Chapter Twelve

Everything felt back to normal when Ed got home. Not a good kind of normal, though, but his normal. His new normal consisted of spending the majority of his day scared someone was out to get him, and the rest of the time he was at work. After arriving in Central, he called HQ to let someone know he'd be returning to work the following morning. After that, he went home.

The first thing he noticed was that there was something sitting in front of his door. Upon further investigation, he learned that whatever it was was covered up in a small, purple, velvet sheet. He almost didn't want to know what it was. A pile of more obsessive letters? A severed arm? It could be anything.

Nervously, slowly, he leaned forward. Hands shaking, he removed the sheet as quickly as he possibly could and backed up. It was a bouquet of flowers. The blonde placed a hand on his pounding heart and sighed in relief. He'd gotten worked up over nothing. No doubt it was from his stalker, but it wasn't as bad as he thought it was.

He kneeled over and picked up the flowers, seeing that they were wilted, and that they lacked color. They were dead. Might have been dead for longer than a week. As he stood, a small, white tape fell out. Attached to the tape was a folded sheet of white paper, like always. He felt that nostalgic terror and he picked up the tape, bringing it and the dead flowers inside.

Once inside, he went into the kitchen and threw the useless flowers in the garbage, too sickened to even glance at them. He left the room quickly and made it back to the living room, sitting on the couch. He decided that he should open the letter. He'd end up doing it sooner or later anyway. After reading it, he realized that it should have gone with the flowers.

Roses are read
Violets are blue
These roses are dead
Soon you will be, too

He shuddered and placed the note under a stack of papers on the end table. That was way too creepy. He'd just threatened his life, in the form of a morbid, childish poem no less. This was really getting twisted. No more neat cursive, no more speak of love. Just suffering and death. He was taking things to a whole new level, and he didn't handle his losses well.

Ed wondered if he really even wanted to see what was on the tape.

"It would be best if I looked at it," he consoled himself, hands shaking as he reached for it, "This won't just go away if I ignore it…"

Doing his best to listen to himself, he picked it up, and, crossing the room, began to play the tape. It was already rewound. Once it started, all he could see was darkness, and he could hear the sounds of a man panting. Suddenly, a light in the distance turned on, illuminating the front of a house. Ed's house.

The door opened, and he could see himself walking out onto the porch, followed by Roy. It was from the night the doorbell rang and nobody was there. It was him. He'd done it just to show him that he could watch him.

"Oh, god." The blonde gasped, watching as he turned and left, closing the door behind himself. He expected the tape to end as he watched himself shut the door, but it wasn't even halfway over. He didn't care. He didn't want to see what else was on it. Footage of himself and Winry in Resembool?

He swiftly reached forward and shut off the TV, sitting on the living room floor in complete silence. The only sound in the room was his now ragged, uneven breathing. He felt like he was being watched. Part of himself knew there was a way he could confirm it, but he didn't know how.

"What do you want from me!?" he screamed, "I know you can hear me! I know you can see me! Just tell me what you want and I'll do it!"

He didn't get a response. There was only silence. He felt tears on his face, could see them fall and land on his hands. He trembled, taking in a deep breath. He couldn't go on like this, living like an animal being hunted. "Just make it stop," he begged, "I just want it to stop…"