten seconds later the pizza delivery man came into view and I rushed inside to retrieve the money.

  My appetite somewhat diminished by the conversation with Ricky, I slowly shut my front door.

  I set the pizza down on my coffee table and replayed the conversation with Ricky in my mind. I may not have understood my feelings towards my mother and my lack of control where she was concerned, but I knew one thing, I would not have the people who did love me to suffer.

  That my aunt Pam had been crying was distressing. I could picture her as she replaced the receiver in its cradle, her grief at being told I’d left my mother’s house in tears. No-one in my family understood why I had contacted my mother and all had given my their personal opinion on the matter. In spite of their misgivings and concern, each of them had backed me up.

  I was used to feeling so terrible regarding my mother; I had been feeling that way all my life, but I would not have her infecting anyone close to me.

  I smiled to myself, suddenly feeling as if an enormous weight had been lifted from my shoulders.

  I was cutting my mother out of my life and concentrating on the people who were important.

  My appetite returned quickly and I tucked into my pizza.

  I felt happy and content.

  I was back in control of my own life and no-one was ever going to put me through this rubbish again.

  This buoyant feeling remained with me for the next 15 minutes.

  It ended with the phone call.

  Chapter Eight

  I was slumped on my sofa, a full belly of pizza and feeling rather happy with myself when my mobile rang.

  Becky!

  I jumped up, then groaned. Telling myself it was not a good idea to move that quickly after devouring a 14inch pizza all to yourself, I hurried to the TV stand and retrieved my phone. Eagerly checking the screen, my excitement died when I realised I didn’t recognize the phone number. But then, just because Becky’s name wasn’t flashing on the screen, it didn’t mean it wasn’t her calling from a different number.

  “Hello,” I answered eagerly.

  “Hello, Danny.”

  I frowned. It was a male voice and one I didn’t recognize. I didn’t recognize it not because I hadn’t heard him before, but because the voice sounded strange; boomy and low bass. “Hello. Who is this?”

  “You tell me.”

  I frowned again.

  The voice was definitely not a normal voice. It was disguised somehow. “Look pal, I don’t have time for games. You either tell me who you are or I’m hangin’ up.”

  The voice tutted. ” Yes, I understand that. You’ve had such a long trying day today. Add that to getting home rather late last night and I can see why you’re so t
esty. You must be feeling terribly done in. I almost feel bad for adding to your misery. Almost.”

  Dread stirred within me and I took a deep breath. “Yes, I’m short on patience so why don’t you do yourself a favour and crank-call someone else, whoever you are.”

  “You know, Danny,” the voice said, a trace of amusement in its robot sounding voice, “we’ve been talking all of 10 seconds and twice you’ve implied I’m playing some sort of game or a joke. I assure you Danny, I’m not playing.”

  “Just who the hell are you?” I asked agitated. The man was getting to me. As much as I hated to admit it, I was scared. Although on some level I was sure it was someone I knew playing a joke on me, my nerves were stretched so thin I couldn’t even handle a harmless joke right then.

  “And it’s interesting you would ask me what game I’m playing and state you have no time for them, when in fact I’m trying to figure out yours.”

  I backed up slowly and sat in my leather sofa. I think if I’d remained standing for just another second my legs would have buckled beneath me.

  “Tell me, Danny,” the voice said into my silence, “did you like hide and seek as a child?”

  I tried to speak, the words that formed in my head coming out of my mouth in stutters.

  “Or,” the voice carried on, “did you just follow the hiders to see where they went?”

  I stared at the wall in shock.

  I thought of the hooded figure from last night and told myself that it couldn’t be. There’s no way that would happen, not in real life. How would the man have found me?

  No, I was convincing myself that someone I knew was playing a joke on me and that it was just happening at the wrong time.

  “You’re a big man Danny. I didn’t expect you to be such a wimp.”

  His words angered me, more so since I was busy convincing myself that it was someone I knew tormenting me. If I acted like a scared child I’d never hear the end of it.

  “Try me face to face pal,” I said through clenched teeth. “I don’t do name-calling and big talk with a disguised voice over a phone. You come see me and we’ll see who’s the wimp.”