The Stalker

The Stalker: Love, Romane, Action, Malik, Stalking, Free Short Story, Fabling, Pam

“Guy I dey tell you. Person dey always fap my clothes.” Malik said to his friend as they left his apartment. He was seeing him off. “Yesterday I spread my boxers to dry, I never even turn finish the thing don disappear.”

“Have you asked all the guys in the compound?” His friend, Dede asked.

“Asked? I have even visited them to use style and check for my clothes. I no find am. It’s like once they steal it they sell it.”

I heard Dede laugh as their voices slowly faded away.

I love hearing Malik’s voice, even when he is complaining. It is not too masculine and not too boyish, it has a certain smoothness too it. Like having warm oil being massaged into to your back. I pulled away from the window now that his voice had faded. I stretched and walked into the bathroom wearing nothing but his boxers.

I lathered myself with Dudu Osun, it was his brand of soap, I had seen him dispose of it’s pack a couple of times. When I was done bathing I dried myself with his towel, slipped into his boxers again, opened my wardrobe, selected one of his shirts, and wore it. It felt so good to be enveloped in his scent.

I could imagine his breath behind my neck as he hugged me from the back, his chest-beating in sync with mine, his hands wrapped around my waist, us just standing there. Today my thoughts were more innocent. Last night was spent with him tied up to his bed and me having my way with him.

I heard his footsteps as he returned to his room and snapped out of my thoughts. I had to get ready. He was going to see his mother today, I had to know where his parents lived. I knew everything about his life but almost nothing about his family.

I returned his shirt to my wardrobe and wore a knee-length gown over his boxers, brushed my hair over my shoulders, applied a little makeup, put on my sneakers, picked up my handbag, and exited my apartment just as he exited his.

We made eye contact but said nothing. We had been flatmates for a year yet we had never even said hi to each other. It was partly because of me, I always avoid him. I could not open my mouth whenever I was around him, he probably thought that I was a snub.

He locked his door and walked and I followed him, we both got in the same bus, I pretended like it was a coincidence, still, he looked like he was holding himself back from asking me questions.

The bus took off and I whipped out my phone to stalk him on Facebook. I wasn’t paying attention, I don’t know what happened next or how it happened, but the bus veered off the road and tumbled down a hill.

I was sitting in the middle of the third row and Malik was in front of me, glass scattered everywhere, it happened so fast. By the time the bus stopped falling the fat woman beside me had died, probably from the shock, and the blood loss. The bus was filled with moans and grunts from injured passengers.

Somehow I was still alive. The weight of the woman had painfully pinned me to my chair as she and some other women and men kept screaming ‘Blood of Jesus.’ I pulled myself from under the woman. As I got up I saw my phone tucked between her breasts and took it out. The window was shattered already. I put my weight on her and kicked it. I was about to leave when I heard his moan. He was in pain. I turned around and pulled him, some injured man was on top of him, I pushed him away.

‘I wouldn’t be able to get him through the window.’ I thought. Then I noticed the driver’s body hanging on the bonnet through the wind shield. I kicked at it and it shattered completely.  Then I dragged my Malik out. After we got out, i saw three other passengers manage to get out through the broken windows and windshield. I hadn’t noticed them when I was inside.

Spectators had also gathered and were now pulling the other passengers out; most of whom were dead. Meanwhile, I had managed to stop Malik’s bleeding. I took off his shirt and pressed it against his stomach. Luckily his face was not badly damaged, he only had a little cut on his forehead.

The ambulance arrived faster than I expected and I was rushed into the white and red bus with some other injured people.

“Will he be alright?” I asked the nurse attending to his wounds.

“Yes.” She said, “You need to stay calm, you are also covered in cuts.”

That was when it hit me. Pain, my body ached, my neck felt like a baton had struck it, must have been from the fat woman, my legs still had pieces of glass lodged inside them. The pain was unbearable, I slumped.

By the time I opened my eyes I was in the hospital, connected to a drip. It was not blood.

I was okay. The doctor said I had fainted from shock not because of blood loss. I asked about Malik and I was told that he was okay but needed blood. I remembered that my blood type was O positive so I suggested my blood. At first, the doctor refused but after we did a blood test I was allowed to donate two pints of blood to him. And as I stood beside his bed, watching my blood flow into his veins. I thought to myself. ‘My blood now flows through my Malik. We are now one. I will go through that accident, over and over again to hold on to this feeling.’

“Miss Agero.” The doctor walked in. “Here, the police recovered this. Let him have his when he wakes up.”

It was his bag pack and my handbag. Surprisingly my ATM was still inside and so was my money. I also went through his bag, his phone was in it. It had no password. I began to scroll through his messages and WhatsApp. Then I took out my phone to send some of his pictures to mine.

The first picture I saw in his gallery shocked me. You would not believe what it was. It was my Facebook profile picture. I kept scrolling and saw more of my pictures. He had been stalking me too.

The End

Who else to give me this tittle challenge than my darling herself, my partner in crime, Ekwebelem Tsunade Elizabeth!

If you enjoyed The Stalker you’ll enjoy The Secret

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