fu·ri·ous /ˈfyʊəriəs/

–adjective

1. full of fury, violent passion, or rage; extremely angry; enraged: He was furious about the accident.

2. intensely violent, as wind or storms.

3. of unrestrained energy, speed, etc.: furious activity.

Origin:

1300–50; Middle English Latin furiōsus. See fury, -ous

—Related forms

fu·ri·ous·ly, adverb

fu·ri·ous·ness, noun

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"Uh, fuck..." I say, reading over the familiar chicken scrawl addressed to me. Immediately my heart starts racing, and I want to yell but whatever comes out is no louder then a whisper.

My mind goes completely blank as I read and re-read the letter in front of me. It's a definition, more then likely found in a dictionary or online. All the phrases, definitions and pictures he's sent me over the past couple of months come rushing back.

Scanning the street quickly but thoroughly, I notice that nothing seems out of the ordinary. Everything is how it would be any other day, I come home from school, checking the mail just in case my mother forget on her way home from work. I force my feet to move, as I run up the driveway, over the grass, up the steps, throwing the door open with as much force as I can muster.

"Bella," my mother gasps, standing in the hallway, her sleeves rolled up and a dishtowel is pinched between her fingers. She takes in my appearance, in which I can tell I look completely frightened. "What is..." She starts to ask, but stops when she noticed the envelope clenched between my fist. "Oh, no..."

"He's back." I breathe, my chest heaving uncontrolably.

"Isn't there anything you can do?" My mother begs the sheriff. The letter I had received only a couple hours ago was crumbled in between her hands. She holds it out for him to look at, but he declines; he's already read over it, a dozen times.

"I'm sorry Mrs. Dwyer. We've already looked into it. We've had all of our officers on the case, and we can't find anything. He doesn't seem to leave any clues, or any DNA on the letters your daughter is receiving. I'm sorry but we don't have anything left. Unfortunately we can't do anything unless the perpetrator actually... strikes."

"So, that's it? You're just going to let my baby get kidnapped? Is that what you're telling me?"

"Mom..." I say, grabbing her elbow, in which she wraps her arm around me.

The sheriff grimaces, looking down at the papers lying on his desk; they are of every single letter or picture I have received from this person. "We can have some officers patrolling the neighbourhood. And if you still don't feel comfortable about your daughters safety, I'm sure we can get someone to escort Bella to school. But I'm afraid that's all we can do Mrs. Dwyer. I'm very sorry."

"Thanks for nothing," my mother says furiously. She pulls me tighter to her body, and drags me towards the door. "Come on baby, let's go."

"Mom," I say calmly once we are in the car. I can tell she is silently freaking out, as she cannot for the life of her get the key into the ignition. "Mom," I say again, putting my hand on her shaking one.

"I need you to go stay with your father until this blows over,"

"What? Why?" I ask, a little caught off guard. She turns to me then with her tired, lifeless eyes. I can tell that she feels defeated, it didn't take much to read my mother–always an open book; she wore her emotions on her face. I know that she's worried; I can see it in her eyes and in her smile.

My recently re-married mother has taking every precaution is protecting me and keeping me safe when she should be spending that time with her new husband. These last couple of months have been hard on me but have been a lot harder on her. I may have to always look over my shoulder, but she would never forgive herself is something happened to me. I was scared, but she was terrified.

"I can't do this anymore, Bella. I don't feel safe with you here. This time, this letter is angry and I can't protect you from him if he decides to finally make a move. I don't even know what he looks like for crying out loud." My mother sighs heavily, caressing my cheek and wiping the tears that I hadn't even known were falling. "I... I just feel like you would be a lot safer with your father."

I suck back a breath and fall heavily into my seat. I look at my terrified mother, and then my gaze shifts to the pedestrians walking the street; anyone of these mysterious people could be my stalker, and I wouldn't even know. My mother squeezes my hand, reassuring me everything will be alright and after a long sigh, I slowly nod my head. "Okay, I'll go."

A/N: Another new story, I know.

I feel as though I should mention a couple things. I'm not exactly sure if rape will be mentioned or will happen in my story (so bear with me). If it is mentioned, it will not be in great detail. I'm just letting you know because I'm aware that it could trigger something. But foul language is a must in this story, along with drugs (not hardcore drugs) and intercourse will also be mentioned in later chapters.

Also, no beta this time around so don't mind the small errors and grammar mistakes.

The letter is the definition at the very top. Bella's stalker only sends her definitions of how he is feeling about her that particular day, he never writes her a real letter.

I should also mention, I watch a lot of Criminal Minds.