With You
Warnings: this fic contains stalking and violence. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.
18+ only, explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
You voted, I wrote it. This is the next June fic! (It’s late. Sorry)
Syverson + “I gave you a chance to play nice.”
I welcome and appreciate all feedback. This means replies, reblogs, and asks. I do prefer if you can reblog and share my work along with your thoughts. <3
“Please. I have a video. Several.” You beg the officer as his interest clings to his phone. “I kept a notebook. Tracked everything. Just like you said.”
“I said?” Officer Garret frowns as his phone makes chinging noises as he makes a combo move in whatever mobile game he’s addicted to.
“Well… the last officer. That what he said to do. Make notes, take pictures. I did it all. The marks on my door, the letters left at my door, the gifts–”
“So you’re reporting a secret admirer?” He scoffs.
“I’m reporting… I’m terrified. This man won’t leave me alone. I have video of him looking in my window! He climbed the fire escape and–” You sigh and throw up your hands, clapping them back down on the notebook full of time-stamped notes. “I just want to be left alone. He’s been calling me, texting me. All these weird things. Pictures of me on the bus and at work.”
“Right.” He puts his phone down and crosses his arms, “how would I prove these are aggravated? That this isn’t some friend pulling a smart one trying to scare you?”
“It’s been over a year, please. I’ve filed six reports. You told me– They told me this was the right way.” You beg. “You have to help me.”
He stares at you. He takes a deep breath and rolls his chair closer to his desk. He sits up and sniffs.
“Sure, a seventh report.” He clicks his mouse with a roll of his eyes. “The eight will be obstruction charges.”
You blink, stunned. All you’ve done is what you’re told. Don’t wear ear buds, stay aware, lock your doors, don’t take the same route every day, keep a record…
“Forget it.” You hiss and stand up, gathering your notebook and purse.
You turn and stomp out at the officer chuckles. You hurry out, face on fire, chest fuming, hands shaking. As you come outside, you rub your temples and sigh. Your heart races as helplessness tingles through your body.
What do you do? What can you do? You tried and done everything! You just want whoever it is to leave you alone.
It’s not like you have friends. That you draw attention. You do everything not to. You’ve never been a fan of it. You go to work, clock in, hide in your cubicle, and mind your business. Then you go home, making yourself as small as you can on your commute, and lock yourself in your tiny apartment. You pay everything on time and rarely venture out of your space. Especially since this all began.
You look around warily. There’s nothing out of the ordinary. People pass you by without notice. Whoever is watching you, is subtle. Clever.
You turn down the road and head to a different bus route than the one you took there. That’s one of your tricks, not that any of them work. You wait a couple minutes before the bus comes and step on.
As everyone else buries their noses in books or screens, you’re alert. You sit in one of the side seats so your back is to the windows. There’s no one that stands out to you. You listen to the sniffles, the coughs, and the conversations. You get off two stops early and walk the rest of the way.
You approach your building with key in hand. You can feel the vibration of your phone in your purse. They’ve grown more steady the closer you get to home. You grip your key, ready to jab at anyone who might sneak up.
You check over your shoulders as you unlock the door. You go inside and close it until you hear the latch slide back into place. You take the stairs. You check behind you over and over and over. Until you’re dizzy.
You reach your apartment door and unlock the three locks on it. Your landlord won’t be impressed at the additional hardware. You lock each from the inside and double check the handle. You walk through the apartment, turning on every light; not that there’s more than the walk-through kitchen, the living room, bedroom, and bathroom. You even check the singular closet.
Alone, not safe. You put down your notebook and pull your bag into your lap as you sit on the sagging couch. You open your phone. There’s messages from six different numbers, on Instagram, through email. You can’t do it anymore. You can’t.
You put the phone down and push your bag off your lap. You stand and grip your head. You pace until you can catch your breath.
You go into the kitchen. You need water. You reach for the cupboard and stop. What the hell?
The knob is reattached. You’ve been struggling for weeks with the thing. Your landlord has ignored all your maintenance requests. So you leave it open or claw at the edge until it pops open. But now, the knob is back in place. Somehow.
