Page 2 of Stuffing My Obsession
Paris
“I’m telling you, someone’s following me.”
The officer doesn’t even look up from his computer. He just keeps clicking on the keyboard in front of him, like filling in my contact information is more important than the actual complaint. The harsh fluorescent lights buzz above us, making my headache worse than it already is.
“Ma’am—” He sighs, finally glancing at me. “Baltimore has a lot of people. Maybe you’re just…nervous. You’re a young woman, walking home late, it happens.”
I grind my teeth against the frustration bubbling in my throat, fisting my hands so tightly my nails bite into my palms.
Nervous?
I’m not imagining the roses, the texts, or the shadow in my room last night.
“No,” I snap, sharper than I mean to, but I can’t help it. “This isn’t me being paranoid. For days now, I’ve had this…thisfeeling. Like someone’s watching me. And then the roses started showing up.”
He arches a brow. “Roses?”
“Yes. A single red rose on my doorstep every night.” I can still see the one from last night, the petals blood-bright against the faded carpet in the hallway of my apartment building. “At first, I thought maybe it was just…sweet, like a secret admirer. But it’s not sweet anymore. It’s creepy. Someone is watching me.”
The cop leans back, lips twitching like he’s holding back a laugh. “So, what you’re saying is…some guy thinks you’re pretty, leaves flowers on your doorstep, and you want us to launch an investigation over it?”
Heat creeps up my neck, embarrassment and fury tangled together. God, why won’t anyone believe me?
“It’s not just flowers.” My voice wavers, but I steel it. “Last night, I woke up and there was a shadow in my room. I swear someone was there. I screamed, turned the light on, but by the time I did, he was gone. My window was cracked open and—” I break off, shaking my head. “This just isn’t right.”
The officer sighs, typing something lazily into the computer. “Look, Ms.…?”
“Blake. Paris Blake.”
“Ms. Blake.” He says my name like I’m a nuisance. “Unless he’s threatened you directly or tried to break in—officially—we can’t do much. File a report, sure, but you’re asking us to chase shadows.”
Shadows.The word makes me shiver.
I wrap my arms around myself, as if it could somehow contain the chill slicing through my veins. “So, what, I just wait until something worse happens?”
His silence is answer enough.
My stomach twists into knots as the realization of my situation dawns on me. I’m alone in this. I thought I’d be safe if I just reported it to the cops, but they aren’t even taking me seriously.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, startling me. I glance down at the screen. It’s another text from the unknown number.
You really shouldn’t walk alone at night, Angel.
My breath catches in my throat, my blood suddenly going cold.
I look back at the cop. He’s still slouched in his chair, his expression already checked out, like he’s forgotten I exist.
“This is pointless,” I mutter under my breath, pushing my chair back.
He glances up, relief crossing his pudgy face as he flashes me a dismissive smile. I turn to leave, barely resisting the urge to roll my eyes.
I jam my fists into the pockets of my jacket as I step out of the police station. The night air is sharp against my cheeks. The city feels louder than usual—cars honking, sirens wailing in the distance, the hum of a world that doesn’t care whether I live through tonight or not.
The cop’s words keep ringing in my head in discordant echoes.
Shadows. Nervous. Overreacting.
Maybe I’m overreacting, maybe—
