WARNING! CONTAINS VIOLENCE AND SWEARING AND MAYBE BLOOD AND STICKY STUFF.
I'M WARNING YOU, THIS FANFIC WILL MAKE YOU PARANOID.
When I was sixteen years old, I got my first cell phone. It was a normal flip phone, one that blinked red when I had a new text message. The first time I got one of the messages, I didn't think much of it.
???: Ti amo.
Me: I think you have the wrong number...Sorry.
???: No, ti amo.
Me: Really? Well...Who are you?
???: Your true love.
I showed the message to my friend, Elizaveta. She just laughed and shrugged her shoulders. I didn't reply to the mysterious man's text and promptly forgot all about it. I figured the poor guy had probably been trying to date some girl and she gave him a wrong number to get rid of him.
My next birthday I was seventeen years old, I got a new blackberry phone, which still had the red blinking light for new messages. I also got my first boyfriend. His name is Alfred.
One day, in the middle of class, I noticed the red light blinking inside my purse. Making sure the teacher wasn't looking, I pulled out my blackberry and held it under my desk and read the message.
It was the mysterious man... "Where have you been?"
I replied "Who is this?"
He said "I missed you, bella. You miss me too?"
I replied again "Sorry, wrong number."
Then he also said "Don't play with me, bella ragazza!"
"Seriously, you have the wrong number. I have a boyfriend. Bye." I confessed to the mysterious man.
There was no response. Two days later, I received another message from the mysterious man.
"___?" He knew my name. I don't know how, but he knew my name. I showed the message to my boyfriend. Alfred took the phone out of my hand and replied with an angry message.
Alfred: Listen, dude. This is my girlfriend's phone. She doesn't know you and she doesn't want to know you. You have the wrong number. If you don't lay off, we'll go to the cops.
Stop texting her.
At the time, it seemed to do the trick. The mystery man never replied and I thought that was the end of it...
When I was eighteen years old, I got a new iPhone that went "Bing" whenever I received a new message. I also broke up with my boyfriend. The very next day after Alfred and I split up, the messages started again.
???: I've missed you.
I stared at my phone in disbelief. It couldn't be the same person...Could it? Maybe it was Alfred, trying to freak me out.
Me: Who is this?
???: You know who it is. I'm glad you got rid of him.
???: That scumbag you called a boyfriend. Seeing you with him always made me mad.
Me: Listen, you son of a bitch! Stop texting me! I don't know who you are or if this is some kind of joke, fucking stop it!
???: No! You listen, bitch! You're mine. If I see you with another guy, you'll regret it. By the way, do you leave your curtains open at night so I can watch you?
I was sitting on my bed as I read the text message. Horrified...I immediately turned to look out on my window. It was on the ground floor. Anyone standing in the backyard I could see straight into my bedroom. I jumped up and pulled the curtains shut. Then, I called my friend and told her what happened. She came right over and convinced me to go to the police.
When we arrived at the police station, the officers were very helpful. I showed them my phone and they manageto track the man's number. They ended up finding a battered old blackberry phone in an abandoned building about two blockes from my house. There was gooey stuff al over it, as well as on the floor. The phone registered to a man who had gone missing a few months before. He had still not be found.
I changed my phone number and, for a month or so, everything was fine.
One night, I went to a party at a friend's house. A lot of guests were playing drinking games and quite a few had passed out on the couch or were throwing up in the bathroom. At the end of the night, I realized my purse was missing. I went around the house searching for it everywhere, but I couldn't find it.
I saw my friend coming out of the bathrom and begged her to help me find my purse. WWe eventually went outside and found my purse lying on the front lawn. All of the contents were scattered around on the grass. We started gathering everything up. Luckily, all of my money and credit cards were still there. The only thing that was missing was my lip balm, which I honestly couldn't care less about. I figured one of the drunk girls had probably been rummaged through my purse to borrow some lip balm and had accidentally spilled everything out.
My friend and I decided to call a taxi, but when I took out my phone, I realized that someone had been using it to send a bunch of text messages. The last text was just bunch of gibberish. I had an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach as I scrolled through the messages. I was right. Some drunk girl had been playing around with my phone. She had answered messages posing as me. A whole conversation had taken place.
There were three more text messages like this, with letters and symbols, as if someone had mashed the keyboard with their finger. As I finished reading, the phone vibrated in my hand:
???: ____. Hope you found your phone and purse okay. I have the bitch that tried to steal them. Don't worry, she wont bother you again. Your lip balm tastes so good. I can't wait to taste it off your lips.
I burst into tears and immediately called 911, trying to explain the gravity of the situation. A patrol car arrived about ten minutes later and the police officers found me sitting on the front lawn, sobbing. My friend was trying to comfort me and a bunch of party-goers gathered around me, trying to figure out what was happening.
There was a man and a woman officer. The man was older and bald but the woman looked only a few years old than me and looked worried. I tried to tell them what happened but I ended up handing them the while while choking out things like "Texting me since I was sixteen." and "Already went to cops." and "Help her." As soon as the police figured out what was happened, they ran back to the patrol car and called it in.
