What? This someone knows that Jack was late? How? Is he being stalked or something? And how the fuck is he supposed to answer if he even don’t know who is writing to him? If Rian was right and these notes are from some kids, than their parents should keep an eye on them. This is not normal! But seriously - we have to start somewhere? What’s that supposed to mean? We? There’s no we until this someone says [or writes] who he or she is!

Forgetting about his still opened mail box, he walks to the elevator, presses the button with number four on it and leans his back against elevators wall. Panicked look on his face he rereads the little note. Maybe, he’s overreacting.He just needs to ignore them and sooner or later this someone will get bored. Yes, that’s exactly what he’ll do. He don’t have time to figure out how to answer this someone, he have to write an essay about this French Revolution due to next Friday. Secretly he hoped that his old professor will finally die till next Friday, but he’s surprisingly lively so probably he’ll still be standing next to his desk waiting for all essays.

Walking in to his apartment he carefully places the little note on his coffee table next to the previous one and walks in to the kitchen to finally get something to eat, some real food. Quickly making himself a proper meal, he pours some juice in a glass and takes that all to his living room. Putting his plate and glass on the coffee table he turns on TV on some random channel, nothing too interesting to catch his interest.

Drinking his juice he scans his room. Walls are too plain, he needs to put there some posters or pictures or something to make it look more colorful. His carpet is a bit dirty and he should probably clean it, but he also should move this coffee table somewhere else. It’s in the way. His eyes run over his three notes before looking back the TV screen.

Some woman are standing in her bathroom and screaming. Where has he seen this? He definitely has seen this movie before. It’s The Shining! Of course, but why would they show it in the middle of day if it’s considered to be a horror movie. Jack doesn’t see anything from horror movie in this one, but it should be.

What!? Three notes!? There should be only two! His eyes are locked to one note, still unfolded and untouched.

“Here’s Johnny!” and the woman screams again.

Jack’s fingers become weak and he lets the glass to fall on the floor, spilling the remaining juice all over his carpet. Three notes. But…how… Maybe Rian left something here yesterday, some of his notes or…he writes down sometimes…on little notes…

“Stop kidding yourself, Jack. You know Rian wouldn’t leave anything.”

Besides, there were only one before Jack put down this one which means there should be only two. His heart is beating so hard his chest starts to hurt, his palms sweaty and fingers shaking.

“Don’t pick it up, don’t pick it up,” he whispers to himself, watching as his hand reaches for thenote. He unfolds the note and reads.

You left your mail box open, but don’t worry, I closed it. You should be more careful.
Anyway, you thought how to answer me and I remembered that probably you really have no idea so I should tell you. It’s not hard. Just put your note in your mail box and I’ll get it. I know you have many questions and I’ll be more than happy to answer. I can’t promise that I’ll be able to answer all of them, but I’ll do my best.
Have a nice weekend and better start your essay tomorrow, don’t leave it to the last night ;)

How did…how did this someone get in to his apartment? He locked his doors, right? He jumps up from his couch and runs to the doors. Locked. Then…how? Is he starting to lose his mind? Have he started to write to himself? No. He would know that or someone else would’ve noticed that.

And should he answer? Yes, he have many questions, but to write someone who’s stalking him. That’s just crazy. Just put your note in your mail box and I’ll get it. That means he or she is close. They’re watching him, they know that he was late, they know that he left his mail box open and somehow they managed to get in his apartment not noticed by Jack.

But if he answers that would mean…what? What would that mean? That he wants to communicate with this someone, but that’s not what he wants. He just want to get to know who is this person and why are they writing to him.

“Fuck it,” he groans and takes his notebook out of his bag, opens some page and rips it out. Finding some pen on his table he starts to think of what to ask. He have many questions, that’s true, but he can’t just ask all of them in one note. But if he waits to ask them it could turn out to be something like having a pen friend and that’s not what he wants. He just wants to know who they are and why are they doing this.

Yes, that’s decided. Just who they are and what they want. But how should he write it? This someone seems to be friendly so it would be rude to not hey or something like that.

Hey, who are you and what do you want? Why are you writing to me?

It looks weird, but the three mysterious notes on his table looks just as weird as the one he just wrote. Looking at his note and the three notes on his table, he sighs and walks to the doors. Just go down, put the note in the mail box and leave. Forget about it till tomorrow.

But Jack knows better. It won’t be easy to forget about it. In the elevator, number one on the button and then just wait. What if this someone is down there all the time? Just waiting somewhere, hiding and watching him? The thought itself makes Jack want to press the stop button and go back to his apartment and not leave it ever again. Not alone anyway. He’ll move back to Rian and be safe there. There were no notes while he lived with him.

