Bounty Hunter

Zinnia

With my bag clutched to my body, I scurried home, ever so often, looking past me to see if anyone had followed me. Tonight, was one of those nights I dreaded my work. Those nights were it was impossible to get an Uber home. Those were nights I’d switched my skinny outfits for a pair of jeans and a crop top, then stuff a cardigan in my backpack, an appropriate outfit for walking in the cold, early hours of the morning.

But tonight, I was dressed in shorts and a hoodie, and while the hoodie covered my chest, it did nothing to the cold slapping against my bare thighs. Coupled with the fact that I had a stalker on my tail.

Looking past me for the nth time, I fastened my steps. I should have taken up Alex’s offer to drop me home. Same as I would have taken up her offer for a sleepover. But my stupid ass, for whatever reason, decided it was best to keep up with my routine.

Thankfully, I met up with a group of teenagers and I somewhat relaxed. I doubt my stalker will be courageous enough to walk up to me with people around. And that only made me dread going home.

Ever since I called the cops and his so-called gifts magically vanished from my room, I hadn’t heard from him. No messages, no nothing.

It hasn’t been that long, just a day and a few hours. I should be happy that my life was finally going back to its usual boring routine. But a part of me knew that was far from it. His silence probably meant he was somewhere in the shadows, lurking around and waiting for the right moment to show up. And I dreaded every second of the wait.

Back in the club, Alex had pointed to the man who always sat in the corner of the room. Something in me clicked and I wondered if he was my stalker.

It would make absolute sense. He gave me his credit card to use to my advantage. Probably how he got my address. He insisted I serve him and while I tended to other clients, I could feel his every gaze on me.

I am speculating, but it didn’t help that I might have come face-to-face with my stalker.

Thank the heavens, I made it to my block and I hurriedly mounted the stairs to my apartment. I only let out a sigh of relief when I was certain the doors were appropriately locked.

I ruffled my hands through my hair and begin to strip in my living room, and only headed for my bedroom when I was in my undies. Then, I walked into my bathroom. I turned on the faucet and stood under the running water.

I heard a loud thud coming from my window and my heart began beating fast. I quickly turned off the shower, grabbed a towel and walked out of the bathroom.

I frowned when my room was quiet, with only but the window open and night air caressing the curtains. A bouquet rested on the table close to the window, and as I walked toward it, I noticed a little gold-plated card next to it.

I picked up the flower first, and with my free hand, I picked up the card and read its contents.

‘You have a sexy body, little flower, I can’t wait to feel its smoothness’

Anger spiralling through my body, and cursing out atrocities, I rushed to the living room and dumped the flower in the trash, then slammed the card on the table.

This time, when I walked into my room, there was a silhouette standing ever so gracefully by the opened window. Dressed in black, both hands were tucked in the front pocket as he faced the window.

It’s him. My stalker.

With shaky hands, I tiptoed to my dresser and picked up the scissors resting there, before tiptoeing towards him. He was so courageous to send me lingerie, and animalistic gifts. I wondered if he would stay courageous when my scissors puncture his neck.

When I stood at a close enough distance, I raised my hand, ready to stab the scissors into the crook of his neck. It all happened so fast. One minute, my hand was in the air, and the next minute, my back slapped against the wall, one hand on my neck and the other hand pinned my hand holding the scissors against the wall. The towel around my body had come loose and dropped to the ground.

“Oh, you naughty, naughty little flower. Trying to kill me?”

The face cap and the face mask he wore made it difficult to see his face clearly, but it did little to hide the scar across his eye.

It’s the man from the club. He was my stalker. I was yet to take in his full facial features, but I will recognise that empty violet stare and sultry voice anywhere in the world

“It’s you,” I barely breathe. The smell of him and the alcohol on his breath intoxicated my senses.

“You don’t seem surprised,” he murmured inches away from my lips. Unconsciously, I licked my lips and he smirked.

“You called the cops on me, little flower. I should punish you for that” he added. I swallowed a gulp.

I wasn’t sure if it was as a result of the air, or his voice and him invading my space, but my nipples hardened and desire swamped in the pit of my stomach.

“I should bend you over my lap and change the colour of your butt cheeks to pink with my hands,” he murmured, his hold on my neck tightened. I struggled to breathe, and slowly, my vision begin to darken as I start seeing stars.

My body, the fucking traitor that she is, loved the idea of him bending me over his knees. I should be cursing at him and kicking him with my kneecap, but I didn’t. Instead, I found pleasure in his hold, even as it threatened to suffocate me.

By now, I was a mess down there, and I desperately and mentally prayed that he wouldn’t find evidence of my body’s betrayal to his touch.

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