Preface:
If I'd listened, I wouldn't be here right now. If I'd listened, I'd be safe. If I'd listened, I might have seen tomorrow.
But I didn't listen.
A tear slipped from my eye as he, who I had put all my trust in, looked at me again. Maybe a better word would be appraised.
His eyes raked up and down my body, taking in my waist length mahogany hair and frightened chocolate eyes; my pale white skin and my average size form.
He grinned and stalked towards me, his arm raised as if to touch me. I stepped back as far as I could into the dark alley.
He frowned as I tried to escape him. "Don't run away, Bella," he threatened "or I'll hurt you."
I became immobile with fear of what horror story had become of our friendship.
He came closer and smirked when I no longer tried to get away from him. He continued to advance forward, until he was directly in front of me: close enough to touch.
His outstretched arm wrapped itself around my waist, and his mouth moulded itself around my lips. I tried to fight him off at first, but he was too strong, I quickly gave in.
He pressed harder into the kiss, obviously pleased that I was no longer fighting. I sensed he wanted me to join in with the kiss, but it was his kiss: and it would always be his kiss. I wouldn't join it.
His arm tightened on my waist, so that it hurt, and his other one soon joined it. I was unsure what this meant, but knew it couldn't be good: nothing could be good with him.
I wished this would be all a bad dream that would haunt me once and not again.
I wished this would be over soon.
I wished I had an answer for my question:
Why did he have to become my stalker?