The following day Ellen had the sensation of being watched on her way to the bus stop after work but looking around she could see no one suspicious, much less the man from the pub who’s face she was beginning to have trouble remembering clearly.
At home she found herself constantly peeking through the blinds to see if she was being watched. After her third glass of wine that evening she managed to convince herself she was being foolish, if not downright paranoid.
She listened to some music for a while and finally it was time to get ready for bed. She was drowsy from the wine and once again forgot to draw the blinds as she got in to bed. She debated simply leaving them open, but she knew she’d wake up later and not be able to get back to sleep if she did. Cursing softly she got back up and went over to draw them.
She glanced out as she did and froze, the cord still in her hand, the blinds drawn. Was it her imagination or was there a figure out there as there had been last Friday night? She hesitated but finally she had to know. She slowly opened the blinds again and to her horror saw a dark clad figure standing exactly where she had seen him before. This time she was sure it was a man, but she couldn’t make out his features. He stood motionless in the middle of the street just out the halo of a streetlight and she was certain he was looking directly at her bedroom window.
She considered calling the police but she knew he’d be gone long before they got there and she’d simply look foolish. She looked away for a moment then held her breath and looked through the blinds again. He was gone.
She drew the blinds and went to bed, but sleep was a long time coming. She felt helpless and utterly alone. What could she do? She couldn’t prove any of this was happening. Unless of course one of the neighbours had seen him also, but how would she know?
She imagined herself ringing doorbells and asking each person who answered if they had seen a mysterious figure standing in the middle of the road late at night. No, that would certainly never do.
She continued to fret but eventually drowsiness won out and sleep overtook her. The following day on the ride in to work though she was deep in thought and almost missed her stop. She threw herself into her work but on her break she called Anne.
“Anne, I saw him again last night. The guy who was standing in the street.”
“Now you’re sure it’s a guy? I thought you couldn’t tell?”
“It’s a guy. I’m sure of it. And I think I saw him on the way to the bus yesterday. I was passing the construction site and I glanced across the street and I think I saw the guy from the pub. I’m scared Anne. I don’t know what to do.”
“Aw, honey, are you sure you’re not letting your imagination run away with you? I don’t mean to downplay your feelings, but you really don’t have anything to go on, you know?”
“I know. Look, I just needed to talk to someone. You’re right, there’s nothing I can do. No one has approached me. I can’t even be certain any of it is real. Maybe it’s just that creepy guy in the pub.”
“I think that’s it. Just let it go. If you see the figure in the street again tonight call me right away, okay?”
“Okay, I will. Thanks Anne.”
Ellen hung up but she didn’t feel any better. There had to be some way to figure out what was going on.
Tomorrow, Part 5