Touch of Deception

ELEVEN

It's been days and she hasn't felt she's being followed. She's glad. Gail was still insisting on fetching her from work and she'd say no. Gail can't do it forever. They can't do it forever. She can't be scared forever. She's been walking alone after her shift and she hasn't felt anything suspicious. And she hoped the stalker stopped. 

She didn't tell her parents about it. They'd just get worried. Her mom would call every other day to check on her and she'd say she's doing well. Because she is doing well. She likes it here. She likes the fact that she has a roommate that looks out for her. She likes the fact that she has a job. She likes the fact that she's in an actual school and not learning at home. She likes the fact that she's starting to meet new people. One creepy stalker can't beat out all of those things she liked in her new life. She wouldn't let it destroy it. 

She clenched the screwdriver's handle tightly as she walked home alone that night. When she reached the quiet part, she walked faster. But she couldn't hear any footsteps or anything suspicious. Until she got home, she didn't feel anything strange much to her delight. 

Gail texted her she's going home. She only lives an hour away from school. Which means she'll spend the whole weekend alone in the apartment. She would surely miss Gail's presence but she doesn't mind being alone for two days. And besides, she thought, she has a lot to do on weekends and has to finish it before Monday. She doesn't like procrastinating. 

She didn't really have any plans other than to study. When she was back home, she loved to paint. In fact, she has several artworks in a folder. She regretted not bringing her painting materials. And thinking about it at that moment, she wanted to paint. So she went to get her notebook and wrote her plans. It helps her get productive. Because there was a point in her life where she lost all motivation to do anything. There was a point in her life where she just wants to lay on her bed all day and stare at the ceiling. She lost all her passion to do anything. But painting helped. The more she stared into the ceiling, the more she could picture out something from the plain white canvas. It was great progress. That's why the moment she asked her mother to buy her some painting materials, her mother was ecstatic about it. 

And so she started to paint. She didn't care if it was not as good but she kept painting beside her window where she could get adequate light. She would paint her flower vase with fresh flowers. Her mother changes it every other day and she loved to paint it. That was one of her favorites. Sometimes, she would paint the books on her shelves, or the clothes on her closet. Until she challenged herself and she drew the top of the houses next to their house. Her room was on the second floor and it was easy for her to overlook the whole area. It turned out well and she got the feeling of fulfillment and satisfaction that she craved for more. She started painting the mountains up ahead, the sunshine, the sunset, even the children playing at the vacant lot next to their house. 

After that, she started writing too. The counseling sessions made her do it. And it felt good. It felt nice to write what she thinks, what she feels. It was hard at first but she learned how to be honest with herself. And so she wrote to her heart's content. And she figured maybe she should try writing again. 

And so the next day, she found herself in the mall. It was the first time since she got into this city. She heaved a deep breath before she started roaming around. She had to visit each floor to look for the school supplies section and when she found it, she bought what she needed. Before she was scared to go out alone but she didn't feel more invisible than she's ever been. She liked it. And so she took her time and roamed around, browsing for books to read or food to eat. She even watched a movie alone. She enjoyed it too much that she didn't realize it was already almost seven o'clock in the evening.

The mall was just a thirty-minute walk from the university. The streets were crowded as she walked past. Streetfood stalls were packed and the shops were packed too. She went inside a small restaurant to buy takeout. She's too hungry to cook.

The shop wasn't as packed as the others probably because it's not yet dinnertime for most of the people there. And she thought the street food was more attractive to students. 

She went to the counter and told the part-timer her order. When she was about to turn to one of the tables to wait, she halted when she saw a group of people at the far end of the restaurant. What stopped her was that Matt was one of them. And he was looking at her. She didn't know what to do and just nodded slightly before she sat on one of the chairs with her back facing the group. 

They were noisy. And the staff said she'd have to wait for ten minutes for her order to be ready. That means she'll have to endure ten minutes of Matt's glances. So she fished her book out and started reading it. There were no other people inside the restaurant but her and the group of people behind her. So she couldn't help but hear what they were saying. 

"Adams has lots of girlfriends. Maybe you could give us some," one of them said and they all roared with laughter. 

"That's not true, Will. Shut up." She heard Matt said and she could definitely feel his stare from behind. She looked at the glass wall reflection and indeed, Matt was staring in her direction. She just prayed he won't come close. The last thing she would ever want is to be the center of their mockery. So she continued reading and tried to focus on her book when one of them said, 

"Jason saw you a few days you were walking with a girl. Who's she?" 

She froze. It can't be her. She stopped flipping on her book and found herself listening to what Matt has to say. She knew he knew she doesn't like attention. That's why he stepped back yesterday when they saw a group of guys coming in their direction. Matt knows she doesn't want to get involved. She wondered what he would say.

"A classmate from my class. We have to do a report on history class and we're partners. Why are you all so eager to know about who I was with?" 

"We're just curious, man." 

And then all of them, except Matt, roared with laughter. 

She was thankful the staff delivered her order already. And so she took it and was about to walk out the door when Matt called her name. 

She was pinned on her spot, wondering why he called her name. She looked at him as he walked closer. He then picked her book on the table and handed it to her. 

"You were about to leave this behind," he said. 

The others went silent and she couldn't say a word too. But she took the book and mumbled her thanks and immediately went out of the restaurant. She closed her eyes firmly. Hoping they wouldn't be making an issue out of it. 

She arrived in the apartment. Her breathing was labored as she was walking fast to get home. What happened kept repeating in her mind and then she realized she shouldn't be thinking much about it. She shouldn't be stressing out about it. She slumped on her bed and stared at the book she almost left. Shooking her head, she stood up and took her chemistry books. 

And when she went to sleep that night, it was the same dream. But she was lying on the road in the dead of the night. The party music was faint in her ears. She doesn't know if it was because she just got hit by a car that her hearing got damaged or if she was far enough from her friend's house. But all of it disappeared as she saw a man crouching down in front of her. The light coming from the car behind him prevented her to see his face. She wanted to ask for help but speaking became difficult. And genuine fear crept through her as the man reached to touch her face. She couldn't move. She felt so helpless.

She jolted up from her bed, panting. Beads of sweat ran trickle down her forehead and also her back. She looked at the time and it was one o'clock in the morning.

She ran her hands through her hair, taking deep breaths as she tried to stop her trembling hands.

It's just a dream.

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