8. He Stalks Me

[The first time I was ever stalked- at least to my knowledge of- was on my second visit to Paris. I had gone once with the family before Daddy died, and another time since starting Masters. It was that time I realized I was being followed.

I'll never forget it. The first time it happens to you, it's the most frightening thing in the world. I don't think words can do it justice. But now I know what a mouse or deer must feel like, being stalked by a predator. You know something out there wants you, and is eyeing you, surveying your every movement. But you also know that their intentions with you are completely sinister; it would bring you nothing but pain and them pleasure. That's what's so terrifying about it, I believe. Just knowing that this person wants you for all the wrong reasons. It's the most selfish act in the world, and at the time, I couldn't imagine I more horrifying situation.

Strange as it might sound though- and perhaps this is horrible in its own right- you get oddly used to it. I was trailed at least three times my first weekend in Brussels. Everyone I met in Europe told me it would happen; they said to watch out. Initially I didn't believe them- I thought that Paris incident was a one-off case. Oh, boy; how I was wrong.

Now getting stalked is par for the course. At first it was pure terror coursing through my veins; now it's just "I'm trying to eat my waffle. Can't I have a moment of peace?". How do you know someone is stalking you, you might wonder? It's painfully easy to tell. These people- always men in my case- literally follow you wherever you go. Sometimes they're ten or so feet behind you; other times they're right on your heels. I developed a test which always works for me. If you cross a street three times and they cross that exact same street at the exact same light, you're being stalked. Now if I see someone's following me, I just make a run for it. You see girls running all the time in major cities on the continent. It's quite sad actually.

And before you ask why I don't inform a police officer, these people are really smart. I'm not their first victim and I won't be their last; they know what they are doing. By the time you find a police officer or wait for them to show up, the stalker is long gone. Most wear sunglasses, plain clothes with no markers, and even sometimes masks so you can't pick them out easily. It's too simple for them to disappear back into the crowds and find some poor other girl to make their target. When I'm stalked now, all I do is try to get away as fast as possible and carry about my day. Again, I know it's horrible, but you really do get used to it.

I'd never been stalked in England before; or again, that I'm aware of. English men are very tame considering all things. I would never walk around Brussels or Paris after dark, but don't feel unsafe here at all. That being said, I'm still careful; Anthony would freak out if I wasn't. Which is why I'd never told him about my stalking incidences either- he'd have me on a plane back home so fast, it'd make your head spin. So in that regard, coming back to London was a little bit of a breather for me. Plus, I doubted English stalkers could be as stealthy as the men I've had to deal with.]

"Didn't we just go to a social? Couldn't we jump back into the car before anyone sees us and skip this one?" "No. Come on, baby sis. You're only back for a little while. You can at least spend some time with your big brother." "We can spend time together at home!" "Yes, but we were invited and it would be bad form not to show up tonight. Now I expect you to put on a smile and act happy to be here," Anthony gave my arm a squeeze. I groaned, rolling my eyes. "Fiiiiiiiine, but please; let this be the last one this week. Let's watch a movie or something this weekend." "Deal," he nodded. "Yeah, I'd be good with staying home too," Benedict, who was at my right, added. "Don't you start!" The eldest scolded.

It was just me, Anthony, and Benedict going out this evening. Things had still been weird between Colin, Eloise, and I since dinner the other night. You could sense this real divide starting to form in the family, which placed me and Anthony on one side, Colin and Eloise on the other, and the other four siblings caught in the middle. Though I considered Benedict on Eloise's side since they were very close, despite him being on civil terms with me.

Both my brothers had me on their arms when we entered. There were no formal announcements tonight so we were free to go in together. I was sandwiched in between them like a piece of deli meat- what a flattering analogy. My immediate thought was to the buffet table with all the yummies it bestowed. But Anthony maintained firm hold of my arm, forcing me to mingle alongside him and our brother. There was some chit chat and then the dancing began.

I don't know why I was a little surprised to see Simon there. I mean, course a duke would come to these events. Still, it caught me a little off guard. We made eye contact before the light show, but by the time it was over, he was gone. Probably left to get some fresh air or something. Speaking of fresh air…..

About halfway through the party, after dancing with both my brothers- and only my brothers- I approached Anthony who was taking a break off to the side. He smiled upon my arrival, greeting me with a relax, casual posture. "Well hello, baby sister. What's up?" "I feel a little lightheaded," I told him honestly. His grin began to fade. "You do? Have you been drinking water? Did you eat enough?" "Yes, yes; I'm fine. I'm just really hot. I'm going to step out for a minute to cool down." "Well I'll come with you." I shook my head. "No, that's fine. I'll be right back; just need a minute. I'll go out the back door." "Alright but don't go far. Stay where it's well-lit, and take your water bottle out with you." Daddy had gotten me this pink flowery stainless-steel water bottle some years back. That thing is as tough as nails and looks just as good as the day he gave it to me. "Alright," I picked it up off the table I'd been housing it and left for the back exit.

