It was like having eyes following you everywhere you went, even in your own home. Safety quickly became a distant thought in your mind, in other words, you were being stalked.

You didn't know who he was, but the man in question was always in the same places you went to, even if he was nothing but a blurry figure among the crowd.

Not knowing what to do, you chose to ignore it. Maybe it was only paranoia; there was no one there; that man was not real, just a coincidence. 

But it only took a few months for you to be proved wrong.

The protection you felt at home was ripped away in a matter of time. Windows and doors now always locked and covered, but you could swear that you saw him opening some of them once while you tried to sleep.

His name is Cale, that's what the bartender from your favorite café said when you asked who the frequent customer was.

Returning home after a long day, you went to take a quick shower, and then—click—he was in your garden again, taking a picture with his camera while he pointed at the small window in the bathroom. Scared enough of him, you pretended you saw nothing, discreetly closing the curtains. But it was too late, he already knew what you were about to do and rushed, it wasn't the first time it happened either.

“Please, no…” You lamented to yourself in the edge of panicking, quickly getting your phone in hand and dialing the police before you heard a door creak behind you.

He was behind you.

“Finally…” He grinned, muffling your words with his palm as he held you in a tight grip as your phone fell from your hold.