R e n e g a d e s (High&Low) v2: Stalked



 「Got love for my home, but if we cry, is there anyone listening?」

I stifled a yawn as I walked down the street, my pale skin covered in a light sheen of sweat from the high humidity. The sun was beating down on the earth, but dark clouds were starting to roll in from the east, a silent promise that a storm was on its way. Hopefully the rain would come sooner rather than later. The thought had me feeling a bit more cheerful.

I came to a stop at the crosswalk, waiting for it to turn from red to green when the hair on the back of my neck suddenly stood on end. It felt as if I was being watched and I scanned the four-way intersection, trying to find the cause. My gaze fell on two Asian men standing directly across the street to my left. They were covered from head to toe in black leather, not a smart choice for the height of summer in Florida, and they were conversing with one another. They look like typical bikers from the movies but why are they watching me?

Then again, both are wearing sunglasses so I couldn’t be sure that they were watching me. They could just be looking in my general direction, but my gut told me otherwise. I decided the best course of action was to pretend as if I hadn’t noticed them and I crossed the street, continuing down the sidewalk toward Bob’s Books, a family-owned bookstore wedged between an antique shop and a second-hand clothing store.

I tugged the glass door open, the tiny bell above it chiming, and carefully placed the dripping umbrella inside the stand beside the door. From where I stood, I could only see two people in the store – the teenage employee reading a magazine behind the counter and an older woman browsing the wall of magazines at the back of the store.

This store isn’t very popular since we have a big brand bookstore just fifteen minutes from here and the other stores aren’t too popular either, but these guys have some pretty good deals. Plus the lack of customers which is great for me but probably not so great for the store owners.

I navigated through the rows of books, running my fingers across their spines as I went. Man, I’d love to work at a store like this, surrounded by an endless sea of books… but it’s not worth dealing with other people, even if it is just a handful of them each shift. I shook my head as I turned the corner and stepped into the manga aisle, smiling at the large selection. Most smaller bookstores don’t carry any manga yet this one has its own aisle dedicated to it.

I hummed thoughtfully, my eyes scanning the titles. I only had enough money to get one book, but I have no idea what to choose. Decisions have never been my strong suit, though – I can stand here for hours and be no closer to choosing one. Even when I do finally make a choice, I usually end up regretting it and wishing I had made a different choice.

The bell above the door chimed again, nearly drowned out by the sound of thunder. I figured it was the old woman leaving so I paid it no mind, eyes narrowing at the shelf of books. My ears perked up when I heard the sound of faint Japanese and I peered around the shelf, seeing the same men from the crosswalk. Before I could pull my head back, the shorter of the two men turned his head and our eyes met.

Normally when I meet someone’s eyes, I immediately look down because it makes me feel super uncomfortable, but this time… I couldn’t tear my eyes away from his. His eyes were so dark, like pools of ink that hypnotized me and threatened to suck me in. His gaze was so cold, too, full of annoyance that rooted me to the spot. My mind was screaming at me that this guy is dangerous.

So, I did what I do best – run away.

Well, I didn’t actually run with my fat ass, I just speed-walked to the exit, feeling the man’s eyes on me the whole way. I quickened my pace, completely forgetting about my umbrella. It wasn’t raining as hard as it had been last night, but the rain was still steadily falling from the gray sky. I made it halfway down the block before I realized and paused, frowning at the ground.

That’s my favorite umbrella… I pictured the teal color and the cartoon llamas that were printed on it. Should I risk going back and grabbing it? I’m probably just being paranoid about those guys. It’s pretty standard for me to fear that people are staring at me or watching me whenever I go out, even though they most likely aren’t. I ran a hand through my damp hair, turning to look back at the door but I didn’t have to ponder the decision for long. The door swung open and the shorter man stepped out with his friend close behind.

His eyes found mine as if they were connected with magnets and I tensed, quickly turning back around and speed walking down the sidewalk. I could hear footsteps behind me but I was too scared to turn around and check to see if the men were following me. Being the negative person I am, my mind instantly went to the worst case scenarios. I thought back to all of the horror stories that I’ve listened to on YouTube and I swallowed hard, shoving my hand into the pocket of my basketball shorts.

Cold metal greeted me and I curled my fingers around the pocket knife, hoping to gain some confidence from it. If they grab me, can I even open it in time? I can’t open it in my pocket because there’s not enough room and I don’t think it would go well if I’m just walking down the street with an open knife clutched in my hand… I took a few deep breaths to try and calm myself.

I’ve been watching too much of those damn horror stories. They’re not following me. I’m safe, I’m perfectly fine. Just relax. That’s what I told myself, but I didn’t actually believe it. I tried to stay calm but after several blocks and various turns, I could still hear the footsteps close behind me.

I came to a stop just before the crosswalk, pretending to read a flyer that had been taped to the light pole. I shifted my weight to the side so I could see behind my from the corner of my eye. Both men had stopped a few feet behind me, talking quietly amongst themselves and looking straight at me. Their sunglasses had been removed so there was no doubt about the staring now. I swallowed hard, turning back to face the street.

The little green man was flashing now, indicating that the light was about to change and it would no longer be safe to cross. Numbers appeared beside the man, counting down from 10. An idea flashed through my mind and I knew it was a bad, dangerous idea. It’s something that would work in a movie, but no so much in real life.

