You Left Your House

You wrap the coat around your shoulders, locking the world from your apartment, but I know a way in. You check your phone. If only I could tell what you were looking at. You head down the road. I follow slowly behind you, but not creepily close. You stop at a fox eating chips, but you're gone within a second. The fox is watching me like I'm the insane one.

I bring out my phone and find you and text. You left your house I hang back. I feel you looking through the fence. I feel a tingle of adrenaline as you may see me through the hedges. I walk around the corner to see you now have headphones over your ears. I know you hate the world, and that is your escape. Don't worry I will always protect you

I wrap the coat around my shoulders and lock the door, shoving the key deep into my pocket. I take out my phone—20% charge. The clock ticks over 1:30 AM. I head down the road, looking at the stars. I see a fox eating the chips that have been thrown to the ground. He looks up and continues to eat. I carry on the walk, hoping to clear my head.

A ding pops up on my phone. You left your house Unknown. I look around for any sign of movement, but only the breeze moves the branches on the bush. I put my headphones over my ears, no human or audiobook, being aware but not looking aware. I carry on down the path. If I'm stabbed, I put pressure on the wound. If the knife is still in, don’t take it out, and we will just walk to the hospital—it’s only a mile. If they touch me, I’ll elbow them and wait till they are on the ground to run. If they continue to follow me, I’ll head to the pub and pretend to know someone. If they hold a gun at me, I’ll obey until I can fight back.

I walk down the road till I see people walking back from nights out. I pull my phone out—another message. You're alone I spin, looking for any person on their phone, but they are probably getting an Uber rather than messaging me. Two drunk people stagger in front of me, blocking my quick exit. My phone lights up.Hello?? I get on the grass, trying not to slip. I walk up a snicket and stop, look at the messages staring at me. You left your house, You're alone.

I look at the numbers but can’t think of a single person who would text me like this. I stare at the screen, waiting for a message.You'll be home soon I look at the flats around me, all in darkness. Did I lock my door? I race through the alley, trying not to trip on the uneven concrete. I reach my door. I wrap the coat around my shoulders and pull the key deep out of my pocket. I take out my phone—5% charge. The clock ticks over 2:30 AM.