I have been secretly following the woman named Alex—strange name for a female, in my opinion—for the past two weeks, watching what she does, where she goes, and how she does things, all in an attempt to learn more about the world and to eventually try to fit in society which I highly doubt will ever happen. An innate sense of stealth along with the extremely light density of my frame gives rise to a hardwired silent tread and therefore stealth. The woman does not even realize the fact I am following her. Why am I doing this? This very question keeps running through my mind. I could easily become caught and who knows what would happen to me? The only answer I have to that, I believe, is my ineffable sense of curiosity. Damn my curiosity to hell! It is definitely going to get me killed or at least in trouble someday, if not soon or now. I still know little of this world, and all my senses demand to know its secrets. I have already learned where Mademoiselle Alex lives, having followed her to her home—an apartment, like many people have—a few days ago. This has gone rather smoothly—until now…
Unpredictably, she turns around and manages to "bang" into me. Damn it all for following her so close! Not only could this happen, but it could have become perfectly obvious to anyone present or casually observing that I was stalking her! Her eyes go wide in shock.
"You!" She exclaims while her eyes narrow once again, probably in anger this time. How could she remember me? I am not wearing the same thing anymore or wearing quite so visible a mask. "What are you doing here, Mr. Kingly?"
"Umm… Nothing… Nothing of any importance. Just window-shopping…" Good Lord, Erik, I think to myself. Why the hell did I just say that? There is no store, much less a store window! I cringe inside at myself-debasing insults I pour upon myself.
"Hmm…" She mutters. "You are obviously confused about something or another. Or else you're caught up in something way above your head."
Once again she reaches out and grabs my arm as I turn to leave. Out of the corner of my eye I see that strange, dark spirit from the day I escaped. What is it? Is it am omen of ill will? Am I to die now, even after this sweet taste of freedom in my short life so far?
"Oh no, Mr. Kingly, you are not getting away this time. Frankly, and to be honest, I am not a defenseless little woman, if that's what you're thinking. I'm with both the local police and the FBI, I am a freelance detective, sir, and I have noticed you following me on several occasions, Jack Kingly. Or is that even your real name? Perhaps you'd come with me to my office, don't you think? Have a cup of coffee or two, a little food—it'll be my treat, and rest your feet perhaps?"
My muscles for flight tense and twitch, anxious and eager for flight once again. I don't know if she can feel it in my bone-thin arms or not, but my whole body tenses and my heart starts to race, well, it's more like pounding now. I realize I have no choice but to listen to this misleading woman and, though I am extremely reluctant, to obey her every whim. After all, I am only sixteen years of age, although I am taller than most adults who are older than me.