The Girl with Cat's Eyes

C H A P T E R 18

Can you see

The people

The girl

Scared, alone

Can't do it on her own,

Eyes that follow,

Never leave,

But never see

C H A P T E R 18

It was cold, and I lay shivering under the blankets. I could feel it, something, there, watching, waiting. What for I didn't know. But I could feel it. And I knew it knew I could sense it. I could feel the joy it felt when it played with me, I could feel how it loved to hear my heart beat increase, my breathing get shallower, quicker. Tears slipped from behind my eyelids but I buried my face in my pillow. I couldn't sleep, shifted under the covers. I lay on my side, facing the window into the forest. The darkness seemed to engulf the top of the trees, so I could barley tell the difference between the branches and the sky. There were no stars only grey black clouds, and and eerie silence had setteled upon the land around the house. I couldn't hear anything. Just feel it, sense it. I tried closing my eyes again but it made the feeling worse.

And then I saw it.

A figure in the trees.

Moving, watching.

And they moved their head.

And I saw their face.

And our eyes met, as I screamed.

It was a dream. Just a dream. That's what they told me. But I could have sworn they were real. Those- oh- so- familiar eyes. That horrid mouth, and that greasy hair. I felt like he was watching me, following me, every where I went. I was always looking over my shoulder. I felt like I was drowning, permanently worried about him being there, behind me, watching. I knew him. He probably would have hired people all over the world to search for me, just to intimidate me, but he was a smart guy, and he would find his own leads, look for me himself, find me when no one else could. He would chase me down, enjoying it as he did so, enjoying playing with me, scaring me.

He had people every where, knew every one, had all the contacts, legal and illegal. And he could phone just about anyone any where up, and blackmail, bribe, or trick them into doing what he wanted them to, into finding me.

He knew I was scared, he knew I hated his games. He enjoyed seeing me crumble, knowing that everyday that passed he was there in the back of my mind. He enjoyed knowing I wouldn't talk because of him, that at first I wouldn't write or draw because of him. And he enjoyed thinking that I would never sing again. But I would. I would show him. But it would be hard, very, very hard. Because he knew his tactics well.

He knew me well.

And he would find me.

Hunt me down.

It was all a matter of time.

There was only one question in my mind:

When?