Sweet re­venge – I stalked my own stalker!

Things had gone too far – there was no go­ing back

that's life (Australia) - - Contents - By He­len M. Wal­ters

Iwas fairly cer­tain that I had the right house. It looked like the sort of house you would live in any­way.

I wasn’t re­ally sure what I was bas­ing that on. Maybe the way you looked, the clothes you wore, the glimpses I’d caught of your car when you didn’t know I was watch­ing.

It was all the lit­tle clues that made me feel like I knew more about you than I ac­tu­ally did.

I didn’t know what I hoped to achieve by stand­ing there in the fading light, look­ing in. I just needed to know once and for all.

I needed to take some ac­tion, to do some­thing.

It felt like I stood there for a long time be­fore any­thing hap­pened.

Maybe I’m wrong, I thought.

Per­haps I was just stand­ing out­side an empty house, like an id­iot.

But af­ter about 10 min­utes, a light flicked on some­where.

I did fol­low you back to the right house af­ter all, I thought with a sigh of re­lief.

All my ef­forts not to let you out of my sight this time had paid off.

Then I caught my breath as you came into the room where the light had been turned on.

I couldn’t quite see your face as you moved about what was ob­vi­ously your kitchen, but I could see the fa­mil­iar way you walked and the light glint­ing off your strik­ing red hair.

You had your head bowed as you rum­maged around in cup­boards and re­ar­ranged things on your work­tops.

Fi­nally you looked up and then I was ab­so­lutely sure it was you. How could I not be?

I’ve looked at you so much over the last few weeks. In the gro­cer’s, at the petrol sta­tion, the bank – all the places where I’ve man­aged to sneak a look with­out you notic­ing.

Al­though I don’t know you, I feel like I have in­ti­mate knowl­edge of ev­ery facet of your ap­pear­ance.

We’ve never spo­ken so I don’t know how your voice sounds, but I know how you look so well that I can see your face when I close my eyes.

What should I do now?

I won­dered.

I’d been wait­ing for this mo­ment for ages – when I would have some sort of power over you. But now it was here, I wasn’t sure what the best course of ac­tion should be.

I’d dis­cussed the si­t­u­a­tion with a trusted friend a few times since I’d first spot­ted you. That seems like a long time ago now, though it’s only been a few weeks. At first you were just a face in the crowd, but now I can’t think of any­thing but you.

‘I don’t like it, Al,’ my best mate, Sam, had said, when I’d first men­tioned the fol­low­ing.

‘It sounds like stalk­ing. Peo­ple get into trou­ble for that sort of thing, don’t they?’

‘Maybe,’ I’d replied, then changed the sub­ject.

I wasn’t sure then what the le­gal po­si­tion was, whether a line had been crossed or not. But I re­alised I needed to find out.

‘Well, just be care­ful,’ had been Sam’s re­sponse.

I knew he was look­ing out for me and had my best in­ter­ests at heart. He didn’t un­der­stand though, didn’t know that things had al­ready gone too far.

In the end, I hadn’t heeded the warn­ings. I just de­cided to deal with things in my own way.

And that was how I came to be there, stand­ing in the dark out­side your house.

I tried to swal­low a bub­ble

That’s why I was there, stand­ing in the dark out­side your house

I put my hand in my pocket and felt the firm edge of metal

of hys­te­ria that was threat­en­ing to en­gulf me. I’d come this far, there was no point in los­ing the plot now.

I could still see you mov­ing around in the kitchen. You looked so re­laxed, so happy, that I al­most for­got why I was there. I al­most let my­self won­der what it would be like if it was me you were cook­ing din­ner for.

Sure, I could have just walked up to the house and rung the door­bell. You’d have let me in and ev­ery­thing would have been nor­mal, just like hun­dreds of cou­ples all over the coun­try.

But I knew that things weren’t nor­mal, they were about as far from nor­mal as it was pos­si­ble to be.

I put my hand in my pocket and felt the firm edge of metal against my hand.

Could I re­ally do this?

What I was about to do would change your life for­ever.

I al­most wanted to just leave you alone to go about your life in peace and for­get ev­ery­thing that had hap­pened. But as I stood there, I re­minded my­self that wasn’t pos­si­ble.

I took my phone from my pocket, hes­i­tated for a mo­ment and then di­alled the num­ber on the lit­tle square of card I’d been given a few days prior.

It’d been given to me when I’d first de­cided I had to do some­thing. ‘Hello? In­spec­tor Evans. It’s Alison Mur­ray,’ I said. ‘The man who’s been stalk­ing me. I know where he lives now. He was hang­ing around out­side my of­fice again tonight, but I man­aged to give him the slip and then

I fol­lowed him home.’

The in­spec­tor’s voice came across the phone, low and re­as­sur­ing. He was cross with me for tak­ing mat­ters into my own hands, of course. But he told me not to worry, his col­leagues were on their way.

A sigh of re­lief es­caped my lips. There’d be no more look­ing over my shoul­der, no more si­lent phone calls, no more fear.

Then I stayed on the line just like In­spec­tor Evans had told me to and I waited for the po­lice to come.

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