Doors open and he steps out of the elevator, not daring to look around. He walks over to mail boxes and quickly slides his note into his mailbox. It would look weird to anyone watching now, but this whole situation is weird.

He turns around to get back in the elevator and glances around to see if someone’s watching, but he’s alone. No one’s there but Jack. Some steps outside of the building, some voices and some car passes by and then there’s Jack. Scared of someone who might be out there watching him.

Back into the elevator, quick walk to his apartment, lock the doors and check. He checked the doors for three times, but remembering the last note he understood that there’s no need to check the doors. They still got in somehow.

---

Considering what the stranger wrote about his essay, he went to bed early. Maybe it was also because of his previous night and this morning. All day he felt half asleep, like walking in the clouds with light head and heavy eyelids. He needed to be fresh and ready if he wanted to finish this essay as fast as possible and it is better to do that now then wait till last minute.

He was woken up by some sound. Well, that’s what he thought. It sounded like quiet steps, but it could’ve as well been his neighbors. He listened into the dark, losing any hope to hear anything and shrugging it off, but then he heard it again and it was definitely not his neighbors. The sound came from the other side of his bedroom doors. It was a mixture of steps and something else. Something that Jack just couldn’t figure out.

The little voice in his head practically yelled at him when he got up from his bed and quietly tiptoed to his doors and slowly opened them, enough to look out of his room and into the living room area. It was dark and at first he couldn’t see anything, but then the sound caught his attention. There was someone in the kitchen for sure. The sound of the glass or cup being pushed on his counter and then muffled voice.

He stepped out of the safety of his room and took few steps to look over to the kitchen area. His heart nearly broke his ribs when he saw a silhouette, but there was something different to it; something that made him look bigger and maybe more dangerous than any normal human being. It could’ve been the fact that it was the middle of the night, but that something looked dark, making this someone look…scary, to say least.

Jack took these few steps back to his room, stepped in and closed the doors behind him with quiet click. That sound made him wince. Now they know that he saw them. By morning he’ll be dead and maybe Rian will find him with cut throat or something. He waited for the steps to come closer, he waited for some breathing behind the door, but there was nothing. No steps, no breathing and, thanks to god, no one came into his room with a knife in their hand.


The person slowly turned towards the sound. That was Jack. He’d seen him. Or maybe he hadn’t. It’s dark, even if he saw something he couldn’t put all of these pieces together to get the clear picture of what was going on. Clearly the person adored Jack, but even he had to admit that Jack couldn’t think that far. Actually no one could think that far. People just don’t want to think that there’s something more. He closed his eyes, but there was nothing. Damn this human world!

---

Jack snapped his head up from the floor, where he’d been lying all night, to look at the phone on his nightstand. It was ringing and for sure it was Rian. Jack felt stiff from sleeping on the floor, but how he managed to fall asleep after what happened and why’d he stay on the floor was a secret for him. He grabbed his phone from his nightstand and answered,

“Hey dude! Could you help me today? I really need you here today and I’m not sure if…”

“Rian, I would be glad to help you, but seriously I have no time. I want to start the essay for the college,” he walked out of his room and went to sit on his couch, “but maybe you could come over later, around five or so. There’s something I would like to talk to you. Not that you could give me some advice, but…”

“If this is about some boy, then I’m not coming. I don’t want to hear you whining about how you don’t want anything serious, but apparently they want and you’re tired of that and blah, blah, blah. The same old story.”

“Shut up! It’s not about that. Just come and…we’ll talk.”

“Okay, I’ll call when I’ll be free.”

He hang up on him and put his phone on his coffee table eyes immediately catching the sight of white note, lying on the other side of the table.

“Fuck,” he muttered, reaching his hand towards the note. It was bigger than the rest.

Sorry to say that, but I can’t say who I am. Even if I did, you wouldn’t believe me. To make you believe I should show you, but you’re not ready and I’m not allowed to be that close to you yet. But one day you’ll see me and then I’ll show and tell you the real answer to that question.
The answer to your following questions might be quite the same – I don’t want anything from you, just for you to accept me. Accept the real me [actually that’s the reason I can’t tell you who I am]. I’m writing to you because I’m only allowed to contact you. You are my human and soon we’ll meet, but again I have to say that the full story you’ll find out then. I can’t say too much. Sorry.
I don’t like you calling me someone, stranger or stalker. You can call me Alex.

Notes

Sorry for any mistakes, I didn't reread it so...yeah...there might be some ;D
Also, I would like to warn you. There might not be any updates for the next week, cause I have an exam next week and probably I won't have time for anything else, but...who knows.... ;D