Stalker

When the inexplicable anxiety, panic, and dread take hold of me, I always find myself drawn to this place. I sit here now, on the usual bench tucked away deep within the forest, overlooking the circular stone fountain as it endlessly spews water into the air. Not many know of this secluded beauty. Honestly, I don't even remember how I know about it.

The sounds of birds chirping and flowing water fill the air with a sense of calm. It is the perfect place to relax and read my book. As usual, there is no one else here except for the girl sitting on the other side of the fountain. I don't think I've ever come here without finding her already sitting there. Same time. Same place. Same seat.

She is reading, like me, though I can never make out what book it is from over here. I've snuck many glances her way these past few months, but she has never once looked up from her book. Lately, I have found myself more interested in her than whatever I'm reading. Something about her simply demands my attention. Compels me to look at her. To think only of her.

Five seconds. Ten. Thirty. A minute. I can't take my eyes off of her now. Was she always this beautiful?

As if finally sensing my gaze, the girl slowly raises her head until her eyes meet mine.

I immediately look back down in embarrassment, finding a renewed interest in my book. But no matter how hard I stare at the words on the page, I can only think of her. The way her amber eyes sparkled in that instant before I looked away. Her lustrous, midnight-black hair flowing down to her mid-back, contrasting sharply with her snowy-white skin.

I've never seen a girl like her.

About five minutes have passed now since we made eye contact. Finally giving in to the urge to look back up, I allow myself a small smile before raising my head.

My heart skips a beat—my blood runs cold. The girl's face is deathly calm, completely devoid of human emotion. Her eyes are wide and staring straight through mine, as though I do not exist.

She does not turn. She does not move. She does not even blink.

My face goes red with embarrassment—or is it fear?

Doesn't matter.

Something's not right, and I won't be sticking around to find out what.

I gather my things and make a dash for the trail back to my car.

Not exactly how I imagined our first interaction going.

What the hell even was that?

Seriously?

This is the first time I've actually wished to forget a pretty girl staring at me.

The forest is dense, and the paths form a winding maze. More than a little freaked out, I walk at an Olympic-level pace to get back to my car. The hike is normally around forty-five minutes, but I can probably shave it down to thirty.

After about five minutes of speed-walking and going off trail and back on to save time, I finally come to a stop to catch my breath. Feeling safe and hidden, I breathe a sigh of relief, wiping the sweat off my brow. Guess I'll be finding a new reading spot.

Up ahead, something unusual blocks the path. A figure stands motionless, imposing as a statue. It takes only a couple more steps before I recognize it. I breathe in sharply.

It's her.

Anxiety. Dread. Panic.

I pivot and stumble into a frenzied sprint. How is she there? Why? Who is she?

My joints creak. My lungs struggle desperately for air. My heart hammers in my chest.

Something's not right.

I run deeper into the forest, jumping over streams, sliding under fallen trees, and wading across the river.

I crawl back onto land and scramble up the riverbank, forcing my way through the thicket. Scratched up and bleeding, I duck beneath the last of the shrubs.

Finally, back on the path.

I am not alone.

Looming over me is her.

Those same hollow eyes. That same uncanny, expressionless face. Staring down at me.

I throw a handful of dirt in her eyes before shuffling to my feet. I flee like a rabbit pursued by a hawk, desperately searching for a place to hide from the predator's all-seeing eyes.

I round a corner at full speed, grabbing a tree branch to swing myself around without losing momentum.

My tricks do not matter.

She waits for me, rooted to the trail ahead.

She just stands there, eyes wide and hollow.

Something's not right.

My momentum nearly sends me sprawling as I screech to a stop. Stumbling, I run to the right, off trail and deeper into the open forest. I sprint, weaving between trees, tearing through the foliage, and jumping over logs and streams to get away. 

My body can no longer keep going. My hands surrender to my knees, lungs begging for air, legs shaking from exhaustion. I look around like a wild animal—frantic, but she is nowhere to be seen.

A slight smile creeps across my lips. Then a small chuckle. Before I know it, I am laughing maniacally, unable to stop. The chase sure is thrilling, despite the terror of being the prey.

Just who is that girl?

What does she want with me?

How does she keep reappearing wherever I go?

She seems to be gone for now, though. I take a deep breath and stand up straight, calming my thoughts to gauge the situation rationally—if that's even possible at this point. My hands still shake from the adrenaline, but my breathing has steadied, as well as my thoughts.

The trees sway as the wind rustles through the leaves, bringing with it the cool afternoon air. The ground beneath my feet is covered with dead leaves, thick shrubs, and tangled vines. Dense foliage obscures the way ahead, making it impossible to spot any pursuers.

About ten minutes have passed, and there has been no sign of the girl.

Did I lose her?

Was she even real?

I decide it's safe enough to begin the trek back to the car. The low-hanging branches and thorny bushes tear at my clothes and skin as I push my way through.

Could I really have imagined all that?

No. Of course not.

Right?

But then what?

Am I supposed to accept that that thing is real—not just real, but pursuing me?

Nothing makes sense.

I can't trust my own mind.

The familiar anxiety rises within me, the pit in my stomach big enough to swallow me whole.

Lost in thought as I walk, I fail to notice the changing terrain beneath the dense shrubbery. My foot finds nothing but air where it expected to find solid ground—I hit the ground hard and tumble down the hidden embankment. Dirt fills my mouth as branches tear apart my arms. I crash through a wall of low-hanging foliage before my back slams against something solid, bringing me to a stop.

Groaning and cursing, I cough up bloodied dirt while wiping my eyes. I remain on my back, staring at the curtain of branches hanging over me, thick with leaves, drooping so low that some rest against the forest floor. Above, an enormous trunk divides into twisting limbs, its crown spreading outward until it forms something like a room.

I can no longer see the path. I can hardly see the forest beyond the branches.

It feels like another world.

I have never ventured this deep into the forest, never even known a place like this existed here. But then why does it feel so familiar? And why am I shaking?

Something's not right.

Once I’ve regained my senses and made sure I'm not seriously injured, I roll onto my side and begin to stand.

I freeze and go pale.

There is a hand in the leaves beside me.

My eyes follow the pale arm upward.

Midnight-black hair.

Lifeless face.

Amber eyes frozen wide in horror, staring straight through mine as they have done this entire time.

It's her.

I scream, pushing myself away from her and scrambling backward until my shoulders strike the trunk.

She does not react.

She does not move.

She does not blink, nor does she breathe. 

I cautiously examine the lifeless girl before me.

My hands begin to tremble.

That familiar anxiety.

That inexplicable dread.

The panic that always brings me to this forest.

Only now, it is not inexplicable.

 I… I remember now.

Her name was Emilia.