Every Breath You Take

Logan heard a faint click as she walked through the big glass door and another as she stepped inside. The noises were small and hard to latch onto, and for a moment, she thought she’d imagined them. 

Another click sounded as her perfectly white sneakers squeaked on the black and white tile taking her down the skinny hallway towards the bank of mailboxes. 

She ducked her head to rummage through her giant leather shoulder bag and nearly jumped out of her skin when Rodney appeared at her side seemingly out of nowhere. 

“Jesus!” She gasped and then laughed at herself when she recognized him. 

He was short and thin, almost alarmingly so, with cheeks and sharp features. His drab brown hair always seemed dirty and hung down into his dull green eyes. He wore an old faded hoodie nearly every single day, no matter the weather, and mismatched gray socks beneath pale denim cargo shorts.

He smiled up at Logan and leaned against the mailboxes, shuffling through a small stack of envelopes. 

“H-how are you today?” he asked, high-pitched voice hanging over their heads in the silent hall. 

Logan swallowed back her laughter and sighed. “Great. You?” Her smile was polite even though she wanted nothing more than to ignore him. He was always hanging around, always there whenever she was. He was just a little bit more than creepy. 

Rodney grinned. “Oh, I’m j-just great.” He licked his lip oddly as he stared up at her and Logan felt a chill run down her spine. 

She shook it off and fisted her keys, lifting them out of her bag. “Well… that’s good.” She paused long enough for him to take the hint and move, but he didn’t seem to catch on. With a flip of dark auburn hair, she cleared her throat and nodded at her mailbox, the one currency holding up his shoulder. “Excuse me…” 

Rodney laughed and stood up, backing away from her box. “Of course. Sorry about that.” He stepped back a few paces and set himself up against the opposite wall, pretending to open a letter. 

She could feel his eyes gazing over her shoulder and Logan moved to block her mailbox from view. 

Rodney sighed dramatically. “So many bills…” 

Logan slammed the tiny metal door shut and twisted the key. “Yeah. Bills, bills, bills!” She turned around and he was nearly on top of her. Her breath caught and her stomach churned. There was always something off with him.

“Any plans this weekend?” he asked, eyes trailing up and down her lightly freckled face. 

Logan cringed and shook her head. “Uh… nope.” She stepped back a tile and smiled pleasantly. “Well… see you around.” 

She turned, sneakers squeaking on the polished floor, and sprinted to the steps. 

“Sure will!” 

His voice followed her up to the second floor and she lingered there on the landing, out of sight and shivering. 

Something very, very strange about that guy. 

…

On Thursday, she was running late for work, having thrice slept through her alarm. She pinned her curls up into a messy bun and slapped on a bit of blue eye shadow and some cherry gloss. Her gleaming white sneakers looked cute with her navy sundress so she went with it, shrugging at her reflection. July in New York City was sweltering and it wasn’t as if she was headed to a fashion show. Life working in the book store wasn’t exactly glamorous but she did her best. 

Giant bag over her shoulder, she bounded down the three flights of stairs into the small lobby and nearly smacked right into him. 

Rodney was standing at the foot of the stairs checking his watch. He looked up when Logan appeared, a giant smile spreading across his face. 

“Good morning!” he chimed, voice just as irritating as a bell. 

Logan sighed softly and smiled, sidestepping him. “Morning.” 

He moved to block her way, looking up at her. “Late for work? It’s nearly eight.” 

Her stomach flipped. “How do you know-” She shook her head at such a silly idea. He knew she was late because she was rushing out of the door. “Uh… yeah. Didn’t hear the alarm this morning.” 

Rodney nodded sympathetically. “Yeah, that can happen…” 

“Mhm…” She moved to the left and he mirrored, still blocking her path. “So… excuse me.” She placed a hand on his upper arm and gently pushed by him, rushing for the door. 

She didn’t hear the sharp gasp, didn’t see him clutch the spot she’d touched or the fire in his eyes. She was only thinking about getting to work. 

…

Rodney was sitting on the bottom step when she got home that day. He looked sunbeaten and tired, resting his forearms on his knees. He looked up as soon as the front door opened and smiled like a child on Christmas when Logan stepped through. 

“Hey!” He climbed to his feet as if he’d been waiting for her, and wiped his sweaty palms on his backside. 

Logan gave him a small smile. “Hi.” She walked by him without another word, heading for her mailbox. 

A familiar click ran through her head and she turned back to look at Rodney who stood as still as a statue, watching her. He waved and she shuddered, quickly digging her keys from her bag. 

A second click hit her ears as she tugged the little door open. 

Logan reached inside and her hand landed on something velvety soft. She pulled her hand out and turned the head of a single red rose in her palm. She gasped and looked around confused, finding herself strangely alone. 

Rodney was gone.

Rose crushed in her fist, Logan walked to the small trash can by the door and dropped it inside. 

Two clicks echoed through the hall. 

…

Strange present aside, the evening went on like any other. She cooked a small meal, poured a glass of white wine, and ate in front of the T.V. while mindlessly watching another documentary on Netflix. 

She dozed on the sofa, head propped up on her hand, blue light flickering from the screen. As her eyes fell closed, a knock on the door jarred her awake. 

Barefeet raced to answer the knock but when she opened the door, Logan found a dark, empty hallway. She stuck her head out of the door and looked down to the left, then up to the right, but there was nothing but shut doors and ugly beige paint. 

