I hear someone banging on my door. I look out of my kitchen window, where I see the main door from outside.

"Hey!" I shout

"Amm hi," he says, smiling.

I make a disgusting face and look at him up and down.

"Who sent you?" I ask. "If it was Ivan, I already gave him this month's payment, so leave me alone."

"No, we weren't sent by him."

"Then who?" I ask.

"We need to talk to you," one of them said.

"No." I shake my head.

"What, why? I just need to know—is your name Azalea?" he asks.

I look at him and then hold onto the baseball bat.

"I have bruises on my legs; if you won't leave in Three seconds, I will call the cops and say that you're trying to rape me," I say, and their eyes go wide.

"What no"

"One," I started counting.

"We just want to talk."

"Two"

"You're our sister." I look at the one who said that.

"Do you really have nothing better to say?" I ask.

"It's the truth; just let us explain."

"No"

"But why"

"Why should I let a bunch of men inside my house?"

"We won't harm you, I swear."

"Yeah, last time I heard that, I was kidnapped about a month ago."

"Why am I even having this conversation with you? I'm calling the cops."

"Okay, okay, we will leave."

They left, but I didn't step out of the house the whole day.

But unfortunately, I had to go to work the next day. I walk to work and feel like someone is watching me.

Okay, listen

When I said that, I meant someone was actually watching. I grew up in an atmosphere where I always had to be careful. I can recognize a person by their footsteps, smell, and body language.

It's nothing special; I just needed to learn all that while being a kid so I wouldn't make the same mistakes and would literally sense if someone was mad because if I didn't know all that, I wouldn't be alive right now.

That's why when I say someone is stalking me, I mean it.

I started my shift, and the whole time I felt someone's gaze on me.

It makes me remember old times, when I was being stalked in order to get kidnapped.

7-hour shift last, I walk home, take a small piece of paper, and write

~ I know it's you guys from before; stop stalking me. If talking to me will make you do that, I will do it. ~

I go inside the house and wait. The idea of someone stalking me is making me so uncomfortable that I would rather talk to them and get it over with.

There's nothing they can do to me that I haven't already been through.

After a while, I hear a knock.

"Come in, I shout, and the door opens.