The Shadow Stalker Around Her

Chapter 1

Skyla

(Present)

"Hey, pretty, where are you? Come out now. Your daddy is here. Don't make him wait any longer." I heard my foster father said in a slurry voice. I was hiding inside the closet, curling up myself as a ball. 

I was shivering in fear, knowing if he caught me again, he would touch me in the places which made me feel very uncomfortable. It was not new for me. Every day he comes home being drunk and begins looking for me in my room. My foster mother still is not home. She blames me for whatever her husband is trying to do to me. Is it my fault? No one comes to my rescue. They always turn their back to me.

I was sobbing quietly, hearing him, saying, "Little one, come on. I can't wait any longer here." I was praying to God to send my foster mother fast so that she took him away from here.

My foster mother isn't good for me at all. She is a cruel lady. She thought I intentionally made his husband seduce her so he could leave her. And that wasn't true. I tried to tell thousands of times that it was he who came home drunk every night and tried to search for me. But she never listened and beat me with a leather belt, or heated pan, and used to burn my skin. I cry and beg for mercy to leave me and it's hurting a lot, but never did she ever give value to my life and vented her anger on me. Every day I got new bruises on my body, and the neighbor used to look at me with pitiful eyes.

Suddenly, I heard him saying, "I found you!" I screamed out in fear, and he laughed sinisterly at me. I didn't want him to touch me. "Now ready for the punishment, Little one." No! God save me.

He grabbed my arms in a tight grip and threw me over my bed. I immediately moved backward before he could jump on me. Whimpering, I said, "P-please, f-father, l-leave me. I am y-your d-daughter."

"No, I am not your father. You aren't my daughter. But my little one, I am your daddy. Don't you want to make your daddy happy?" He said. I cringed, looking at his eyes. I didn't know what he meant, but I was sure he was going to assault me again. I wanted an end there.

He started touching me everywhere. I was just fourteen. I felt like I was going to throw up. I begged him, "P-please, l-leave m-me. D-don't t-touch m-me." I was struggling, getting away from his hold. But I couldn't. He was stronger than me. I wanted someone to save me.

Putting a finger over my mouth, he said, "Shhh. Don't make a noise. Let your daddy have his way on you this time. Then I will leave you." No! he can't do this to me. I can't let him violate my body. I am just a kid.

I started punching and kicking him. I yelled top of my lung, thinking maybe someone out there will come and try to help me. So I yelled, "HELP! HEL- uhh- " But before anyone could hear my voice, he put his palm over my mouth, said, "Today, I am going to do what I wanted to do for a long time, little one. And no one can stop me this time. No one." I started to get myself out of his hold, listening to him. I needed to save myself from him.

Before he could tear my clothes off, he fell over me, and his eyes looking lifeless and eyeball were like bulging out from his socket. The next thing I felt my clothes getting wet. I frowned. As I touched my clothes and brought them in front of my face, I screamed in horror. Blood. His blood. I looked at his eyes again, and I knew he was dead. I screamed in horror.

I felt like someone was shaking my shoulder vigorously. I heard a voice saying, "Skyla! Skyla, my dear. Wake up!" Aren't I already awake? Isn't my foster father's corpse laying over me and staring at me with black bulging eyes? I felt numb. My throat was dry. I couldn't talk or scream.

Then I felt a light slap on my cheek, and someone said again, "Honey, Wake up! Please." Who was she? Why couldn't she see that person laying over me, and dead? Then I felt someone threw water over my face. I jolted awake. I was looking here and there. I checked my dress. No, no blood there. I wasn't in my foster home. The room I was in, pretty cozy. It was bigger and beautiful. Wait! Where am I?

Then my eyes landed on an old lady, who was looking at me with concern filled eyes. For a few moments, I couldn't recognize that woman at all. Then I remember who she was. Without thinking twice, I threw my arms over her and started crying over her shoulder. She is the old lady whom I call granny. She is like a guardian angel in my life. I love her and think of her as my only family. Let's tell you how I met this elder woman, my granny. I heard her saying, "Skyla, my poor child. Everything will alright. Keep faith in God, dear." She was rubbing my back and trying to soothe my pain, the pain of past and present. Yes, I have no idea how I am going to get rid of my issues. My life could never be the same. It has all started from that horrific day.

(Past)

That day, I ran away from my foster home by taking my bag and shoved every clothes, books, and other, my money, and documents everything inside and ran away from there before changing my clothes. I left nothing behind. I didn't want to know how he died or was killed. I didn't care. I only wanted to leave that place and I did. I went to the nearby station and bought a ticket. Hopping inside the nest train, I left that place forever. I vowed to never go back to that place again. I went far away from that place. The train approached the last station early in the morning. I couldn't sleep. How could I sleep when a few hours ago my foster dad died and laid over my body? Hopping off the last station, I started walking toward the main road. It looked like a beautiful town, surrounded by big trees.

I was admiring the view of that place, with small houses and shops everywhere, suddenly my feet were getting cold. I felt like someone was following me. That person was looking at me with an intense gaze. Before I knew it, I took off running. There had no way I would stay still and let that person follow me around wherever I go. I ran for how long only God knows. Ignoring everyone's gaze, I ran. When I stopped, I fell in front of a sweet shop and lose consciousness.