Obscene obsession

I never thought much of myself - in fact, I'm more prone to finding things that I dislike about myself than I am to finding things I do like. My hair gets to frizzy, my arms are too hairy, my stomach is too fat, I'm not a genius or popular... In short, I tend to put myself down more than I raise myself up. I've been this way since childhood, probably at least in part because of how much importance my family puts on being "perfect." I have always fallen short of their expectations, which has only become more obvious over the years.

I guess that's why I was so surprised when I got to work one day and was told I had a card from an "admirer." I opened the envelope and was hit with a flood of confusion and excitement as I pulled out the card. I didn't recognize the handwriting inside, but the message sent butterflies flitting around my stomach and a look of bewilderment settled on my face for a moment.

"Your beauty surpasses that of a goddess. I can only hope to one day get to know you and your inner workings." I read the card a couple more times before putting it back in the envelope and putting the envelope into my bag. Who could possibly have written it? Where they a customer at the coffee shop I work at? Was he in one of my classes at the college? As sweet - and slightly creepy - the message was, it gave no indication of who it might be, which made the situation somewhat uncomfortable.

I left the card in a drawer in my coffee table in my living room and tried to forget about it. When I returned to work a few days later, though, Jessica - the same coworker who had handed me the first card - ran up to me just as I was walking in the door. She was shoving another couple of cards in my face and was excitedly asking me when I had started dating someone. She and I had known each other for years and she was the closest I had to a best friend. We told each other everything, so it made sense that she would be surprised that I didn't tell her something like that.

I wasn't dating anyone, though, and hadn't dated anyone since I'd left my ex two years ago. If I were, I certainly would have told Jessica, even if I didn't tell anyone else! I pulled her into the storage room with me and opened the card on top of the pile, Jessica standing anxiously beside me. She was so excited to know what the cards said that she was nearly ripping them out of my hand.

"I can't stop thinking about you. I look forward to the day I can call you my own!" I looked at Jessica, concern starting to overcome me. Without saying a word, I stuffed the card back into the envelope and opened the next one. "I was disappointed not to see you yesterday," it said. "Let's go out to dinner soon so that I can get to know you!" This card got stuffed back in its envelope, as well. I was about to throw the cards away when I made a last-minute decision to put them in my bag to put with the first card after my shift.

Every time the front door to the coffee shop opened over the next few days, I would look up to see whomever walked in seemed to be carrying a card. The first card was kind of sweet, but the second and third cards were rather uncomfortable. It was as if the author of the cards was infatuated - perhaps bordering on obsessed - with me. I was on edge for weeks, but never saw someone come in with a card.

One day, I was working a split shift and shortly before I finished the first part of my shift, a customer came in. He was tall, somewhat muscular, and very well dressed. He was attractive, but there was something about him that bothered me. I couldn't place my finger on what it was, but it was definitely there.

Almost as soon as I came back for the second part of my shift, Jessica handed me another card. This time, I actually thought to ask who had left it. The person she described was eerily similar to that of the person I'd served earlier in the day. I told her I was pretty sure I'd served him earlier in the day and she suggested we look through the feeds from the security cameras. I pulled Claire, the manager, aside when she popped in later that evening and she let Jessica and I review the cameras with her after the three of us closed the shop.

As we watched the videos, we finally saw where I left from the first part of my shift and waited to see how long it took for the card to be delivered. About 5 minutes after I had walked out the door, one of the security cameras recorded my car leaving the parking lot. Another camera, which was mostly focused on the small dining area of the coffee shop, showed what looked like someone watching my car leave the lot before approaching the counter and, instead of ordering anything, handing Jessica an envelope with my name on it. It was the same muscular, well-dressed guy I'd helped earlier in the shift.

With the shop closed and Jessica and Claire in the office with me, I opened the most recent card and read it. "When I get you alone/Your mind will be blown/By all of the ways/I'll make you moan." I went into shock, dropping the card on the floor.

For a brief moment, the world went silent. It wasn't until my brain started processing sounds again that I realized that I had unintentionally started yelling. Jessica wrapped her arms around me, trying to comfort me, but it didn't do much good. I eventually calmed down after sitting there for a little while and was able to start processing the situation a little more easily.

When the three of us left, Jessica gave me a ride home. We took a long, roundabout way to get to my place, though. Partly, we wanted a chance to just talk and relax, maybe listen to some really loud music and belt the lyrics as loud as we could. When we eventually pulled up to my apartment building, though, I immediately started singing along to whatever song was on the radio. There was a man sitting on the front steps of the building and, although it was dark out by then, I knew it was the same guy from the coffee shop - the well-dressed, muscular guy who had handed Jessica the card.

We sped off, going straight to the police station. We told them what had been going on, but they said they couldn't do anything without proof. They said that even with evidence that he was stalking me, though, they would be pretty limited in what they could actually do if he didn't escalate to the point of actually harming me. We asked for an escort back to my apartment in case he was still there and, although hesitant, the police eventually agreed.

When we got back to my building, the guy who had been obsessing over me was nowhere to be seen. I got out of the car and, after looking back at Jessica, went inside and climbed the stairs to my apartment. I unlocked my door and, before I knew what was happening, I was being pushed through the door frame and onto the couch. I looked up to see who my unwelcome guest was and found myself staring into the eyes of the guy who had been leaving cards with my coworkers.

I tried frantically to push him off, but he was too strong. He grabbed my wrists and held them in one hand as he hit me repeatedly with the other hand. I kept trying to fight him off, but he kept hitting me until I was nearly unconscious. When he finally released my wrists and got off of me, I was moaning unintelligibly, trying to call out for help. The last thing I saw before I succumbed to my injuries was the man laying a card on my stomach and walking out of my apartment, leaving the door wide open.