Page 5 of Stalked

It was disgusting, degrading, and downright fuckinghot. Something was seriously wrong with me. There could be a million other thingsI’d like to be attracted to, but of course, for some reason, the suit guy and this stalker are my undoing. I don’t know what I did to deserve this, but suit-man and stalker have been invading my dreams.

I blame it on my fucked-up childhood. I mean Dan, my father, isn’t really my father. He’s my uncle. My mother slept with my biological father, Dan’s brother. Got pregnant with me and thought it would be a good idea to keep it a secret, only for it to come out that I wasn’t Dan’s. She was murdered. Along with my biological father, leaving me and my sister with a psycho who found it comical to beat me and let my sister-cousin be raped. It wasn’t until I was fifteen and was almost raped myself that Izel and I got away.

That was fifteen years ago, and now, while my sister and her husband live peacefully in North Dakota, I decided to grow a set of my own balls and move to New York and teach art. I wouldn’t say it’s failing, but my apartment is, and I can barely afford to live. But it’s all worth it to teach children to draw, to know that art is just as important as any sport out there.

Shaking my thoughts, I take a sip of my iced coffee. Turning the corner, I spot my art studio. I could still feelhim,my stalker, close behind. I had to fight the urge to turn around and see if I could get a glimpse of him. I don’t know how I could tell it was a guy and not a girl. Let’s say I was trusting my gut, something I learned I had to do at a young age.

Pulling my keys out, I unlock my studio door, flicking the lights on before closing it and relocking the door. I might like that I have a stalker, but that doesn’t mean I’m stupid and want something to actually happen to me.

Making my way into the back office, though, it’s more like a closet. The whole studio is small, with two long tables along both walls, a large window next to the front door, and my office in the back corner.It’s small, but it’s all mine. Sure, Zion and Izel paid for my schooling, and I’m grateful for their help, but now it’s all on me to pay my way.

Setting my iced coffee down, I sit, pulling out the sprinkled donut. Shoving half of it into my mouth, I pull out my old laptop and start diving into emails.

It’s not until a sharp knock at the door that I finally glance up from my artwork. Groaning, I glance over at the clock, frowning when I realize it’s almost nine at night.Fuck.After reading the emails, I felt the need to paint, and I ate the other two donuts on the desk and began to work. I hadn’t realized I was so wrapped up in my work until now.

“Gabe! I know you’re in there. Open the fucking door!” Billy screams. Another row of heavy knocks causes me to flinch. I hate when I do that but call it PTSD or whatever you want. Loud noises, yelling, or fast movement do it for me.

Plus, Billy is a piece of shit. We barely dated for four months before we broke up. Finding him balls-deep in some girl in my apartment would do that. Not that I was all that surprised. He was out at all times of the night. I knew something shady was going on and should have trusted my gut. I still don’t know what he was involved in, but I didn’t want anything to do with him. So, I had no idea why he was here to begin with.

Rolling my shoulders, I make my way to the door. I should’ve ignored him and just went to the office. I’m not good at confrontationlike my sister. I actually suck at it. It makes me uncomfortable, and nervous and usually causes panic attacks.

Taking a much-needed breath, I unlock the door and pull it open an inch. I don’t need Billy barging in here. Who knows what he’ll do? He’s never physically hit me; he was more mentally abusive than anything.

“What do you want, Billy?” I ask, keeping myself halfway in front of the door.

“Let me in,” he growls, stepping forward.

Shaking my head, I keep myself planted. Knowing all too well that if he truly wanted to get inside, there was no way I could stop him. I’m small compared to most men, and Billy is easily over six feet, and well over two hundred pounds. I’m short for a man, five foot seven, and usually I don’t mind, that is until someone towers over me wanting to do harm.

“I’m working, I-I, just tell me what you need.” My voice comes out small, and not as demanding as I try to make it.

“Just let me in, Gabriel!” He shoves his way inside, and my back slams against the wall. Billy throws the door closed, running his hand through his hair. I used to think it was hot when he did that. Now I just think he’s ugly, in looks and personality.

“Well, you’re in here. Now what?” I huff, crossing my arms over my chest. Hoping I looked more annoyed than scared. But for some reason, Billy being here, pulling on his hair…it was making me nervous.

“I need to know, I–fuck, I need to know if you told them anything,” he nervously asks, glancing around the studio. Looking for what, I don’t know.

“Tell who what?” I ask, furrowing my brows. I have no idea what he’s talking about.

“I’m not stupid. I saw him at our apartment a few weeks ago.”

“First off, it’s my apartment,” I hiss, no idea where this unfound anger came from. Maybe I haven’t dealt with him cheating on me but fuck it. “Second off, I have no idea what you’re talking about. No one ever came tomyapartment, and–”

Suddenly Billy advances toward me, gripping my chin, and shoves me against the wall. “I saw him! I’M NOT FUCKING STUPID.”

My vision blurs, the uneasy feeling that he’s about to hurt me unsettling my stomach. I honestly have no idea what he’s talking about, but I hate that he thinks he can just come in here and boss me around. And I hate even more that I’m letting him. That I’m bowing down and letting him put his disgusting hands on me.

“I saw him. I saw the fucking suit at the apartment!” he yells into my face. “I saw him, now tell me. What did he want, and what did you tell him?”

My breath hitches at the mention of suit man. While I do find him quite attractive, I never found out why he broke into the apartment, waited for an hour, and then left. Besides him questioning where Billy was and saying a little in another language, neither of us spoke. And I can’t stop thinking about or jerking off to the thought of him.

Something is seriously wrong with me.

“I didn’t tell him anything,” I choke out, willing myself not to cry.

“I don’t believe you!” he growls, hatred dripping from his voice. Well, fuck you too, buddy.

“Billy, I’m not lying.” Even if I wanted to, I’m a shit liar, just like my sister. It’s a fault, honestly. “He-he did ask, but I didn’t know where you were. I couldn’t even tell them, even if I wanted to.” The words flew from my mouth, but they only seemed to enrage Billy more. His grip tightened against my jaw; I knew he was leaving bruises. “Billy please, stop,” I plead. Suddenly, he shoves me harder into the wall, dropping his hand from my face.

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