Erotimaniac

Emiko hopped off of the bus. Hands stuffed in her coat pockets, she slowly

walked down the sidewalk. After the confrontation at the diner, she was

cautious of everyone and everything. She waited until the bus drove off,

then she approached her apartment building. She stopped on the porch, then

she glanced around the neighborhood.

Vehicles still trudged up-and-down the streets while pedestrians

wandered the sidewalks. The sun was falling beyond the horizon and

darkness would arrive within fifteen minutes. There were no suspicious

characters in sight, though. She didn't see any men sitting in parked cars or

hiding behind trees.

She nodded and whispered, "Everything's fine..."

Emiko sighed in relief, then she entered the building. She waved at the

manager, who was heading up to the third floor, then she approached her

door. As far as she was concerned, she reached the finish line – she was

safe. She entered her apartment, making sure to lock the door behind her.

She didn't forget the latch lock.

She planted her moist brow on the wall beside the door and sighed as she

took off her shoes. She wiggled her toes and moaned as she massaged her

feet. Serving customers for hours was a physically demanding job. She took

off her coat, revealing the gray long-sleeve shirt she wore underneath.

As she went to hang her jacket on the neighboring coat tree, Emiko

stopped moving. Wide-eyed, she vacantly stared at the wall in front of her.

The coat slipped out of her fingers and fell to the floor. Tears materialized

in her eyes, sweat glistened on her brow. She trembled uncontrollably as her

breathing intensified.

A sizzling sound emerged from the kitchen – but she lived alone.

Emiko glanced over at the kitchen. She swallowed the lump clogging her

throat and held her bag close to her chest, then she tiptoed forward. She

walked around the sofa and leaned towards her right. She stopped and

stared into the kitchen over the bar, shocked. She couldn't scream, she

couldn't run. The young waitress was paralyzed by her fear.

Ethan stood near the stove, cooking fish in a pan. He wore a white

button-up shirt, black trousers, and matching dress shoes. His hair was

straightened and combed to the right. His cologne, a mossy aroma, could be

smelled from the living room. He appeared relaxed, too. The confrontation

at the diner didn't seem to bother him.

In fact, the disturbed author even set the table before Emiko arrived. The

plates and eating utensils were neatly set at each side of the table. A

candelabra with three lit candles sat at the center of the table. It was a

romantic setting for an important night.

Surprised, Ethan hopped and gasped upon spotting Emiko in the living

room. He indistinctly muttered and chuckled, humiliated by his

melodramatic reaction. He lowered the heat on the stove, then he

approached the bar. At that moment, Emiko wished she had quietly walked

out of the apartment before he noticed her. She needed a new escape plan.

Ethan said, "Jeez, Emiko, you scared me. You should really try

announcing yourself when you get home. Anyway... I thought you'd be

home a little later. The food isn't ready, but I could fix up an appetizer or

a–"

"What are you doing in my apartment?" Emiko asked.

She clenched her jaw as she tried to stop herself from sobbing. She tried

to keep a semblance of control around the intruder. She couldn't allow him

to exploit her fears.

In a stern tone, Emiko asked, "What the hell are you doing in my

home?"

Ethan held his hands up in a peaceful gesture. He smiled and said, "I'm

just making dinner, you silly goose. Things didn't go so well at the diner

'cause of your stupid boss, but that doesn't mean the day has to end on a bad

note, right? We can still celebrate your birthday."

"I'm calling the cops."

With a concerned expression, Ethan walked to the archway and

responded, "The cops? Why? What's the matter?" Emiko reached into her

bag and stepped in reverse. As she searched for her cellphone, Ethan asked,

"What's wrong? Did someone follow you home?"

Upon hearing the questions, Emiko stopped riffling through her bag.

Eyes welling with tears, she glanced up at Ethan in utter awe. She could see

he was sincere. She realized the man was truly deranged.

Ethan approached the windows in the living room. He glided his eyes

across every inch of the street, searching for any potential stalkers.

He said, "This isn't a great neighborhood, sweetie. I mean, it's not the

worst you can do, but... I don't know, I just don't like you living here by

yourself. Perverts are everywhere these days. When the prisons get filled

up, the government lets those psychos out first. They think that they'll

actually follow directions – that they've been rehabilitated. They're not,

though. They cut their bracelets as soon as they're free. You have to be

careful around here, Emiko."

