3am.

Syed was snoring peacefully next to me, his soft snores making the bed rumble.

Lucky him.

My sleep had become dangerously sporadic, the little sleep I did get led to me waking with my heart pounding with beads of sweat clinging to my tired body. One bead of sweat was regret, another sadness for the lies I was telling to my husband- in all but name. The countless other drops of sweat were tinged with dread and horror for the nightmare that had become my life. I shivered in my bed, though I had lately taken to sleeping clothed lest Syed should see my weight loss, rather than just feel it when we embraced. It was alarming, even I could see that. The duvet was wrapped tightly around me. I was not really shivering from cold. The reason I was shivering was from pure and simple fear. People thought because I was tall and (formerly) muscular, I was incapable of being afraid but that was far from the truth. God, how I wish I was incapable of being scared. The ticking of the clock scared me. Hell, it made me clutch the duvet closer to myself, willing time to stop while I lazed in the cocoon-like feeling of safety. I wished it would forever stay 3:00am,that time would refuse to budge from that moment, that I wouldn't have to wait, breath held, for the inevitable buzzing of my mobile phone...

Every tick was another moment where I had to mentally look behind my shoulder, where I caught my breath in anticipation. Another second dominated by someone I had stupidly let into our life.

As I lay here, Syed murmured dream babbling I'd heard from no one but him.

As I lay here, cats fought, their miaows echoing across the street.

As I lay here, a tear I didn't even know I had inside of me came streaming out.

As I lay here, the moment I didn't want to happen came to fruition.

3:01 am.

Buzz.

Anxious, I glanced quickly at Syed who had stirred. Seeing him still encumbered by sleep, I gathered all of my nonexistent courage, picked up my shredded nerves and looked at my phone, with no small amount of fear.

I noted, with a dim, distant surprise, that the message was longer than usual.

In the lounge. In the lounge? How the hell had he got into our house? Heart beating like an African drum, I looked at the rest of the message.

The overall message read:

In the lounge. Just want to talk. This will stop now. Promise.

R x

That superfluous kiss sent shockwaves through my brain. It hadn't finished had it? I didn't think it would finish, not until he'd got what he wanted. But he'd said it would stop. The months of torment, the texts at 3:01 every morning without fail, the notes, the fear, the worry... it just had to stop.

Every night. Every night! I didn't think I'd ever stop hating myself for letting The Devil (as I called him) into our lives. Syed thought he was just a nuisance, annoying but ultimately harmless. I knew better...

The consequences of telling the police (again), telling my Syed, telling anyone would be so dire I couldn't even allow myself to conceive it.

Heart heavy, limbs weak from weeks of not eating properly (as the harassment had intensified), I dragged my bones out of bed. I was so thin, the muscles I had spent hours cultivating in the gym had dwindled to a sallow map of tendons and sinew. I'd had to quit my job as a personal trainer, who would hire someone who looked like me? I was surprised I didn't rattle. Syed had been alarmed by my weight loss, though I'd tried, futilely, to hide it under baggy clothes. I suppose that had been the giveaway. Christian Clarke without his trademark skin tight vests was a sure sign something was wrong. Syed had tried to get me to go to a doctor, I'd snapped at him, told him I was fine. I'd long ago vowed never to hide a thing from him but this... this was too terrible, too fantastical to divulge, and who knew what would happen if I breathed a word?

I gazed at Syed. My beautiful, loving, selfless Syed. The man who had once signed his personal happiness away to please parents who would never love him unconditionally. The person in the world who meant everything to me. The person who, sorry for the cliché, was my world.

I whispered 'I love you', the sound dying before it had even left my lips.

I slumped heavily to the lounge, thinking about how someone I barely knew could worm his way so insidiously into my life that I had almost forgotten a time when Syed and I had been happy. Genuinely, nauseatingly happy. He had caused a dark cloud to obscure the sunshine in our life, and though the cloud would, in time, dissipate, I had no doubts that shadows would be left behind to haunt us. He had seen to that. I would never stop hating him, or myself, for that.

