Page 34 of Pride

When the train pulled up at her station, she got off, along with two other passengers... and me.

I found myself falling into step behind her, following her at a distance as she strolled down the platform like she didn’t have a care in the world. Her dark brown curls bounced vibrantly in the breeze as she walked with a spring in her step. I knew if I was coming in the opposite direction, walking towards her, I’d see her blue eyes sparkling. Eyes that I had the overwhelming urge to pluck out like sapphires mined from the dirt of the earth. I smiled as I imagined how her sockets would bleed so beautifully with crimson tears. Her screams would fill the air like a perfect symphony. I’d give her an ending to be proud of. Something poetic. A death that a heartless philistine deserved.

She skipped up the steps of the train station, and I debated following her home, watching her walk up her little path, unlockher door, and find the parcel waiting for her. But I didn’t; I walked on.

There was no rush.

This was a piece of art I was going to take my time over.

The downfall of Emma Belmont.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

EMMA

Ipushed through the door of the local police station. For early evening, it was surprisingly quiet. There was a man in uniform sitting behind the desk, tapping away at his computer. When he saw me coming in, he stopped and looked up.

“How can I help you?” he asked, and I glanced around, unsure how much I should disclose in the reception area.

“I need to report something.” I walked closer to the desk and leaned forward, so I could lower my voice. “I have a stalker.”

He nodded, not surprised in the slightest. I guess this was an everyday occurrence for him.

“I need to take a few details,” he stated, and I gave him my name, address, and phone number, and then, he said, “And who is it that’s stalking you? Is it someone you know? An ex, perhaps?”

I knew whatever I said next would sound ridiculous, but I didn’t know how else to word it.

“I don’t know who it is.”

He stopped typing and stared back at me blankly.

“You’re being stalked, and you don’t know who by?”

I shrugged. “That’s not unusual, you know. Most people are stalked by a stranger.”

“I understand that, Miss Bel...”

“Emma,” I interjected. “And he isn’t really a stranger. I mean I have seen him, but I haven’t met him. I know who he is, but I don’t know who he is.”

He shook his head, a puzzled expression on his face. He obviously thought I was a crazy person.

“I’m confused,” he stated, leaning forward on his desk and giving me his full attention. “You’ve seen him, but you haven’t met him. You know who he is, but you don’t know who he is. Excuse me if I’m speaking out of turn, but are you okay, miss? Do you need to see someone from the community support team to discuss your mental health needs?”

I gritted my teeth, rolled my eyes, and then blew out an exasperated breath.

“Yes, I’m fine. And no, I don’t need to see someone about my mental health. I might do soon, though, if someone doesn’t take this seriously.”

He looked startled for a second, and from his confused expression, I could tell he didn’t believe for a minute that I was okay.

He studied my face briefly, before saying, “Let’s start at the beginning, shall we? What’s happened? What would you like to report?”

I took a deep breath and told him, “I went to see an artist. His name is S.K.A.M.”

“I love his work,” the officer replied, his eyes lighting up at the mention of S.K.A.M., and he grinned a stupid grin back at me.

“Yeah, I did too. But then I didn’t.”

The policeman nodded, making notes as he listened to me.