Emiko sobbed and stuttered, "You–You're scaring me..."

"What? I'm on your side, remember? I'm–"

As he spoke, Emiko pulled the phone out of her bag. She swiped her

finger across the screen as she ran around the coffee table. Her fingers

trembled as she tried to dial 911 while lurching towards the front door.

Before she could reach the exit, Ethan tackled her and pinned her to the

wall – pressing his body against hers. He plucked the phone out of her

clammy palm while covering her mouth with his other hand.

"Stop it," Ethan said, his face an inch away from hers. He said, "Don't

scream, don't fight. If you do, the bad people will hear you. That man that

was following you, he could be standing outside of your front door. He

could be listening to everything. Don't worry, though. I'll protect you. You

don't need the police, you only need me."

Ethan grimaced and gasped as Emiko bit his hand. Emiko kicked his

shin, but she couldn't hurt him because she wasn't wearing shoes. She

lurched towards the front door, but to no avail. Ethan tackled her again,

grabbing her legs and pulling her to the floor.

Emiko yelled, "Help! He–"

Ethan flipped her onto her back, then he straddled her stomach. He

covered her mouth with his hand, then he leaned closer to her face. He

could see the unadulterated fear in her eyes, but he didn't understand it.

What is she afraid of?–he thought.

Teary-eyed, Ethan said, "I'm not trying to hurt you. I've... I've just been

doing everything you told me to do. I did it because I... I love you. I love

you, Emiko." A tear dripped from Ethan's eye as he blinked, plunging onto

Emiko's cheek. He said, "I'm going to move my hand now. Okay? Don't

scream. Just... Just say: 'I love you, too, sweetie.' Okay?"

Ethan lifted his hand from Emiko's mouth. Emiko wheezed as she gazed

into Ethan's eyes. Letting him off easy didn't seem to work, so the blunt

truth was her only option.

She said, "I don't love you. I don't even remember your name. Please,

just leave me alone. Don't hurt me."

"Wha–What? N–No, you... you love me. You... You said so on the TV.

You remember that, don't you? You said you loved me. It's supposed to be a

secret, remember? I know you love me, Emiko. Just say it."

"No... I don't love you. You're crazy, mister. You're fucking crazy..."

Stunned by the rejection, Ethan shook his head and stuttered, "B–But, I

got your messages. Your messages, they were real..."

"Messages? I never sent you a thing..."

"Your messages," Ethan repeated.

Emiko clawed his face, digging her nails deep into his skin. Ethan leaned

back and placed his palm over the bloody cuts on his left cheek. Emiko

raised her hips and tried to toss the intruder off of her, but to no avail. So,

she tried to scratch his face again – she missed him by a fingernail.

As she slapped and scratched at his face, Emiko yelled, "Help! Please,

help me! There's someone in my apartment! Help!"

Infuriated, Ethan struck down at Emiko's brow with his elbow. His

elbow hit the side of her forehead, which caused the back of her head to

slam onto the floorboards. Dazed by the hit, her eyelids flickered and her

head swayed. He hit her again with his elbow, trying his damnedest to hit

the same place on her brow. The second blow knocked her unconscious.

He leaned back and dug his fingers into his hair as he stared at his loving

girlfriend. He was bothered by her rejection and angered by her yelling. He

glanced over at the door, then towards the ceiling – nothing. He didn't hear

a single footstep in the building.

He whispered, "I have to get you out of here, princess. This place is...

toxic. It's not good for you. That's why you're acting like this. You need to

come home." He leaned down and kissed her lips. He said, "Happy

birthday, darling."

Ethan grabbed her ankles and dragged her to the front door. He ran back

into the kitchen and turned off the stove, then he blew out the candles. He

grabbed his coat and bag, too. He couldn't afford to leave any evidence of

his presence in the apartment.

With all of his supplies, he returned to the front door and whispered,

"We have to work fast and we have to make it look natural, okay? Let's just,

um... act like you're drunk or something, okay? I know, I know, you're not

that type of girl. We need to do this, though. Come on."

Ethan lifted Emiko from the floor. Fortunately, the woman was small and

slim so she was easy to carry. He lifted her from her waist and tossed her

arm over his shoulder. He lugged her out of the apartment, her feet sliding

across the floor. There was no one around in the building to see them,

either. He safely absconded with her unconscious body.