“What the fu-”

As she went to close the door, she looked down and saw a single red rose head sitting next to a bottle of white wine on her welcome mat. Carefully, she picked up the gift and sucked in an anxious breath. It was the same wine she had inside. Same brand, year, everything. 

Again, she looked up and down the hall, but there was no one, nothing but darkness. 

She took the wine inside and set it down on the counter, staring at it. The rose crumbled in her hand and fell into the garbage. 

There was no way she was going to open the wine, but she felt bad throwing it away, so she tucked it into the cabinet above the refrigerator, out of sight but not out of mind. 

Logan lay awake most of the night, anxiously going over the gifts in her mind. They were creepy, to be sure, but not threatening in any way. She reasoned that they were probably from Rodney since he was always lingering around her; he was harmless, and a neighbor… How bad could a little crush be?

…

Friday morning saw her up bright and early yet with a few dark circles beneath her eyes. 

After struggling with concealer for ten minutes too long, she shuffled to the door and flipped off her lights. 

She sucked in a heavy, frightened breath before her foot even fell. There, on her doorstep, was another deep red rose head. Quickly, she scooped it up and tossed it into the kitchenette garbage, determined to ignore the unsolicited offerings. 

It was raining out and the big lobby windows were grayed with clouds and scattered with racing raindrops. Rodney stood by the door, staring out into the downpour. 

“They said it might rain today,” he said, looking back at Logan over his shoulder as she hit the bottom step. 

She inhaled deeply and nodded. “That they did.” 

“I hope you have an umbrella, it’s a long walk to the shop.” 

Her body tensed. How did he know where she worked? Maybe she’d told him in passing… 

“Yeah.” Logan pushed past him and opened the door, shoving her little pink umbrella outside first. “Well… have a good one.” She hit the button and the canopy opened up, stopping the rain for a moment. 

Rodney watched her walk away, eyes never leaving her body until she was swallowed up by the fog. “You too.” 

…

Friday evening, she almost skipped the mailbox, but habit found her walking towards them anyway. 

A symphony of unattached clicks followed each footstep and Logan bit down on her tongue to hold in a worried cry.

She pushed her key into the lock with a trembling hand and looked inside to find another red rose head and a stack of black and white photos. 

Tears sprang up as she pulled the pictures out. A dozen or so four by six snapshots looked up at her all bearing her face. 

There were shots of her in the lobby, shots of her getting the mail. Photos of her walking to work, one of her unlocking her front door. The last one was from that morning, and Logan stared at herself walking away from the apartment building with her umbrella clutched close. 

She dropped the rose at her feet; crushed the petals as she ran to the steps. 

Rodney was nowhere to be seen, but she could feel someone watching her, stalking her from the shadows. 

Three flights of stairs felt like thirty as she raced to her door, desperate to get out of the dimly lit halls and into her safe space. 

As she reached her floor, Logan skidded around the corner at the top of the stairs and smacked right into Rachel, her neighbor from 4J. 

“Whoa!” Rachel laughed, grabbing Logan by the shoulders to help steady her on her feet. “Are we on fire?” 

Logan stammered, blinking at her friend. “W-what?” 

“You’re running like the building’s on fire. You OK?”  

The photos crinkled in her grip and Logan looked down at them quickly before taking a step back and hiding the pictures at her side. 

“Uh… yeah. Fine. Sorry. I wasn’t looking where I was going.” 

Rachel squinted at her suspiciously but let it go. “That’s alright, hun. Just be careful.” She stepped around Logan and started down the steps. 

“Hey, Rach?”

“Yeah?” 

Logan chewed her lip for a moment, unsure of what to ask. “You know Rodney?”

Rachel’s foot bounced on the top step. “Rodney?” She scrunched up her nose and looked up at the ceiling, thinking. “No. I don’t know anyone named Rodney.” 

Logan’s chest ached. “He’s… uh… short, scrawny older guy… always hanging around the mailboxes.” 

Rachel clicked her tongue. “Yes! OK. I know that guy. Creepy as hell.” 

“Yeah. Him. What… Do you know what apartment he’s in?” 

Ruby lips pursed as Rachel shook her head. “Yeah, I don’t think he lives here, hun.” 

Logan’s stomach tensed. “What? He has to-”

“No. He’s just always hanging around. Super kicks him out every now and then but- yeah, he doesn’t actually live here. I don’t know where he lives.” 

Logan’s jaw dropped slightly and she stared off at the far wall. 

“Is he giving you problems? Because I can call the super and-” 

“No.” Logan held up a hand. “No, that’s OK. Thanks…”

Rachel went on speaking but Logan was lost in her head. She looked down at the photos and sorted through them again, brows furrowing as worry swept over her face. She waved absently when Rachel said goodbye; walked slowly down to her door. 

Sure, the roses were creepy and the photos were a little scary, but at least he hadn’t been inside her apartment. At least she was still safe inside.

Logan locked the door behind her and drew the metal chain across. She dropped the pictures on her coffee table and kicked off her perfect white sneakers before heading to the bedroom. 

She pulled her shirt off, balled it up, and tossed it into the hamper by the door. She dropped her hand to her jeans and froze as her eyes fell upon a single crimson rose head laying on her pillow. 

Lightning cracked through the darkness outside and Logan screamed as a thin, gloved hand wrapped around her face, covering her mouth and dragging her down into the shadows. 

…