I wish I could say lightening struck and the wind began to howl as I saw him sitting ever so casually on the settee, like it was his own home, like he wasn't an absolutely mental intruder, like he was invited, but no, nothing as dramatic as that ever appears to happen in real life. It would be great if God or Karma or whatever, did dish out such warnings. 'Stay away from this person.' All I had to go on was gut instinct and unfortunately, in this case, it had failed me.

He didn't even look up as I entered the room. Apparently, even I the supposed love of his life (I feel sick even thinking that!) was not enough of a distraction to stop him from his brooding.

'You took your time.' He said, playing with the tassel of a cushion. 'I was beginning to think you didn't want to see me.' He smirked, savouring the taste of irony in his mouth.

I clenched my fists and swallowed down the curses I wanted to hurtle at him, the words that would cause a cage to surround him so tightly he would never be able to escape.

'What the hell do you want Richard?' I spat, viciously. It wasn't in my nature to be so aggressive but then again, it also wasn't in my nature to spend most nights awake or to leave Syed in bed if I could be with him and help him defend the spectres that came to him when he slept.

I was so tired of this. I know it sounds cruel but I wished he'd just go harass someone else. Why the hell did it have to be us? We'd been through so much already, bloody Romeo and Juliet had nothing on us. I was tired of his fucking twisted presence and tired of the fear and the mind games and the anticipation that things would stop and the sinking feeling when I realised it hadn't. That it, even after 6 months, a restraining order, the Incident I can't even speak of and nothing but pain, still hadn't stopped.

'Because, in case you hadn't realised -which you probably have considering you refuse to leave me the fuck alone- I have someone I love- who by the way, is not you and I'm really, really fucking tired of your stupid fucking obsession! '

That was relatively cool in comparison to how much vitriol I wanted to throw at him. I bit my lip. The tale-tale salty, slightly rusty taste of blood trickled into my mouth.

Careful Christian. I admonished myself. Don't make him angry, remember what happened the last time ...

The thought crept almost unbidden into my head. I pushed it away, locking the thought up in the 'Later' file in my head and throwing away the key. Emotion would do no good here. Don't show him anything. Keep your cards close to your chest...

Richard got up, loping closer to me. He looked at me with an expression that would have been injured on a person who was sane. His eyes were chilling. Cold and dispassionate.

'Oh Christian...' He chuckled, a cold humourless sound. 'I know you. You don't want to tell me, because of him upstairs. But, I know the truth.' His hand inched towards me. I pushed him, violently. He fell on the floor, looking up at me with eyes that had, if possible, become even more icy and almost inhuman. He looked like a machine.

'What the fuck are you doing here?' I sprung at him, not knowing what I wanted to do, but only knowing I needed to silence him, I needed his presence gone.

He laughed again, spit flying in the air. 'To talk. Why else?'

'Talk? Talk? ' I laughed, actually finding him hilariously funny. He looked at me like he'd missed the punchline of a joke. Of course, he didn't realise he was the joke.

The air in the room changed and the laughter slowly died from my lips. 'You need help.' I said quietly. 'You need serious psychological help. You're going to leave right now. I will call the police, I don't think they'll be happy to know you violated your restraining order. You can't do anything else to us-'

'Oh... can't I?' His voice was ominously quiet. The room became quiet, even the routine night time noises ceased to be.

I darted for the phone that was on the coffee table. Quickly, he stuck out a leg. In my weakened state, I was no match for him and he knew it.

'You don't want to do that.' His voice was so quiet, I almost couldn't hear it. He put his hand in his pocket, eyes finding the floor very interesting.

'I'll think you'll find,' He yanked me upright sharply. I recoiled from his grip. 'I can hurt you and your precious Syed.'

Before I registered what was happening, a revolver was pointed straight at my heart.

I froze.

'Go on.' He drawled lazily. 'Call the police.' He moved the revolver away from me and made a sweeping motion at the phone. I hesitantly made a move towards the phone, all the while, wondering if he had really given up his obsession-

'I'll just kill Syed.'

Those four words made my blood turn to ice. I had never liked clichés, had teased Syed for frequently using them, but only now had I realised they were clichés for a reason. They were true.

I stared at him in abject horror.

Everything had started out so innocently. Jane's friends. A party. Just another night.

How had it come to this?