XV

"What?" Woody asked sharply. His change in expression surprised her. He stood and she thought he was going to yell and ask her the reason for her secret. Instead, after a moment, he regained composure and sat with his head in his hands contemplating her words.

Emma rested her body on her knees, "I am so sorry, Woody."

He stood and glared outside his apartment window, speechless. The reflection of the rain cast an eerie blue light upon his hardened face.

Immediately she began her explanation. "He follows me, Woody. I first saw him eyeing me in the local grocery store back home. I was, understandably a little disgusted but I brushed it off. That was until I started seeing him all of the time. Everywhere I went, the bar, parties, I even saw him at work a few times; he seemed to have some sort of excuse for being there. He blamed every situation on coincidence. He told me that his name was Henry Mercer. I believed him, of course, until I was speaking with my landlord about the man who had moved in next door to me."

She was becoming passionate in her story telling, finally relieved to be getting all of this information off her chest. Her momentum increased and she began talking at an incomprehensible speeds.

"My landlord said that his name was Greg Indulta. I was complaining about him because I constantly heard strange noises, the sound of an electric drill putting holes in the walls, always super late at night. He said he would look into it, but before he got back to me, I found out what was happening. The drill was to put holes through his walls, into my own. Woody, I was living next door to a peeping tom…"

She saw Woody's lips curl maliciously; the vein in his temple throbbed slightly and his eyes squinting into the dark night.

Her voice grew weak, as if calling upon her memories caused her fatigue, "I confronted him. I found two holes in my bedroom wall and one in my bathroom and I pounded on his door until the bastard opened it. I was so surprised to see Henry Mercer there I didn't know what to say. I just—I just... I ran. I ran back into my apartment and started packing, not even caring if he was spying on me. I called my best friend and I left. I haven't been back to my apartment since that time, three weeks ago. I started keeping a baseball bat next to wherever I slept."

She paused. Letting her words sink into his mind. Trying to make him understand was the hardest part.

"It was so hard living like that. I no longer had a fixed address. I jumped from one friend or family member to the next. I contemplated quitting my job; then I got this call at work. They asked me to come to Boston. It was an opportunity I couldn't pass up. To start a new life, to get away from this stalker," she sighed, unsure of Woody's thoughts. He had been silent for her entire recollection. "Woody, I didn't tell you for that very reason, I want a new life. As I sped away in the cab, I felt invincible; he would never find me again, there was no way he could. Nobody knew where I was staying. Nobody knew where I had applied."

"What made you think that he couldn't find you?" Woody asked coldly.

Tears came to her eyes, "I had to believe it Woody. Here, I had no proof of what he'd done to me. It wasn't as if he'd hurt me before. I have to move on with my life. Woody you have to understand," she felt pitiful pleading with him.

His stern expression frightened Emma.

"A-are you angry with me?" Helpless tears brimmed in her eyes as she waited for his response.

Woody thought for a moment, thinking that he should be supremely angry with her. He could make her find her own place to stay and would be completely within his rights. Instead, he replied, "I am a little angry with you, because you should have dealt with this immediately after finding out who he was—"

"I was so afraid though…"

"But," his voice was soft and gentle, so uncharacteristic of him, "I'm even angrier with the bastard who's done this to you." Successfully, he had put himself in her shoes and realized her situation.

"We've had a long day, we should get some sleep," he said, mustering the fakest smile. Emma knew something bad was up. She agreed, stood, contemplated doing something to show how thankful she was but when nothing came to mind, she walked three steps and went into the bedroom. After a short silence, she heard him talking on the phone.

After two hours, and the return of power, there was silence in the apartment but for the rain pounding against the glass. The unfamiliar scratches and creaks bothered Emma into wakefulness. In her mind, she heard power drills and his voice whispering in her ears. She imagined wind blowing through trees but it was the last straw when a shadow flickered across the window, frightening her. Emma found that it was only a crow, finding shelter under the window's overhang.

Nonetheless, she emerged from under the covers, and got out of bed. She went to the door, it squealed as she opened it a crack. There was a click and she gasped as she saw the barrel of Woody's gun pointing at her face.

He lowered it saying, "Emma?"

"Woody," she whispered, "will you be my baseball bat?"