It was just last week when I, a female in my mid-20s,
finished my evening shift at the local hospital.
As the clock struck 8 pm,
I decided to walk home,
enjoying the remaining daylight.
With music playing in my ears, I strolled along, lost in my thoughts.
As I approached a bridge over the motorway,
flanked by small wooded areas, an unsettling feeling crept over me.
I paused my music, scanning my surroundings, but everything appeared normal.
Trying to dismiss my unease as paranoia, I continued my walk, keeping my music off.
Suddenly, I heard rustling behind me and swiftly turned around,
only to find nothing out of the ordinary.
My heart raced, but I convinced myself it was all in my head.
Reaching the top of the bridge, I felt relieved as I entered the open space, able to see my surroundings clearly.
As I neared my home, laughter filled my lips, mocking my earlier paranoia.
I felt relaxed and at ease, music playing once again.
Reaching the park opposite my road, I felt a surge of excitement knowing I was almost home.
Little did I know, my sense of security was about to shatter.
Without any warning or premonition,
I glanced behind me and locked eyes with a man standing just three feet away.
His tall, skinny frame was adorned in all black,
his greasy black hair framing a face devoid of life.
The deadness in his eyes sent shivers down my spine.
Startled, I quickly turned away and increased my pace,
hoping my fears were unfounded.
Yet, the eerie man persisted, following me closely, though not as near as before.
Every time I dared to look back,
his emotionless gaze remained fixed upon me, a chilling emptiness in his eyes.
Fear overwhelmed me, and while the thought of seeking refuge elsewhere crossed my mind,
terror rendered me frozen.
Desperate to reach the safety of my house, I contemplated calling the police but feared slowing myself down.
Doubts plagued my mind, questioning if I misread the situation.
The relentless stalker continued his pursuit, his pace quickening,
while I grew increasingly terrified.
Finally, my house came into view,
and I made a split-second decision to sprint for it,
a choice I should have made sooner.
Glancing back one last time, I saw him walking fast,
his eyes still fixed on me.
I fumbled with my keys, aware that the creeper could catch up at any moment.
With trembling hands, I managed to lock the door behind me, seeking refuge inside.
I raced upstairs, my heart pounding furiously.
From a window, I surveyed the front garden,
but the man had vanished.
Shaken to the core, I retrieved my phone,
intending to call the non-emergency police number.
As I entered the living room, however, I was confronted by his face pressed against the glass,
peering into my sanctuary.
Our eyes met, and his dead gaze sent a scream erupting from my throat.
Retreating back upstairs, I dialed the emergency number, summoning the police.
Meanwhile, the intruder calmly sat cross-legged in my garden,
a haunting figure fixated on my house.
Within minutes, the police arrived and apprehended him without resistance.
An officer approached me,
revealing that the man was a patient from the psychiatric ward of my hospital.
It seemed he had developed an unsettling fascination with me after observing me during my duties.
My colleagues in the Psychiatry unit mentioned his recent mentions of a girlfriend, suspecting it was me.
Thankfully, he has been relocated to another hospital, where he can receive the care he needs.
I hope he no longer poses a threat to the hospital staff.
While I wish for his recovery,
it is difficult to extend well wishes to someone who terrified me to such an extent.
From now on,
I will opt for the safety of the bus when commuting.
The incident serves as a stark reminder of the potential dangers lurking in unexpected places,
even within the walls
of a seemingly secure hospital.
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