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“O
h my God, Andrew!” I rushed toward him to take a look at the gash. Thankfully it wasn't deep. “How did this happen?” I asked him. He carried a dazed look on his face. “I.... I don’t remember.” He refused to look at me. I knew he was lying. "Andrew, look at me. Don't lie to me. Who did this to you? Are you being threatened?!" He continued to look away.
Realizing he wasn't going to budge, I ran to get the first aid box. I kept asking him as I did his Band-Aid about who did this to him, but he remained silent. I had forgotten all about the file at this point. After I was done wrapping the wound, he immediately stood up and said, "Let's go back. We both have work tomorrow; we do not want to be late." He did not wait for my answer as he rushed outside towards the car.
I immediately picked up my things, the file, and the photo albums and followed him outside. “Andrew, you are going to have to tell me what is going on!" At this point, he had already started the car. I realized there was no use asking him now. I ran towards the passenger door and sat down beside him. Throughout the car ride, he refused to look at me and dropped me off at my apartment complex without a word.
##
I woke up to unfamiliar surroundings. My head was still buzzing, so it was hard to distinguish my surroundings for a while. I tried to stand up, but the throbbing pain in my head and leg pulled me down. Wait, head and leg? What's wrong with my leg? I looked down to find a gash on my leg.
The wound was still warm and bleeding, meaning it had not been too long since I was attacked. I looked around frantically to find any sign of the attacker. That's when I noticed it; a white sheet of paper neatly tucked into my jeans pocket. With shaking hands, I began to unfold the clearly folded piece of paper. Only one line is written in neat, bold letters. “Stop snooping around what does not concern you.”
##
I entered my apartment, still baffled about Andrew's behavior. Dirt prints right inside the front door. These past few days had been moving so fast and suddenly that the implication of a stalker had slipped right through my mind. First, I thought I should wait outside the door and call Andrew; he shouldn't be too far away right now. "No. He has his own problems right now; I cannot keep troubling him with mine." For once in my life, all the voices in my head agreed with one another. I cautiously began to walk soundlessly in my apartment.
With a racing heart and sweaty palms, I trod carefully through the living room. Not a single noise. I could hear nothing. Considering how silent the apartment was, I should have heard someone breathing. What scared me the most was that the stalker now had access through the front door. I checked every corner of the house, but nothing. Whoever had been here was quick enough to have already left. After being sure that no one was in there, I turned on the light in my bedroom. I scanned the room for anything missing.
Everything seemed to be in its place, except.... the picture frame. It was gone. I immediately dropped everything in my hands and searched for the picture frame. I rummaged through the drawers of my side drawer, but nothing.
I noticed something else missing: my pocketknife. I let out a scream as I waved my hands through my hair. Who is this person, and why do they keep messing with me?!! I felt like I was beginning to lose my sense of self. Too much was happening, and I was past my limit to keep up with it. Doctor Tsunoda was wrong; I do not have it in me to be strong enough to do what he could not. Tears of frustration began to cascade down my cheeks. I broke down and sat on the floor, crying. I had no idea what to do. So, I sat there, and I wept till I could weep no more. Was I weeping for the chaos in my mind or for the loss of the possibility of a new chapter in life? I simply wept.
