The Follower

Sarah didn’t feel right. She was suddenly aware of the quietness surrounding her when all she could hear was heavy breathing coming from her dry mouth. Her eyes darted around but nothing was there. Maybe it was all in her head again, she thought. But there it was: the familiar sound of footsteps coming towards her. She froze in horror because she knew that sound all too well, and the only thing she could do now was run. Again.  

Tears streamed down her cheeks and her heart raced, propelling blood around her fragile body as fear engulfed her like a burning flame on an oil slick, bellowing out a piercing scream from the bottom of her stomach deafening anything within reach. 

“Not again, please!” she begged as she ran for her life. 

It was no good though, he was right behind her. She could smell his aftershave mixed with the stale scent of cigarette smoke embedded into his unwashed denim jacket. That smell…she knew what was coming.  

Sobbing as she tried to run for her life, Sarah lost control and fell to the floor. She tried to stand up but her legs had turned into a mangled mess. 

“NO!” she screamed “GOD NO!” 

And then it happened. She felt him over her pinning her down with force as she tried desperately to push him away, kicking her legs into him.  

“NO!” she screamed again. 

“Calm down, Sarah” said a stern male voice.  

“NO!” she shouted “Get your hands off me!” 

Sarah was determined he wouldn’t hurt her again.  

Let go of me! Stop! Somebody HELP ME!” she screeched. But there was nobody.  

“Calm. Down. Sarah” he said again.  

This time she had no chance when two more men surrounded her, all three of them fighting to hold her down. 

“NO!” 

Biting the hand of one of the men, she frantically tried to save herself but she knew she had no chance. Squirming hysterically, she could hear the men talking to each other but nothing made sense. All of a sudden she felt the scratch of a needle on her arm and cold liquid enter her bloodstream.  

“What the hell are you doing to me?” She yelled 

“Sarah, stop shouting!” said one of the men.

She gasped as her battle slowly began to alleviate, taming her panic. The struggle eased and she felt heavy, like a weight falling to the bottom of the ocean. Her pupils were dilated and breathing slowed, calming her back into a controlled state. She felt beads of sweat run down her face as she lay there powerless, unable to move or make a sound. She was paralysed.  

Lying on the floor she stared nonchalantly into the distance as the three figures looked down at her before walking away, shutting the heavy door behind them. She felt cold and alone as her eye lids intermittently closed.  

The men watched her through the Perspex window of the room she was in waiting for her to pass out. Seeing her limp body relax and drift into temporary unconsciousness, they knew it was safe to go back in.  

“15.37 19^th September 2013” came from one of the trio. “The sixth fit she’s had in two days.” 

“Poor kid” said another voice as he gently put a blanket over her. “We’re going to need to reassess her medication and keep her in refinement longer than we thought.” 

“Alex the girl doesn’t stand a chance; look at the state of her. She’s never going to leave this place, we all know that.” 

Silence fell amongst the men who had been trying for so long to help her. They wanted so desperately to give her the life she deserved, but too much damage had been done. As they walked out of Sarah’s room again, the third man turned around and looked at her once more, his heart sinking to the bottom of his stomach.  

Somewhere, deep within her unconsciousness Sarah heard the jingle jangle of keys locking her in and the bolt slam shut, securing the door. Calm had resurfaced but the tears still fell. Five years she had been kept hostage in here. Five years. They were never going to leave her alone. 

“Next time I’ll be ready” she thought.