The Stalker

I knew he was in love with me. I could feel his gaze upon my every movement all of the time. He would watch me in the college’s library as I read or studied. He would watch me as I left the building to begin my walk home after classes. There have been many times where I have caught him quickly looking away from me after I would turn and catch his eyes resting upon me. He did not have many friends. Barry was his name.  

I was sitting on campus on an outdoor bench underneath a tree, looking at a book. And there he was, sitting on the table-part of the bench just mere yards away, his feet planted on the lower portion where sitting was meant to take place. He was leaned forward with his elbows resting on his knees. His hair flowed in the breeze. I did not know why he was staring at me. Then, he stood up and began walking toward me. I looked away and lowered my gaze to the literature in my hand, struggling to place all of my focus onto the book. It was a thriller, one of my favorite genres. He came close to me and whispered in my ear, “Stay away from this place tomorrow.” I looked up at him and our eyes locked. Chills went down my spine. I had a feeling that he was up to zero good. Too often, heinous campus crimes are reported of some mentally fragile person carrying out open attacks. I prayed that this would not become the case. He slowly leaned away from me, returning to full-stance. He turned and strode away. My eyes lingered on the back side of him as I wondered what he meant in such a sinister tone. 

I woke up the next morning. I immediately thought of Barry. As I performed my morning hygiene routine I pondered his comment. But I had decided to not let his words bother me any longer, and I headed off to campus. 

I sat outside on the bench reading my book. There he was. His facial expression was not welcoming. I would go as far as to say that the guy looked angry with me about something. What had I done to Barry? Nothing, except try to ward off his glares by distracting myself with other things. This time, it was to no avail. Though my back was fully to Barry, I could feel his gaze burning into what seemed to be my very soul. I fought with all of my might to resist turning to look over my shoulder in the false hopes of his no longer being there, but the temptation proved victorious. Slowly, I turned my head, trying to capture a glimpse from the very corner of my peripheral vision. I had cocked my angle of vision just enough to determine that he was indeed still lingering, watching. And then, he rose from his sitting position atop of the nearby bench and proceeded in my direction. I quickly whipped my head back to its forward position. I felt my eyes grow wide with anticipation. My heartbeat quickened. My palms grew clammy. What ominous instruction would he give me this time? Rather than staying to find out, I hurriedly collected my book, notepad, pen, and cell phone. I tossed them into my over-the-shoulder bag with quivering hands as I stood up to exit the scene.  

As I took the first steps in going, Barry called out to me, “Hey!” I stopped in my tracks. I slowly turned one-hundred eighty degrees to face him. He walked up to me, eyes unkind, and stopped there before me. He was silent at first, and then he spoke. “Stay away from here tomorrow!” As my mind scrambled to muster a reply, Barry was already heading away. Perhaps, this young man was suffering from some form of paranoia. I did not know. I turned and rushed from the college and to my apartment. 

That night, I could not sleep. I was worried about what Barry might do. Would innocent lives be taken? Why has he loved me so much to want to spare mine? I tossed and turned, trying to think of what to say to Barry had another encounter between he and I happen. I finally drifted to sleep. 

The next day when I went for my outdoor campus read, I sat in a different area than usual. I felt calmer, collected. Until I looked up from my book to find Barry looking at me from afar. He immediately started heading my way! My stomach seemed to grow hot, and I had forgotten all that I had practiced in my head the night before for this situation. He asked me angrily, “Why do you continue to watch me?!” 

I had no words. 

“Well?” He demanded. 

After a shocked pause, I replied, “Because, Barry. You keep watching me.”  

He warned, “You’re going to find yourself in danger if you are here tomorrow. Trust me on it.” And Barry walked away. 

I went to campus the next day. I refused to permit Barry to try intimidating me this way any longer! While he sat on the bench, I secretly kept my eye on Barry. That is when I saw campus security nearing him. 

I watched on in silence behind the large tree as the campus security officers approached Barry. I wondered what could be going on. Did they find evidence of his stalking other ladies? Have others been complaining about him and his behavior?  

He stood speaking with campus security. The dialogue seemed uneventful at the start. Then, Barry’s body language showed that he was beginning to grow upset. My eyes squinted to obtain a better view of the scene. Then Barry shot his gaze directly at me and pointed me out to the uniformed staff! In a panic, I swooped up my satchel and dashed away. The officers spotted me. They started to chase me! 

The rest was a blur until I woke up at a nearby hospital. I did not recognize the place as being the campus hospital. I started to sit up from the little bed in which I was lying, only to discover that I had been handcuffed to its side railing. Two officers entered the room and approached me. “What is this?” I asked frantically. “What is going on?” I demanded. 

“Miss, we have had some complaints about you stalking some of the students on the campus nearby.” 

I was shocked by their words. Rage immediately overshadowed the feeling. “I am a student at the college!” I explained to them. “I attend that school! Somebody is making this up!” 

The officers appeared unimpressed. “Miss,” they proceeded, “We have evidence that you have been stalking one of the students there at the college.” One of them presented me with what looked to be photographs that would appear in a surveillance room for authorities to examine.  

Photos of me, leering at Barry, as he pretended to dislike this. Photos of his looking, quite convincingly, frustrated as I was peering at him from that book I pretended to read. Photos of me watching Barry enter the school, exit the school, with his seeming to not notice in a few of the shots. Photos of me being lost in the sight of his beautiful hair, his magical eyes, his kissable lips. Photo after photo of my watching him get into and out of his vehicle, of watching him enter and exit his dorm room.  

I shook my head in disbelief. How could these professionals get this so wrong?! “No,” I started. “No. No! That is Barry! He attends the same college as me! He is stalking me! You can ask him yourself!” 

“Miss, this young man has been killed by your hand.” One of the two stated. 

The other added, “You were never a student at that college. You were obsessed with this young man who knew nothing about you. You entered that campus time and time again, despite his pleas of your stopping so. Once we had the proof of this, you tried eluding the officers, and you pulled out a gun from your bag, and you shot this poor, young man to death!” 

Parts of these events began to come back to me, in hazy and patchy pieces. Yes, I did kill Barry that day. I hastily started to explain to the cops what had truly transpired. “He was stalking me! He was in love with me! IN LOVE, I TELL YOU! He wanted me!” It was clear to me that these men standing before me with such disgustingly disapproving expressions mixed with a glimmer of sympathy did not believe my truth. But I continued trying to prove my innocence. “He has no friends, you know? Do you know that?! He stares at me because I am beautiful! Me!” I tried not to ramble but all control had been lost. That fire inside of me refused to stop. I said, “He doesn’t even have a family! Do you know that? He has no family or friends; do you know that?! He is in love me! My Barry finally notices me! You took him from me!” 

I looked longingly at the photos of Barry which were now placed on a table nearby my bed. The soothing fantasies of him returned to my mind and calmed me. “I have no friends,” I stated, not knowing if I were confessing this to the officers or confessing it to myself. “I have no family. Certainly not a great one like Barry’s.” With tear filled eyes, I looked up at the officers. I said to them, “He is perfect.” I told them, “He loves me. The perfect man loves me.” 

It has been nearly a year now. I still reminisce about My Perfect Barry. I was not even allowed out of my cell to go to his funeral after his untimely demise. His amazing family, and his infinite number of friends were in attendance at his funeral. But the jury here at the ward would not allow me, the love of his life to attend. Can you believe that?