But what choice do I have? These guys are clearly following me and I can tell that they’re very dangerous. As much as I hate being a damsel in distress, I doubt I could even fight my way out of a damn paper bag. Why would they even want to go after me? I’m fat, ugly, and poor. They won’t gain anything from ending my life or kidnapping me. Unless they think they’re doing me a favor in which case… yeah I can see that.

The numbers continued to tick down.

5… I doubt anyone would help me if I screamed for help.

4… I have to do something, though.

3… They’re going to kill me! Or worse, what if they lock me in a room full of spiders?

2… Man up and stop being such a coward, Jen!

1…

The sign turned red, the numbers replaced by the word ‘stop.’ The light changed and cars started to inch forward. My body acted on its own and I darted across the street, ignoring the people that screamed at me. They laid on their horns, tires screeching as they slammed on brakes to avoid hitting me. The two men yelled at me in Japanese, taking off after me. All of it was muffled because of the blood pumping in my ears, though.

I haven’t ran since I was a kid and my body definitely felt it, but I knew I couldn’t stop. Literally, my anxiety was in control of my body and I couldn’t get my legs to stop despite the intense burn in them. In my mind, I was quite literally running for my life so my body reacted accordingly. I took a sharp left down an alley between two businesses, tugging my knife from my pocket as I went. I glanced behind me to see if they were following only to feel someone grab my wrist, cold metal rings pressing against my skin.

My head whipped around, eyes meeting those of the shorter male. For a moment, we just stared at each other, my mind trying to process what was happening. My body once again acted of its own accord, my arm reaching out with the knife and slashing at his arm. He hissed, releasing his grip. I turned on my heel to return to the end of the street but the taller male blocked my way.

“We’re not going to hurt you,” the man told me, his voice heavily accented.

As if I was going to believe that! I turned on my heel and darted back toward the shorter male, holding the knife out in front of me and swinging at him again. He dodged, giving me a chance to slide past him. The alleyway continued to the left, filled with bags of trash and empty cardboard boxes. If I can just make it through the alley and across the street, I’ll be at the flea market and can lose them in the crowd but I can hear their thundering footsteps behind me, getting closer with each passing second.

I felt a hand grab at the back of my shirt, but he didn’t get a good grip and I stumbled forward, nearly tripping over a trash can lid. I kept myself upright, rushing across the street without looking. A car nearly hit me, the driver leaning out the window to yell at me and call me an idiot. But I made it safely across the street and down the next alley. I can see the sea of people at the end, moving from stall to stall as they browsed the items for sale.

I ducked behind a large family of eight, keeping my head down and trying not to look as if I had just been in a chase for my life. I glanced over my shoulder, seeing the men burst into the crowd, looking around frantically for me as he pushed through the crowd. I don’t think he spotted me as he pulled out his phone.

I continued to walk near the family for a block or two before carefully breaking away from the crowd, sneaking into another alley. All I wanted was to stop and take a nap, but I knew I needed to put as much distance as I could between myself and the market. I definitely did not sign up for this damned exercise routine and I knew my body would be screaming bloody murder tomorrow.

I kept going until I reached my block, but I had to take a break. My legs were trembling, my lungs burning and it felt as if my heart was trying to run away from my chest. I fell against a wooden fence, slowly sliding down until my ass hit the wet ground. Did that really just happen? Man, this is why I stopped leaving the damn house. I shouldn’t just ordered the damn book online but then I’d have to pay tax and shipping so the book would be twice the original price. I groaned.

I’m gonna be so sore tomorrow that I’m not gonna be able to walk and I have to work, too. I forced myself to my feet, continuing down the street. Relief flooded me when my house came into view and all I wanted was to crawl into bed and forget about what had just taken place. Of course, no level would be complete without clearing the final boss and man was she in top form.

I stopped in the doorway of my bedroom, watching my mom go around my room with a plastic bag. “What are you doing?”

“I’ve told you a million times – if it’s on the floor, it’s trash.”

I narrowed my eyes at her, in no mood for her shit. “This is my room! You have an entire ass house to clean, why can’t you leave the one area I have to myself alone?”

“Maybe if you would clean it -“

“It’s not even dirty!” I cried in annoyance, throwing my hands up. “Oh wow, there’s some water bottles and some paper on the ground. Have you even looked at your room? There’s so much shit in there you can barely get through the door!”

“My room is clean -“

“No, it’s a clusterfuck of hoarding.”

“I am so tired of you turning things around on me!”

“And I’m tired of you not respecting my one fucking wish! The whole house is exactly how you want it and that’s still not enough for you. You’re such a control freak. Everything has to be exactly how you want it or you lose your shit.”

“You know what, I can’t even talk to you when you’re like this.” She threw the bag onto the floor and left the room, muttering under her breath about what an ungrateful child I am.

“Yeah, run away from the problem like you always do,” I scoffed, slamming the door shut. “You always fucking run away when I tell you how I feel because you can’t handle it.”

I felt so fucking angry and exhausted that I just threw myself onto my mattress, clutching the ring tightly in my hand. Maybe it would have been better if they had captured or murdered me.