You grab it and try to wiggle it. It’s screwed in tight. You open the cupboard. You can see the screw is new and the way they were able to fill in the wood to hold it. Maybe your landlord did it but you never received notice…
No. You really don’t think it was your no-good overlord.
You cover your face in exasperation. What can you do? You’re out of options. The police don’t help. You don’t have friends. Your family is only that by technicality.
You drop your arms and scurry around the wall to the front room. You grab your phone; block number, block, block, block. You tap app icons and go through the tedious steps; Account Settings; Delete Account; Are you sure? This is an irreversible action. Yes, yes, yes.
You don’t exist anymore. You’re nothing. You’re no one! Leave me alone!
You slam your phone down and huff. You just want it to stop. You need it to stop. Whoever it is just needs to go away. Why won’t they just get the message? You don’t want them.
💜
You haven’t slept in your bed in months. You’re never tired enough, calm enough to settle down. You stay on the couch and watch TV in a daze. To the detriment of your back as you feel the metal frame of the couch through the worn down cushions
Your head pounds and you close your eyes. You lean back and let your body slacken. The tension never truly goes. You listen to the conversation of fictional characters with more interesting lives than yours. Safer too.
Your mind swims as the room turns to static around you. Your skin prickles and your ears ring lowly as fatigue washes over you. You need to move. You need to get away from this place. From them.
Your eyes snap open as you sense a shift. The TV’s still on but the lights aren’t. You don’t turn them off when you’re home. Never.
The metal frame of the couch creaks. Your mouth opens, ready to scream, as a hand strokes your arm. Before your horror can erupt, a finger presses to your lips.
The figure hushes you. “It’s okay. It’s just me, honey.”
Your heart lurches and your stomach knots. You’re nauseous as the deep voice infests your ears. You shake as this thick finger traces your lips. The man hums.
“I was scared. You disappeared.” He drawls as he continues to pet your arm. “Right after you were with them police… I thought… something happened.”
You shudder and heave in a shaky breath. You turn to look at the shadow turned real. The man is big. Much bigger than you. Burly. HIs blue eyes twinkle softly in an otherwise coarse face. His head is shaved, brows and beard thick, nose as rugged as his square jaw. You quiver.
“Who… who are you?”
He smiles and cradles your chin. “What? You know me. Honey, I know you get my letters. My messages. My calls.”
Your eyes sting with fear as you lean away from him. He catches you around the throat and tuts.
“You’re not running away from me, are you? That’s not why you were talking to Officer Garret.” He growls.
You blink. “How–”
“How can I keep you safe if you hide?” He snips over you.
Your lashes flutter and you grab his wrist. With both hands as you realise how thick it is. You try to push him off. “Let me go.”
“Honey, calm down. I’m just checking on you. Making sure you’re okay. You scared me.”
You stare at this stranger, this spectre who’s haunted you for so long. You shake your head.
“You. Scare. Me.” You whisper.
He frowns and his hand shakes. Then he lets you go and rubs his palms together. He slumps but it does little to lessen his size.
“No, I don’t want that. I just want…” He looks at you again and reaches for you. “I just want to take care of you.”
He touches your cheek again. He turns his hand and brushes his knuckles along your skin. A surge of frustration and fear swells in your veins. You turn your head and sink your teeth into his thumb.
He grunts and recoils. You let go as his other arm swings out. He backhands you off the couch with a crack that has your ears humming. You land on the hardwood with an oomph. You roll over and crawl away from him.
“Stop! Please! Leave me alone!” You cry out. You suck in air as you push yourself higher on your hands and knees. “Someone! Anyone! Help–”
He steps over you and smothers your shouts with his large hand. He hooks his other arm around you and scoops you off the floor easily. You thrash and claw at him as your voice evaporates behind his roughened palm.
You bow your head forward and throw it back. You feel and hear the impact. He snarls and shakes you, barreling ahead to crush you against the wall. He knocks the breath from you. He pulls his arm from around your middle and grips the back of your skull. He pins you to the wall by your head. He sniffs wetly and snorts.
“I gave you a chance to play nice.” He growls. “I didn’t want it to be this way.”
