Bounty Hunter

Zinnia

My feet trembled as I mounted the stairs, and headed for my floor. The message from my stalker had been swirling in my brain all through the journey from the club to my apartment block, so much so that the Uber driver had to yell out to take me off my trance.

I paid and got out of the car, and almost passed out. Overthinking had only earned me a splitting headache, and it didn’t help that I was going to be alone in my apartment.

As I pierced my key into the doorknob, I dialled 911 before turning the key, that way, if there was someone in my apartment, I’ll quickly hit the call button.

I pushed the door open and I visibly sighed when I was met with an empty apartment. I paused on the threshold, inspecting my apartment and I only walked in with my heart pounding when I was certain nothing looked out of place.

I was scared to walk into my room. I wondered if the so-called surprise would be my stalker waiting for me in there with a gun, ready to kill me. But when I stood in the living room and spotted a box laying next to my bed, I frowned.

Had he bought another set of lingerie again? Great, this way, I’ll add to what he sent yesterday and burn it all together.

Each step I took toward my bedroom door matched the beating of my heart. I picked up the carton and visibly sighed at its weightlessness. And I refrained from laughing at my stupidity.

Carefully, I sat on my bed. I opened the box, hoping to find lingerie or something, anything his perverted mind could think of.

Nothing on the planet Earth could have prepared me for the dried-up hand carefully wrapped in white paper in the box.All text © NôvelD(r)a'ma.Org.

I screamed at the top of my lungs, skipping out of my bed like it suddenly had some deadly disease. With trembling hands, I picked up my phone and hit the dial button for the 911 I’d composed earlier.

“911, how may I help you” the voice of a lady came from the other end.

“Hello? There’s a hand in my house. There’s someone’s hand in my house,” I screamed into the phone. My voice and my body trembled as I spoke.

“Ma’am, I need you to calm down”

“Don’t tell me to calm down. There’s a bloody hand in my house. Someone sent me a hand in a box” I yelled again.

“Okay, ma’am. We need your address and we’ll be on our way shortly” I barely managed to voice out my address. The call disconnected and the silence in my room re-emerged.

Still holding my phone in my hand, I felt it vibrate. I knew it was him. This time, I was quick to open the message.

‘You called the police, little flower. Shouldn’t have done that’

I scoffed in disbelief, clearly, he hadn’t expected me to just let this one slide. I did yesterday with the lingerie, but not with this. On what planet was sending someone’s hand considered a gift? But more importantly, whose hand is it?

With a frown on my face, my hands flew across my keypad.

‘You sick psycho! I don’t know who you are or what you want, but I’ll make sure to have you locked up’. I hit the same button. A reply came in almost immediately.

‘Will you?’

Blood rushed through my veins, rage building up with each second I spent bamboozled by his message. The asshole was mocking my threats, making it seem like all my efforts were no good. Like he was immune to the repercussions of his acts.

I dumped my phone on the bed and walked into the living room. I curled up on my couch. I refused to touch the box until the cops showed up.

Minutes, perhaps hours passed and I began to wonder if the cops were ever going to show up. I began to wonder if that sick psycho had all right to laugh at my attempts to have him locked up.

The loud banging on the door sent fear throughout my body and had my headshot in that direction.

“911, open up!” the sound of a male voice was followed by yet another banging on the door. Feeling a little reassured, I rushed to open the door.

The cop, a man probably in his mid-forties walked in. I frowned, wondering why just one person had shown up. Did they mistake my phone call for a bluff? Well, he was in for one hell of a shock.

“Hi ma’am, I’m Officer George. What seems to be the problem?” the officer stood next to my kitchen counter and took out a notepad from the chest pocket of his uniform.

“There’s a hand in a box in my room. I am being stalked” I explained.

The office shot me a questioning stare. “A hand you say, in a box.” He questioned and when I nodded, he scribbled the information on the notepad.

“You don’t seem to believe me, it’s best I show you” I added and began to walk toward my bedroom.

“Please, lead the way.” Although I was ahead, I rolled my eyes at his sarcasm. I pushed open the door to the bedroom for him and stood on the threshold, waiting on him to walk in first.

“So, what exactly am I supposed to be looking at?”

I frowned. “What do you mean?” I walked in and was left speechless. My bed was perfectly made up with not a single thing out of place. There was no sight of any box.

“What? There was a box right here with someone’s hand in it.” I murmured in confusion, trying to make sense of what was happening.

“Ma’am, you must have been mistaken. There’s no box here,” the cop uttered. I could sense the irritation in his voice.

“I know what I saw. Someone sent me a box with a hand in it. I know what I saw,” I convinced. The cop folded his arms, giving me an exasperated look.

“Don’t give me that look. I know what I saw. He’s been sending me messages. He sent me lingerie yesterday”

“Oh, lingerie? Ma’am, are you sure those weren’t sent by your boyfriend or some lover of yours?”

“Of course not! The messages.” Seeing as my explanations did nothing to convince him, I figured showing him the messages from that creep would do the trick. I rushed into the living room and grabbed hold of my phone. My fingers flew across the lit screen, searching for our chat.

Nothing. There were no chats.

“What?” I was perplexed. I couldn’t comprehend what was going on. First with the boxes and now with the chats. The cop stood next to me.

“Officer, I swear, he’s been sending me creepy messages since yesterday, yet for some reason..”

“Ma’am, why don’t you get some rest? I’m sure you must be tired and it’s making you hallucinate.”

“Officer, I know what I saw” I convinced

“I’m sure you do. I’m sure you do.” The officer gave a light pat on my shoulder and began to head for the door.

“Have a good night ma’am,” before I could protest further, the officer walked out and closed the door behind him, leaving my confused mind racing.

I stood in the middle of my living room, taking in my surroundings. Was I dreaming? Had I, in fact hallucinated the text messages and the box? Only one way to find out.

I rushed back into my room, straight for where I kept the lingerie he sent yesterday. And when I couldn’t find it, I convinced myself I was going crazy.

My phone dinged and I quickly checked the message.

Unknown: How did you like my gift?

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