Stalker

He had been following her for some time now and was growing quite excited. She had just turned down a quiet residential street. He decided it was time to close the distance.

He had spotted her five blocks ago and made up his mind a block after. She went into a store and he waited across the busy street until she re-emerged wearing earphones and her arms full with grocery bags.

Now she was home and it was almost his time. Excitement swelled in his chest. He almost had to suppress laughter. He glided behind her as she stood oblivious in front of her apartment building door. She was struggling to balance her groceries as she fumbled with her keys. She finally unlocked it and as she opened the door he struck. He violently grabbed her hair and pushed her in. She dropped the bags, sending cans and fruits rolling across the floor. He pulled back her head with one hand and pushed her arm into the small of her back with the other.

“Make a sound and I’ll kill you,” he spat into her ear.

“Okay,” she whimpered, choking back tears.

“What apartment are you!”

“Please don’t hurt me—”

“Shut up! What floor!”

“Number… number twenty—”

Suddenly she spun around and with her free arm struck his temple with her elbow. He stumbled backward still gripping her hair. He almost dragged her to the ground with him but as he fell she managed to kick a heel up into his groin. He let go and sprawled on his back, hitting his head on the door behind him. He looked up in a daze. He tried raising his hands but it was too late. She brought the edge of the can of chili down on his head. 

He awoke to the sound of flowing water. It was dark and a cool breeze brushed his face. His vision was blurry but below him he could make out lights glittering off rippling water. He tried to get his bearings. Suddenly he realized he was restrained. He began yanking his arms and legs, struggling to get free.

“I’d stop that if I was you. I might lose my grip,” a female voice said in a vicious but composed whisper.

His eyes finally adjusted and he looked around. He was tied to a chair that was teetering on its front legs at the edge of a bridge. Behind him someone was leaning him forward, below him the dark water of the river rushed by like a churning conveyor belt. It was her. She held the back of the chair with two fingers, playfully rocking it back and forth.

“You thought I was helpless, huh?” Her hot breath hissed into his ear.

He couldn’t move.

“Well you fucked up.”

She gently lifted her fingers from the chair. He fell through the air silently for a long moment then plunged into the water. He writhed violently, bubbles spewing from him like boiling water. Gradually his struggling faded and after a few last desperate jerks he became still and peacefully descended into the darkness.