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The faint crunch of dry leaves under my feet was the only sound that filled my ears.
That, and the sound that said leaves made under someone else's feet.
Who was this someone else, was something I’d stopped wanting to know a long time ago.
I mentally scolded myself, repeating that I wasn't the only one who lived in that neighborhood, but those false affirmations stopped being valid when, after having gone in circles with no apparent goal and even having entered a supermarket, I still heard those footsteps.
Imagines of those pictures were playing in my mind... Me eating, walking, studying, sleeping. All those red hearts drawn around them... so red. They were clouding my view, overlapping with one another, an endless movie.
I tried to convince myself that there was absolutely no way the person behind that, whoever they may be, had got to know about it so fast, right? I'd just seen them, just gotten out of there...
But maybe they had noticed the absence of that notebook, bearing all those creepy ass pictures, now inside my bag. Or the mess I'd left behind.
Or maybe they had always been one step ahead.
I started walking faster, but I didn't know when.
All kinds of stories were passing through my mind, horrible stories I didn't know I remembered that well when I saw an open cafeteria on that same block.
I went there as fast as I could and, once inside, I felt how my lungs started to once again receive air, as if being inside a public building was going to make everything better, to save me, as if nothing were going to happen to me anymore.
But I had hope.
Maybe it was a mistake. I hadn't forgotten about the photo incident, and if you added my latest and weird fascination with everything related to horror…
Yes, paranoia.
...right?
I chose to sit in the corner; maybe the smell of the toilets just right next to me wasn't the most appalling thing ever, but it let me have a good view of the place and, therefore, everything that was going on, while it felt good to have my back covered.
No one entered the cafe for a long while, and just when I was accepting that maybe I had imagined all that, the sharp noise those little bells made when the front door opened woke me up as if I had just been kicked at.
I hadn't been able to observe him in detail, but I did remember small little things of the shadow I had seen behind me on one of those discreet looks.
I remembered the black clothing, he was tall, it was a man.
It wasn't much, but this person completed the list.
I started grabbing my bag yet again, maybe the best would be to ask some employee for help...
"Liv!"
It felt like waking up from a bad dream once I saw that familiar face sitting in front of me.
It was Elliot, with the same messy hair and simple clothes.
The happiness—the comfort — of finally seeing someone I knew filled me entirely.
"Hi!" It came out more as a sigh of relief.
"What a coincidence to find you here, not many know the place," a dreamy smile lit up his face as he said this.
"Well, yeah... I guess I just accidentally ran into it, and when I really noticed, I was already here." I tried to change topics by letting out a small laugh. "Anyways! It's good to see you! Why don't we have something to eat here?"
His eyes shined for only a second before he directed his face to the menu.
"Of course!"
Soon, what we had asked for was delivered to us: a strawberry milkshake for him, one coffee for me, and some toasts for the two of us. We ended up spending the afternoon talking about a whole load of different things: I was in awe at the number of likes we had in common. Maybe I would start talking about my favorite series, just for Elliot to answer that he was also amazed by it; or he would start to recommend me a book, only for me to say that I had already read it like three times because of how much I liked it.
We took notice of how late it was, and he luckily did me the favor of accompanying me home, so the laughs didn't stop for a while.
And, really, everything was going well, so well, wonderfully.
Was.
But, out of nowhere, he just... said that. Those words, his gaze, just the way he expressed that.
"Things have been disappearing from our classroom, did you know?"
It was something normal anyone would say, given the circumstances—those kinds of things did happen, after all. And it had nothing to do with what I had taken with me today.
"Really? I didn't know, what happened?"
"Nothing out of the ordinary, only a few missing folders and random stuff like that."
I felt how the fast beatings of my heart were slowing down, taking again a calmer rhythm.
"Oh, well, those things happen all the time; I don't even get surprised anymore," I let out a small chuckle, trying to regain the light tone we were talking with before.
We did our last turn before my house came into view, this time without as many laughs or even peace as before, at least, that was my situation: though Elliot looked unbelievably calm, I was extremely anxious at the moment.
"You know... I'd usually say the same thing, but this time, something was stolen from me." He then turned to me, and smiled kindly, "Sometimes one doesn't really take notice of how bad things truly are until said things happen to them."