It was fairly quiet out here; quiet and dark- a lot darker than I thought it'd be. Seeing as there was nothing really else to do out here, I merely strolled out, sipping from my water bottle from time to time. Part of my condition meant that I get cold or hot really easily; my body doesn't have a good internal thermometer. It's the worst with the cold, but heat is also bad for it. Being outside did help but I had to be mindful not to get too cold, cause it would take me forever to heat back up again. I took a large gulp of water and rounded the corner of this oversized hedge. I was feeling better now so I began to sway playfully, doing the odd twirl. It felt nice to be outdoors without constantly have to be aware of my surroundings.

However that was too optimistic on my part.

For some reason, I was hit with that inexplicable feeling of being watched again. You know, the one I was so accustomed to now. It was my first time sensing it in London, but it was there. My heart began pounding and I suddenly felt uneasy. Strange, I felt more scared this time than the last few occasions I was stalked. Maybe that's because I knew the environment and how to escape easily. This was a foreign setting to me and besides, everyone here was of high-standing class. So that must mean whoever's following me is…

My breathing intensified. I looked all around but saw no one, yet I knew someone was there. He was close, and he was watching me… My heels spun around one more time to try and find any sort of clue, and that's when my suspicions were confirmed. The English aren't that stealthy with their stalking.

None other than Nigel Berbrooke appeared with two cups of something in his hands. He flashed me that stupid, toothy grin of his. "Nigel," I let out a half-relieved sigh; only half, mind you. He's definitely not the scariest person who's ever trailed me before. "I've been looking for you everywhere. Whatever are you doing out here?" "I uh… I came out for some air. What are you doing out here?" "Oh, I came to see you. Here you are- a nice glass of cold punch, sans the alcohol," he held out one of the glasses for me. I looked at it, then shook my head lightly.

"No, thank you." His ugly smile did everything not to fade. "It's just punch." "I don't accept drinks from men I don't know well," I explained, hoping he'd get the point, which he did but not in the way I'd like. That's when his grin finally did sour. His hands holding the cups lowered a little.

"Oh…. Oh, I see." "It's nothing personal. Just a rule I have for myself." "Something you picked up on the mainland, is it?" His tone just now… This insulted frown graced my mouth. "What?" Was my only response. His head shook, looking downwards a bit. "I should have known. All girls turn into partiers when they go aboard for school." "I assure you that's not what's going on," my frown grew. This little…! He's calling my character into question, and he doesn't even know me! And he probably thinks he's a "nice guy", to put it mildly.

I tensed up a little when his foot slid towards me. "Tell me, "Miss Bridgerton". Does your brother know about your little escapades?" "What escapades? I've never been to a club out there. Do you know how unsafe that would be for someone like me?" "Then where did you learn about… To think you would even consider I would something like….." His sentence stop and he gave me a look I'll never forget.

"You're clearly not as innocent as you let on, Miss Bridgerton."

With an expression of horror and disgust, I instantly spun around to march away. Too bad Mr. Creepo over here wasn't have any of it. "What? Did I strike a nerve just now? It's not nice to hear the truth, is it?" "Get away from me." "Why? I'm not as handsome as all those Brussel boys? Can't complete with them, can I?" "I said leave me alone!" My feet walked faster. So did his. My heart skipped a scared beat when I heard him suddenly run up behind me. He was standing so close I could feel his breath on the back of my neck. "See? You can't outrun me. You can barely run at all, with your, heh condition." "Get away, Nigel….." I gasped now very, very afraid. "If we were in Europe, you'd let me in this close, wouldn't you?" "Don't touch me." "Touch you? Oh, I'm going to do more than just…." He grabbed my wrist, forcing me to spin back around facing him. He had the absolute sickest, appalling flush of desire in his eyes; it made me want to vomit. His one hand held my wrist firm while the other, which dropped the glass of punch it was holding onto the ground, began to lift up. I winced my eyes shut, trembling in fear.

No one had ever touched me against my will before. Sure, many men stalked me, but never got close enough to actually touch me. It hurt, with how much pressure he was applying. And his hand on me was a floodgate opening; it was like a combination of all the men who have ever chased me, ogled me with lust in their eyes before. I was sick- he made me physically ill, which comminated with his reaching up to grab my left breast. What happened next was purely reactional on my part. I didn't want the first man to ever touch my chest to be Nigel; it wasn't going to happen if I had anything to say about it.

Without forewarning my pink solid water bottle raised up above us. "I said don't touch me!" Yelling this, the bottle came for a full swing against his right eye. Nigel cried out in pain, instantly releasing me. He stumbled backward, bringing both hands up to his now bruised eye. I breathed deeply a couple of times, trying to get a hold of myself. Then, the usual panic flight or fight mode kicked in. I wasn't afraid of getting into trouble; I was afraid of Nigel trying to fondle me again. My feet took off in the direction opposite the party into the darkness. I ran so fast that I failed to notice the duke's stunned arrival or him calling out my name as I vanished into the darkness. All I could think about was running- running and getting away from the danger which threatened me.