It's 1 am.  I get on the last subway train of the evening.  There are two men sitting at one end, three teenaged boys at the other and a man in his 60's sits across from me.  I am the lone female on this car.  The doors shut before I can change my mind and return to the safety of the platform.  I am trapped here.  Trapped until we reach the next station.  A station that is 10 minutes away. Will I be robbed, raped or worse?  

This ride seems to be an eternity.  I try not to make eye contact with anyone in hopes they won’t notice me.  I feel their heaviness upon me.  He keeps staring at me. Why does he keep staring? Why won’t he stop?  Is he ill or crazy?  I don’t think he’s drunk.  I cannot smell the booze.  Why does he keep staring?  I don’t look directly at him, but out of the corner of my eye I can see his hungry, penetrating eyes.  I know what he is thinking. He is making plans, planning on how to hurt me, kill me and then dispose of my body.

Each time we approach a station I want to bolt from the train.  Run to the safety of the main floor of the station.  But where do I go from there?  All of the stations will be closing up for the evening and I will be sent out to the streets.  I can't take a cab home.  I only have enough money to buy groceries before I receive my next pay cheque, a pay cheque that is four days away.  Four days is a long time to go without food.  I try not to look at them.  I try to put my thoughts somewhere else.  

I do everything in my power to not think about how scared I am.  I make mental lists of all the things I need to do tomorrow, the next day and even next week.  I try and sketch out the book cover in my head, the one that is due in a week.  The one I should have started working on 2 months ago.  I try, but my mind continues to wander back to that dark place, the murky depths of fear. 

The train slows down and comes to a stop.  We aren’t at the station yet.  Will I be trapped in the tunnel with these men?  What if they realise I am the only woman here. I try to remember what is in my purse.  Is there something I can use as a weapon?  I can only remember putting make-up, keys, my debit card, a cell phone and a hairbrush in my bag.  I wish I had bought that can of pepper spray when I saw it in the convenience store. Maybe I can use my keys to poke his eyes out, or shove them in his throat like the girl did in that horror movie I watched last night.

Finally the train pulls up to my station.  I exit the train before the doors can completely open.  I swiftly walk away from the train turning frequently to ensure no one is following.  I run up the stairs and to the exit.  The fare

collector is not in his booth.  Where is he?  Why is he gone?  Has he locked the doors already?  Am I locked in the station?  What if he followed me out of the train? I don’t stay in the station long enough to find out.

I am certain someone followed me from the subway station. I think it was the older man, he must have followed me off the train. I can feel him following me, but each time I turn around no one is there.  All I see are garbage cans and streetlights.  But I know someone is there, I can hear his footsteps.  I see shadows dart behind signposts and parked cars. I walk faster. My heart beats rapidly.  Someone follows, yet I cannot see him.  It's probably a serial killer; they are good at cat and mouse.  I guess that would make me the mouse.

I am almost to my front steps.  I fumble for my keys.  Damn it! They were in my bag earlier.  A cold shiver runs through my body.  What if I cannot get my keys out?  The man following me will be behind me in a matter of seconds.  My neighbour’s lights are out.  Even if I scream they won’t make it downstairs in time.  Finally I touch cold metal; thank god my keys. I push the keys into the lock.  The door swings open.  I am inside.

Darkness.  The house is so dark.  My chest begins to tighten.  Do I hear breathing?  Maybe he got here before I did and came in the back door.  How did he know where I lived?  Has he been following me? 

My chest is pounding.  It feels like my heart is going to burst out of it.  Where is the light switch?  Why can’t I find it?  My hands are so cold and clammy, I am shivering now.  Why am I so afraid?  If I could only get to the light switch.  

Oh My God!  What was that noise.  Something is moving towards me. I am frozen where I stand.  Coldness surrounds me. I cannot breath.  I hopelessly move my hand up and down the wall, praying that I get to the switch before he does, it does.  What ever is in the room with me. I feel something.  It’s the light switch.  I fumble with the cold plastic knob.  At first I turn it the wrong way.  I panic.  It’s broken.  He broke it.  Finally I turn the light on, but nothing is there.  Nothing.  

Is he hiding somewhere?  The basement? A closet? Behind the shower curtain?  I cannot move.  I feel as if I am standing in quick dry cement.  I know I must check every dark corner, open every closet door.  Turn every light on in my house.  But first I need a weapon.

I slowly creep into my kitchen, making sure that I don’t breath too hard or make the floorboards squeak.  I need

to get the knife.  I can slash and stab what or who ever is in my house waiting to kill me.

It seems like an eternity, but I finally make it to the drawer.  When I open it my large butcher knife is not there.  Oh Gawd!  He has my knife.  I can hear my heart beating in my head.  Oh Gawd!  Where is my knife? I am close to tears.  I try not to cry, as the noise of my sobbing will only tell him where I am. Wait, I think I put the knife in the sink this morning.  Yes there it is, in the sink.  I slowly pull the knife out of the wet pile of dishes.  Careful not to make any unnecessary noise.  

Slowly and as stealth as possible I move from room to room.  I open every door, pull back every blind, curtain and bed sheets.  I look under beds and behind couches.  I check the first and second floors thoroughly not leaving any corner unchecked.  But, there is one floor.  A floor that has too many hiding spots.  It's a floor that is dark and full of shadows.  I don’t want to go down to there.  I don’t want to go to the… basement.

If I don't check the basement I won't be able to put my mind at peace.  I have to check it.  I have a knife; I have a way to protect myself.  I finally am able to calm myself enough to go there. I walk to the top of the stairs and ensuring I stay in the light of the hallway, I reach in to turn on the light switch.  I flip it up... but nothing happens.  None of the lights in the basement have come on.  There are four of them, why aren't any of them coming on.  Why?  Tears begin to well up in my eyes.  I try hard not to cry.  I compose myself long enough to realize I have turned the wrong switch on.  I reach further and turn on the switch to the basement.

I feel like I am in slow motion as I creep down the stairs.  What happens if I get into the basement and he is there?  I am trapped.  There is no way out of my basement. I feel like I am going to be sick.  It feels like an eternity, but I check every inch of the basement.  Every last inch.  There is no one here, no one at all except for me.  I take a deep breath.  I feel the fear leaving my body.  I let out a small laugh.  I can't believe I scared myself this way.  Why do I always do this?

I decide that I will go back upstairs and make myself a tea and watch some TV before I go to bed.  As I walk to the basement stairs I am now shaking my head, wondering if I am the only person in the world who is this paranoid.  I turn, place my foot on the first step and look up.  He is standing there... grinning at me.

© bending spoons, 2004-2006