Hours later, using GPS, they managed to locate the other phone. It was in a lake. They pulled the lifeless body of the drunk girl out of icy water. The phone had been stuffed half-way down her throat. When the police idenitied her, it turned out I had only met her once and we only had one friend in common.
Even though I didn't know her, I went to her funeral and listened to all the kind things her friends and family said about her. So many people loved her. I felt terrible abput what happened. The guilt was unbearables and even though every told me it wasn't my fault, I still blamed myself.
The stalker had made me feel completely vulnerable. I was afraid that he would keep on finding me. It seemeed like the nightmare would never end. I changed my number again and then I moved house. A good friend of mine, a guy called Matt, had a two-bedroom apartment and was looking for a roommate. I thought that would be the safest option. For a while, it appeared that my ife would go back to normal. However, a few weeks ago, the messages started again.
In the early hours of the morning, my phone buzzed. I reached for it and read the text with tried, haunted eyes.
???: Found you!
I stared at the screen, unable to move for a few minutes.
???: Aren't you going to say hello?
Bitter tears started rolling down my cheeks.
???: You know I hate to see you cry.
I froze. For a few moments, I didn't breathe. I didn't even blink. Slowly, I turned my head and stared in horror at my bedroom window.
Outside, on the fire escape, stood a man. He was dressed in a tanned uniform from head to toe and silhouetted againest the street light belind him. All I could see clearly was the palm of hand, pressed againest the window. His hot breath was fogging up the glass.
I didn't wait to see what would happen. Jumping out of my bed, I ran down the hallway and burst into Matthews's room, screaming at him to call the police. He jolted out of his slumer.
"___, w-what's wrong?" He asked.
"The man I told you about!" I shouted in terror. "The stalker! He's here! "Outside my window! Call the police!"
He was too stunned to move. I grabbed his phone and called the police myself. As I explained what happened, my roommate's eyes gew wide. He reached into his closet, grabbed a hockey stick and a polar bear, and set off down the hallway. I tried to call him back, but he didn't listen.
His footsteps came to stop and I heard angry voiced and the sounds a struggle. Then, there was a sickening THOCK! It sounded like wood colliding with something hard and an animal roaring. A muffled voice shouted my name. I wasn't sure who it was. I heard someone moaning in pain, followed by a loud thud. Then the entire apartment was eerily silent.
"Matt?" I yelled. There was no answer. I crept out of his room and as quietly as I could, I made my way towards the kitchen. Grabbing a butcher knife from the kitchen drawer, I pressed myself against the wall and tried to not make a sound.
In the doorway, I saw a large shadow appear. It was the silhouette of a man. He looked a little larger than Matt.
"What do you want?" I screamed. "I already called the police! They're on their way!"
The man just chuckled. A quiet, menacing chuckle. Then he started walking towards me and I could hear him muttering my name under his breath over and over again.
"___, ___, ___, ___, ___..."
I didn't move. There was nowhere left for me to run. He came right up to me and his face was inches from mine. He was about a couple of years older than me. His eyes was violet, strangely violet...
I was holding the knife behind my back. As his hand reached for my neck, I let out a primal scream and lashed out as hard as I could. He stumbled backwards, a shocked look on his face. The knife was sticking out of his chest.
I pushed past him and ran out into the hallway. He tried to follow me, but when I looked over my shoulder, I saw him drop to his knees. Then, he fell face-down on the carpet. I wasn't sure if he was alive or dead and I didn't want to take the chance.
I ran into my bedroom and locked the door behind me. Matt lay slump against the wall, a large purple bump already forming on his forehead. He was unconsicous. I hurried over to him and cradled his head in my arms as I waited to the police to arrive. I touched Matt's face lightly and cried into his chest. Then, I heard sirens in the distance and soon, the flashing lights were outside.
The police yelled out when they entered my apartment and I heard them talking outside my room. They broke through my bedroom door and I looked up gratefully. "What happened in the hallway?" The police officer asked.
"He came in through my window and attacked my friend. Then he was coming for me so, I...I stabbed him."
The police officer looked puzzled. "Theres nothing in that hallway but a whole lot of blood."
I looked from him to the hallway and began screaming. I took my phone and threw it at the wall as hard as I could, shattering it. They took Matt to the hospital and brought me to the police station for questioning. Halfway through my interview, the officer was called out of the room. When he came back, he told me that body of a man had been found a few blocks from my house. He had died of stab wounds.
They indentified the man and learned that he had a criminal record for stalking, kidnapping and attempted murder. They broke into his house and found one room completely dedicated to me. I saw the pictures the the police photographer took. The walls were covered from floor to ceiling with images of me. In some of them, I looked no older than thirten. There was a lot of sticky stuff encrusted on the walls and the pictures. There were pillows and an old blanket on the floor. I thought I recognized the blanket. It was one I had lost when I was a child... �