"Well, that... But can't you ask the school to look for whatever you lost or something like that?"
He seemed to think about it for a few seconds until he said no with his head.
"No... I'm pretty sure it can't be found at the school grounds anymore."
"Why do you say that? Do you know who took your stuff?"
And with that half smile of his, he said:
"I'm afraid I have a really accurate idea of who it may be. Moreover," he got even closer, expanding his smile, "I believe you know very well whom I am talking about."
It was as if, suddenly, a big rock had fallen on me, and I was scared of collapsing any second now.
"Hah, I really don't, sorry."
"I know what you did, you don't have to pretend now."
Was it even possible for me to get paler?
"But I really don't know..."
He sighed, clearly impatient at me for not telling the truth, yet still holding that gentle demeanor; but it didn't make sense, had it really been him? It couldn't have, I couldn't even imagine it, but everything he was saying... it all hinted the opposite.
"I understand it may all seem weird right now, I guess we will have to converse about it later; but, for now, please give the photos back, you see, they're really important to me."
I was panicking; I felt how my heart picked up at a fast pace and the tears started filling my eyes.
I tried to take in slow breaths to quiet down, but of course, that didn't work out, it wouldn't now. Had he seriously been stalking me all this time? But he couldn't have... Maybe I was missing something, I didn't understand anything...
But I wasn't missing anything, I knew all there was to know about. There was something wrong going on; maybe I didn't know what it meant, but I knew it was happening.
I felt paralyzed, I wished to run, run as fast as I could, lock myself inside my room, and never come back, but I couldn't move.
What was supposed to happen now? He had just discreetly admitted to stalking me, to be the owner of those obnoxious pictures, and I had no idea what to do with that.
"Tsk, you look like you have just seen a ghost," then he laughed, that motherfucker laughed, "but seriously, I want the photos back, and I believe you understand I can't just trust you with them," then, for the first time, a frown decorated his face, while he mumbled, "they aren't mine, anyways..."
I took notice of the last thing he said.
They weren't his?
So, was someone else involved in all this, then? That just made things so much fucking worse.
Why? Why did this have to happen? Why did I have to find those horrendous pictures?
Why?
Tears started rolling down my face, and for the first time, I was scared.
Apparently, he hadn't yet decided what his feelings for me were because his frown deepened at the sight.
"Hey, don't cry, I didn't mean to scare you like that."
What the fuck?
“I know this might seem scary right now, but I swear we don't want to hurt you."
We.
So, it was a "we", it was a "them", as in more than one person, more than one fucking sociopath.
I didn't realize I had sat down until I saw Elliot—fucking friendly, kind Elliot— crouch down in front of me.
He took my hand in his.
"Listen, I know this seems like too much to take in, but I don't have time to explain it right now."
His thumb caressed the back of my hand in what I would have thought was the sweetest gesture if our circumstances were completely different.
"I need you to hand me the pictures, Liv."
But I didn't have the strength to move, I couldn't even think properly.
He kindly took hold of my bag, and then searched inside, satisfied when he quickly found the damn notebook.
"There, good. That's all I needed; it wasn't that hard, was it?"
He then hugged me and helped me slowly get up. He was gentle about it, the whole time.
Why?
I couldn't stop thinking about that as he held me even closer to him and kissed my forehead.
"I know it may look so complicated right now, but everything will make sense later," his kisses were so hypocritical and tender, "Go home, love. I will see you tomorrow."
He squeezed me harder one last time and let me go, and it was clear as day on his face that he wouldn't go anywhere until I got inside safely.
I did my best to walk inside, and apparently, I succeeded as the next thing I remember was being curled up in my bed.
My head was going a million miles a minute, every thought messier than the one before. I realized I really wanted to stop hiding under my covers, thinking about everything nonstop because it was fucking me up, but I was so scared. Whenever I thought about just getting up, I was filled with the terrifying feeling of people watching me all the time; a fucking movie wouldn’t distract me from this, the mere idea sounded ridiculous.
Eventually, the adrenaline died down, and I stayed like that, hugging myself, numb and without a fucking doubt of what I was going to do next, until my own tiredness got the best of me and, slowly, I allowed my body to drift off.