Officer Trent and the third officer begin searching along the path that I showed them. It didn’t take long for them to come back empty-handed, both literally and figuratively. My phone was nowhere to be found and there were no signs of my stalker, either. He’s most likely been gone for a while now. On top of that, my only witness, Jake, didn’t actually see the black figure. It seems like all of their questions are designed to poke holes in my story. I know they’re just doing their job but it’s almost like they don’t believe me. 

Jake offered to take me home but I politely declined. He’s already done enough for me tonight. Plus, Officer Trent is dropping me off. He said it’s on his way back to the precinct. My apartment is right down the street, after all. Close enough that I walked here to begin with. In fact, the drive only takes about two minutes and I’m home. 

I politely thank Officer Williams and I make my way up my apartment steps. When I get to my front door, I notice that I still have Jake’s blanket wrapped around me. I feel a pang of guilt for taking it, almost like I stole it. I pull my ring of keys from my pocket, thankful that I didn’t drop it like I did my phone. My hands shake as I fumble to unlock the door. It takes what feels like minutes to open all three of the locks. Then, by some stroke of God, I pull on the door handle and I’m into my apartment. 

My body flushes with a mixture of adrenaline and relief and I slam the door behind me, leaning into it as I secure each of the locks. It doesn’t take long before every light in the place is on. My bedroom. The bathroom. The kitchen. The living room. Well, every light is kind of an exaggeration, considering I have a total of four lights in my entire apartment. My one bedroom, one bathroom abode is a whopping 820 square feet. I have a small galley kitchen that is basically separated from the rest of the apartment. Without the small fluorescent ceiling light, there is almost no illumination there. None of the three windows in the place reaches the kitchen, so there’s no natural light. And, of course, I pay much more in rent than would be expected of such a small place. But that’s the price you pay to live in Bellevue.

After I search my whole apartment and close all of the curtains, I finally feel a small sense of relief. Don’t get me wrong, I’m still scared out of my mind, but at least I know that no one can see inside. I think about what happened for a moment and I let everything sink in. I put my hand on the right pocket of my leggings, thinking that my phone would be in it. I can’t call anyone. Not Rowan or Ben or my mom. 

I glance at the microwave. 10:06. My gaze then shifts from the microwave to the cardboard box on the opposite counter. It reads, “Corbett Canyon Pinot Grigio”. I contemplate my options for the night. Do I drink a few glasses of wine or do I drink half a bottle of Nyquil? Either way, I’m going to need help falling asleep and wine is definitely cheaper than Nyquil. I grab a delicate (mostly because it is cheaply made) wine glass from the cabinet above the dishwasher. I fill my cup, nearly to the brim, and plop myself down on the sofa. It takes me a moment to find the TV remote. Time for another reality TV show about some wives with some husbands that did famous stuff. 

I know what you’re probably thinking. How can you relax and watch TV at a time like this? But I think the normalcy of TV is what calms me down. After catching up on a few episodes of various reality TV shows and downing a few more glasses of wine, I find myself dozing off on the couch. Even though my bedroom is only a few feet away, I decide to sleep on the couch. I pull down the blanket that is conveniently lying on the crest of the sofa (I put it there for exactly this reason). In a matter of minutes, I’m in dreamland, being chased once again by the black mirage.