I know there's someone following me. I can hear there feet patting the ground as they walk. Their breathing so paced, so quiet. It had been like this for a few weeks now. But I'm too afraid to turn round and look at them. Sometimes want to turn round and look them right in the eyes and say go away. But I'm not brave enough. Too scared. My heart beats faster with every step. I try not to be afraid but the fear is eating me inside. I want to tell someone but who? I don't have a best friend to confide, my mum is always working and my dad? My mum changes the subject every time I ask about him. I always imagine what he looks like. Brown hair and brown eyes? Like me? I wondered how similar we were. Mum has no pictures. That's what she says anyway. Maybe she's locked them all away and one day we'll sit down and smile as we look at the pictures. Maybe she would cry and tell me where my father is. Then we'd go to him and we'd be a proper family. All happy. When I was little I used to draw pictures of a house with with my mum me and my dad in front of it. I then gave them to my mum who would stare at the picture for hours and sometimes cry. I hated seeing her like that. But I may not know much about my dad but I know he's alive. I don't blame him for leaving. There were some complications when I was born and everyone thought I would die. But I'm strong and brave and a week later I was able to go home. Not that I remember it. Just stories from relatives. All saying they thought I was going to die and that they were in floods of tears and thanked God that I survived. They say that I'm strong like my mother but yet my mum seems so fragile and weak. Pain in her eyes.
I snap back as I reach my house and I look behind me to see nothing. Always nothing. I quickly walk inside as a cold whoosh is air blows through me. Freezing my bones. As I step inside I'm blasted with hot air and hear the tv. It's nice when my mum's home early. I can smell food cooking in the kitchen but I'm not really that hungry. Slowly I creep into the sitting room and lie on the couch. I stare at the ceiling thinking about the person who's following me. Why would anyone want to stalk me? I'm ugly and really am not interesting. Is there something missing? What have I done to deserve this? Who can I tell? I hear my mum exit the kitchen and her feet scuff as she comes through to see me lying on the couch. She smiles.
"Don't you have homework to do?" She said.
I sit up and nod before hugging her. She smells of perfume. I feel safe even though I'm so scared. I should tell her but I can't. I fight the tears and exit the room just before they run down my face. I feel vulnerable and small.