The Calming Touch of Metal

My whole sophomore year in high school lacked privacy. I'm not saying that my parents were nosy, or that my mom read my diary. I had a shadow, a dark presence that constantly lingered over me every moment of the day.

I had a stalker.

It was innocent at first -- well, as innocent as stalking could be. It was so "casual", so well done, that I didn't even notice it at first. Too quickly, I couldn't ignore it. But by trying to, I had unwittingly allowed Him to become a part of my life.

The part that upsets me the most was that I knew the guy for almost my whole life, and though I had always thought He was creepy, I had never expected my life to be in danger.

It was my first year as a cheerleader, and I couldn't believe how much fun it was. The girls and I didn't really hang out at school, but we were still pretty close. We looked out for each other. But even my squad couldn't protect me for long.

He was sly in his hobby -- his first few stalkings were at football games. He was a football player, I cheered at the games. No one made the connection, but it made sense. It was only when He disappeared from the bench and reappeared outside the girls' bathroom as I was washing my hands did I start to notice. He started showing up at my chorus performances and sat near me in most of my classes.

Sure, it was weird, but I couldn't really think of why. But the feeling in my stomach, like it was being inhabited by dread, just wouldn't go away. I became jumpy and couldn't sleep well at night. I wasn't allowed to be the butterfly in the pyramids anymore because I couldn't pay enough attention.

***

"It's my birthday, and I'm not three. I don't have to invite everyone in my class."

Mom frowned at me over the rims of her glasses. "Cat, it wouldn't be fair to not invite everyone. You have to be considerate of other people's feelings."

"Mom, please don't use your psychology on me. Save it for your patients."

"Catherine, don't you take that tone with me."

So I lost the battle and the next day at school I was handing out invitations. I had an extra one at the end of the day -- He wasn't there. I was just about to throw it away at home when my mom found it. She promptly called His house and gave His mom the same information on the invitation, although it wasn't necessary. He was at school the next day.

It was the very beginning of the lunch break and I was at my locker, switching my books out for the last few periods for the day. My Biology book slipped through my fingers, but was caught before it hit the ground by a large pair of hands.

It was Him.

"Cat, you dropped your book." His voice was like nails on a chalkboard in my ears. Maybe it was because He rarely spoke. That was something else that freaked me out.

"Um, yeah, I can see that. Can I have it back?" He silently returned it and as I put it in my book bag I could feel His eyes on me.

"Cat?" I froze, and focused on not running as my instincts screamed at me to do.

"Yeah?"

"I can't wait for your party." He grinned then left for the cafeteria.

I had lost my appetite.

All too soon it was my birthday.

I could barely recognize my house from all the crepe paper and streamers. White Christmas lights and paper lanterns lit up the night. I was busy getting ready in my room, pinning up my hair, putting on my favorite perfume that smelled of sweet grapefruit, and putting on my dress. I quickly ran downstairs afterward to help my parents with anything that needed it. I had just finished unloading the dishwasher when my dad called me into the small room we nicknamed "Dad's Office".

"Cat, you know how I worry about you." I smiled, but it soon evaporated after I saw how serious he was. "And you are so... defenseless. I know we said we'd get you one of these when you went to college, but I just felt that you needed it now." He walked over to out gun safe and pulled out a small box. It wasn't gift-wrapped, and it felt very heavy. I lifted the top off and felt my heart stop.

It was a .44 Magnum.

Daddy lifted it out of the box, and gently handed it to me.

"Is it loaded?" I whispered.

"No, not with a bunch of teenagers coming over." He smiled at me and took it back, locking it up in the safe. "When the party is over, we'll go to the shooting range and have target practice. After that, we'll re-load it. I want you to keep it in your room, and with you when you're home alone." The doorbell rang, announcing the arrival of my guests.

"Thanks, Daddy," I said seriously, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. Then I was off to try to enjoy my party.

But I didn't even have to try. He didn't show up, and I had fun because of it. We played childish games, ate cake and ice cream, and eventually opened presents.

"Cat, I think this is the last one," my mom announced as she entered the living room. The gift was wrapped in generic birthday paper, plastered with colorful balloons.

"Who's it from?" I asked breathlessly (I had been laughing hard at the boys playing with their cake and the balloons. The boys in my class always managed to keep me entertained). She checked the box for a label.

"It doesn't say, honey."

I shook it up and down, side to side, listening closely each time. Then I just ripped the paper off and opened it.

Screams filled the room as did the stench of the dead cat. I dropped the box and got as far way from it as I could, like everyone else. I quickly ushered everyone outside as my parents got rid of the box. I hoped that no one would notice how badly I was shaking. Minutes later, my mom joined us outside.

"Who wants to watch a movie?" It was amazing how quickly their attention shifted.

***

That was the first in a series of bad things to come.

It was our last football game of the season, and I was dead on my feet. Ever since my party, more dead things had appeared at my house, and sometimes they were accompanied by roses and notes from a "Secret Admirer". My parents told the post office that they would just pick up our mail from there from now on.
I kept my gun close by my side at home and made sure it was always loaded.

"Cat? Cat??? Cat!" I jumped.

"Yes? What's up?" It was Emily, the cheer captain.

