Stories of a Life Not So Well Lived

Fear, a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. My palms become damp as I quicken my pace, my feet move faster and faster until I feel like I am running on air. My lungs are burning as my breath escapes me. The deafening sound of my heartbeat rings through my ears, firing off like gunshots in an empty room. Shop after shop, closed. My mind races as I continue the chase in which in I am obviously the prey. Closed, closed, closed, the signs mock me in my feeble attempt to seek asylum. I can hear him.

Large, lumbering, taller than me by at least three feet, hands that could palm my head as one would a large grapefruit. His footsteps break the sound of my thunderous heart. “No, no, no, no, I need to hide now!” My heart stops, I accept my impending doom. I freeze behind a stone railing of a crumbling building for cover, one which I don’t quite recognize. The cold stone scrapes the skin on my back that my tank top does not cover. Futile in my attempt to calm myself, I can still hear his footsteps echoing. Every impact on the pavement feels like someone is stomping on my chest. Tighter and tighter and tighter the pressure builds as I hold back my cries.

He’s approaching fast. I close my eyes and cover my mouth with my small, shaking hand. I can almost feel my soul leave my body. Not a person in sight. It limits my options, my chance, zero, my fate, sealed. His footsteps now like cannons signaling my demise. Then, as the wind blows through my bones, I open my eyes to see that along with the breeze came the faint but glorious chimes of an opened shop door. Hope! I make a split decision and force myself onto my trembling legs and follow that wonderful sound. I look back only to see he was smiling. Agape with an unsettling abyss of teeth and flesh. A split second was all that was needed to shake me to my core.

A chilling and animalistic grin burst forth. “This is what he wanted, a chase.” His smile of pleasure and self contentment sickened me as I turned around to continue to run towards my salvation. It was then that I saw it “Open!” As if it was a gift from the heavens! Even in broad daylight that sign looked like a beacon made just for me. I finally touch my fingertips to the icy glass of the shop’s front door. Those clattering bells ring joyously as I take my first steps into the cold Ice cream shop. I’ve known this place all my life, but being here this early in the day makes it feel foreign. Everything has a different hue than usual, bright with the morning sun.

It feels like safety, but in my short eleven years of life I have learned that safety is almost never assured. I turn to see him, still in pursuit. I shout to the man behind the counter who looks about seventeen years old, “I don’t know him, I need help!” my shouts feel desperate and unheard. The worker looks slightly panicked but unsure of what’s going on. With no time to explain, I scan the front room of the shop and quickly duck into the women’s restroom. I lock the heavy door behind me, and with the lights still off as I shuffle into a defensive position with my back to the wall opposite the door. I try my best to secure my assortment of keys between my fingers as I prepare for whatever may come next. I then take a long, slow breath to try to steady my shaking hands.

As I stand in the cold, dark bathroom my mind races, “what did I do to deserve this.” I thought, “why does he want me? Is it what I’m wearing? Was it something I said? Oh, why did I walk away from my family!” I contemplated how a celebration with my friends and family turned into me hiding in an ice cream parlor bathroom. I just wanted to go off and see the other performance for a moment! The cold stings the skin exposed by my shorts and tank top, it snaps me back to reality. I hear the shop door chimes once again. Could it be him? I wait, silently, listening carefully, then I hear the familiar sound of his boots against the ground. Slowly he makes his way around the shop, scanning just as I had.

A deep menacing voice bellows through the shop. “Have you seen my daughter? I saw her come in here. I know what she was wearing!” The poor shop worker paused before telling the man that no one else was in the shop and that he was alone. The man insisted that he saw his “daughter” had come into the shop, shouting at the worker. Thankfully, the employee responded again that no one was in the shop aside from him and the man. The man huffed and mumbled something I could not hear. He then turned and walked out the door. A moment or so later, the employee knocks on the bathroom door and tells me it's okay to come out. I slowly make my way to the doorknob and cautiously opened the door. Keys still between my fingers, I look out from my dark cave of safety and see only the smock of that miraculous worker.

Like I said before, safety is never guaranteed so as I leave the bathroom I keep my keys sturdy in my fist. I inch out to meet my savior in khakis and I am greeted by a tall boy, maybe on the cusp of eighteen, wearing khakis, a white button-down shirt and the signature smock of my favorite ice cream shop. With a kind smile, he offered to close the shop and escort me back to my parents. Shyly I accepted his offer, but still wary, I clutch my keys again. We start on our way back to the area full of performers and music and festival tents. As we pass my previous place of hiding my eyes instinctively scan the area for Him. I turn around to check behind us one more time as we hear the chorus of chattering spectators and bands playing music.

I see that the boy has taken notice of my extra caution and feel disgusted at the pity in his eyes. He doesn’t know, he could never know that this isn’t the first time I have been chased or harassed or followed. And he could never know that it definitely will not be the last. As we pass the funnel cake stand and turn towards the fried Oreo vendor, I see my family round the corner. I turn to the boy and thank him, point to my family and start over to them. They smile and wave me over. I was only gone for a few moments. To them I had just taken the long way round to look at other booths. But for me this was my end of the movie, walking off into the sunset cliché. I had survived and no one even knew I had gone. We spent a few more hours walking around, petting animals and watching shows.

At around 5pm we all are tired and head home. All in all we had a good day, we were safe and well and heading back to the car game prizes in hand when I get a pit in my stomach. Something wasn’t right, I begin to feel fatigued. I stopped walking and my family went a few steps ahead before stopping and coming back to ask me if I felt sick or if I had eaten too much funnel cake. Truthfully I didn’t know why I felt this way, until I looked up, and there he was. Standing by the car parked next to ours is a tall figure, one that I knew all too well. “Was he waiting for me? Is he really going to try something in front of everyone?” I clambered to put up an air of normalcy and assure my concerned mother that I was fine and had just gotten dizzy. I finally make my way around to the far side of the car, watching him the entire time.

Other than that smile, he seemed to be a normal man. Just over six feet tall, he wore a white T-shirt and blue jeans customized with a baseball cap and large construction boots. My right foot had barely lifted to step up into our ca. He saw me. That same grin, the smile that made him look almost inhuman, and when he saw the fear in my eyes, that smile grew even larger. In that moment I realized something, my pulse quickened, my ears started ringing, my palms damp once again. Visibly flustered, I lower myself into our car and close the door, I hear him let out a satisfied and sinister laugh. As I sit in the back seat, sullen and exhausted, I sink into thought. The sun turning everything orange; I realized what he wanted. I realized that he wanted nothing more than to scare me. My fear, my need for survival, trauma inflicted on me and for what? It was all so that this man could get his kicks.

Rage was the only thing I could feel. How revolting to be reminded at such a young age that my life, to a large amount of people is worth less than a man’s desire to seek a thrill. To them following us is a funny game they play, making us squirm and panic is nothing more to them than entertainment, some even find it arousing. This experience is not new or uncommon. Throughout my life, I would be made aware of this horrid fact many more times. However, this day, the day that smelled of funnel cake and other fried foods. This day filled with laughter and music would forever be etched in my mind as one of my most vivid and terrifying memories of my life. Safe, I retreat into the seat of the car, sinking down into the comfort of the polyester seat covers. My body finally begins to relax, it's over for now but my chest still feels heavy and hot, like someone is sitting on it with their full weight. His smile still haunted me as we pulled into our driveway, I barely even remember the ride home as I just kept replaying the horror in my head of being hunted like prey. The rest of my day seems a daze until I rest my head on my pillow to sleep and the nightmare begins again.

-The story of a man stalking and intimidating me at the county fair when I was 11 years old.