Cellar Door by Suzanne Steele

feel my nerves on edge. I hate what my stalker is doing to me, how he’s making me feel.
    I discreetly eye the people seated around me. One woman’s dressed like she’s headlining at a strip joint or working a corner downtown. She smacks steadily on her chewing gum and I jerk my head away when she notices me staring. My eyes land on a homeless man who is opening and closing the same plastic bag every few seconds. The way he keeps checking its contents, you’d think he had just pulled off a bank heist. A middle-aged woman in a rumpled, stained waitress uniform stares straight ahead, lost in thought.
    People watching occupies my mind for the rest of the ride and I nearly miss my stop. Rising hastily from my seat, I pull the overhead chord to let the driver know that we’ve reached my stop. It isn’t my usual bus driver and I damn sure don’t want to miss my stop and have to walk an extra five blocks instead of just one.
    My heart begins to race as I step off the bus and onto the curb. I watch the bus pull away until its tail lights disappear at the next intersection. On Sunday nights my neighborhood is a ghost town, with every boutique and even the coffee shop closing up early. The streets are deserted and even the brisk evening breeze seems to have stilled abruptly, leaving an eerie silence in its wake.
    With the collar of my coat pulled up around my throat, I put my head down and walk briskly with a sense of purpose. My coat does little to keep me warm. I can’t help but wonder if I’m trembling because of the cold or if fear is intensifying the night air’s chilly bite against my skin. This one-block jaunt feels more like a mile. I’m seconds away from climbing the front steps of my apartment building when my worst fears are realized.
    “Where ya goin’ in such a hurry? If you want to live, you better scurry, scurry, scurry!”
    The thready, sing-song voice slithers through the night air, winding its way around my ankles, coiling around my neck, cutting off my breath. I freeze in place as a figure emerges from the shadows. His gray hoodie is pulled low, obscuring his features as he circles me slowly. But I’d know that creepy voice anywhere.
    Shock dulls my reflexes and the split second of hesitation costs me dearly. I make a move to run, hoping to catch the doorman’s attention, but he’s away from his post and I’m too late. My attacker grabs me by the collar of my coat and slams me into the wall of my apartment building. The impact drops me to the sidewalk and I black out briefly. A pinching sensation in my neck elicits a moan from my dry throat. I try to shake my head to get my bearings, but my muscles won’t obey the frantic distress signals from my brain.
    He grabs my ankles and drags me across the sidewalk toward the alley. My head bounces across the cracked and crumbling surface, my hair snagging on jagged chunks of concrete. I have to stop him. If he gets me to the alley, I’m as good as dead. But it’s no use. The onset of an excruciating headache is the last thing I remember before my world fades to black.

His Abduction
    The cold wind nips at my skin as I peer out from my hiding place around the corner from her apartment. I’m lying in wait.   Although this section of the city has closed down for the night, the distant sounds of the city amp up my senses. Occasional sirens and blaring car horns jar my heightened nerves. A series of deep breaths helps me brace for the burst of adrenalin that will signal the start of tonight’s mayhem.
    I take a final, long drag and crush the butt of my cigarette beneath my running shoe. I’m beginning to wonder if I’ve missed her getting off the bus. I took a chance and caught a cab here when I saw her leave the hospital later than usual. I’ll be pissed if I’ve missed her. There’s no margin for error tonight; too much depends on my plan being executed perfectly.
    I’ve already alerted Lance to what I’m doing and when I close my eyes I swear I can