"We are! It's halftime!" I quickly grabbed my pom-poms and plastered on my cheerleader smile as we all ran onto the field. I barely remember any of our routine, just that His eyes were watching me the whole time. As soon as we finished, I ran towards my car instead of exiting the field with the rest of the squad. I buckled myself in, shaking so badly that it took a few tries. Then I took off, the wheels squealing on the asphalt. I gripped the steering wheel tightly, trying my best not to exceed the speed limit. Suddenly, my car jolted, as if someone hit me. I looked in the rear-view mirror, and saw His car through the glare of the headlights. I barely had time to gasp as his car nudged mine again. If it wasn't for my seat belt, I would have flown through the windshield that time.

"Leave me alone!!!" I screamed. Although I was sure he couldn't hear me, he grinned as if he could. I decided that I had no choice but to speed, so I did. I would have been extremely grateful if a cop stopped me. Sadly, that didn't happen. After a short amount of time, he slowed down and disappeared from my view. My heartbeat began to calm down a bit, but I didn't slow down the slightest bit. It felt like hours until I finally got home.I jumped out of the car as soon as it stopped and ran for the door, falling and scraping my knee as I did so. I was shaking so badly that I was sure He could hear my keys jingle as I unlocked the door.

In my haste to get upstairs, I forgot to lock the door.

I sprinted up the stairs, taking two at a time but slightly impaired by my banged up knee. I ran into my room and started tearing it up, looking for my pistol. It was nowhere to be found. I heard the front door swing open, its hinges in dire need of some WD40. His footsteps echoed off of our hardwood floor. I started to panic, fear's grip clutching at my heart, constricting my airways. I knew that I would make too much noise walking because of my injured knee, so I got down on all fours and crawled into my parents' room to get the phone. Of all nights for them to go out!!! I picked up the phone on the bedside table and hid underneath the bed, my eyes on the door. Quickly, I punched in 911.

"Nine-one-one. Please state your emergency."

"Please," I whispered, desperation causing my voice to crack. "There's someone in my house, and he wants to hurt me. Please--"

The line went dead.

"Oh, Kitty Cat, come out, come out, wherever you are...." His voice sounded like it was coming from the kitchen. I suddenly remembered where my gun was: in Daddy's office. Still crawling, I cautiously made my way to the downstairs. I was so frightened that He would hear my heart thumping in my chest. I heard a noise, like metal scraping together. I peeked my head around the corner and saw that He was in the kitchen, going through the knife drawer. He pulled out the largest knife we had, the one Mom used to chop beef when we made stir-fry.

I accidentally leaned on my injured knee and let out a hiss of pain. He whirled around and I quickly somersaulted into the next room, cringing with pain, but this time biting my lip to prevent any noise from escaping. He started in walk in my direction slowly... slowly... each footstep coincided with the beat of my heart. I looked up, and noticed that I was in Daddy's office. Almost crying out with joy, I searched his desk for my gun, only to realize that it was in the safe (Daddy had put it in there that night because we were all gonna be out for a while, or were supposed to be).

He was getting closer. I quickly, and quietly as I could, began to spin the dial on the safe. I got the combination finished quickly, but the loud sound of the lock opening caught His attention and he started to run back to the room I was in. I desperately searched the safe for it, and there, on the highest shelf, was the .44 Magnum. I grabbed it just as soon as he found me.

"There you are, Kitten. Whatcha doing?" I turned around and pointed the gun at him, the cool metal against my fingers helping me to keep my calm. I watched the blood drain out of his face. "You don't wanna do that."

"Oh, yes I do. But only if I have to." He looked at the gun, and I could see there wasn't a doubt in his mind that I wouldn't shoot him.

"I'll juts leave now," he said quietly.

I nodded. "You do that." He slowly back out of the room as I followed him, the gun pointed straight at his chest. I kept my eyes on his as I walked him out of the house, never looking away. He tossed the knife aside as he walked out the front door. As soon as he was out I slammed the door behind him and locked, slumped up against it.

Trying to stay alive really took a lot of a person. I sighed, but it soon turned into a sob. I was crying my heart out.

Suddenly, His hand punched through the window beside me and grabbed me through it. The jagged glass tore at my back and everything else. I screamed in a mixture of pain and despair.

"No! No!" He knocked the gun out of my hand and pulled up by my hair, a switchblade at my throat. He was speaking but I wasn't paying him a bit of attention. I made spluttering, choking noises as I desperately reached for my gun. The knife blade began to cut into my throat, and I started to feel dizzy at the sight of my blood, dribbling down the front of my white cheer uniform. My vision was getting spotty, and it was beginning to get darker....

In one last attempt, I elbowed him as hard as I could between the legs. It was enough to make him let go.

I scrambled towards my gun, breathing a sigh of relief when my fingertips found the cool metal. Unseeing, I turned around, pointed, and fired.

The sound was deafening, and made me see even more spots. I felt my way to the side of the house and leaned against it, trying to catch my breath. Slowly, my vision started to clear.

My bullet hit its mark, and He lay on the ground, glaring at me through his slowly-glazing eyes. He tried to speak, but blood was rapidly filling his lungs. A little of it dribbled out the corner of his mouth. Then he was still.

Soon after that -- I'm not sure how soon -- I could hear to sirens, the sirens of the police cars and the ambulances, my parents close behind. They rushed out of the car and my mother screamed as she caught sight of me. She and my father rushed over to me while an EMS checked my pulse. I heard a cop gasp and the distant fizz of the static on the walkie-talkie.

I let out a sigh as I was loaded onto the ambulance and drifted off into some much needed sleep.