EroticReverie

Anastasia

“We should do this again sometime.” He smirks as he stands right outside my apartment door as I slip in the key. 

I look at him , shaking my head. 

“No. We fucking shouldn’t.” I bite out and he smiles at me. 

“Make sure you eat dinner.” He says and I roll my eyes and turn the key in the lock and then turning the knob and stepping inside and turning to face him and closing the door but his hand stops it and I huff and look up at him. 

“If you don’t eat. My promises will be null and void Little Ballerina” he warns and I grit my teeth. 

“I’ll eat when I’m hungry” I scowl at him. 

“You’ll eat when you’re told to. And you’ll eat enough food. I won’t let you ruin your beautiful body.” He says and looks me up and down. 

“I’m a ballerina. I have to stay skin-“

“Don’t you dare.” He growls at me. 

“Youre perfect as is. This starving yourself bullshit , it stops now. Do you fucking hear me?” He growls and I can’t help the slight way I cower even while trying to keep my chin high to him. 

“I want you back to your normal weight. I know what that fucker said to you Anastasia and it’s simply not fucking true.” He says and I grit my teeth. Because how could a man rape me and stalk and somehow still care about me in his own fucked up way? 

“How do you even know what he said-“ I hold up a hand and then shake my head. “You know what, never mind, I forgot, you’re a psycho.” I say and he smirks slightly. 

“Eat dinner tonight Anastasia.” He warns and I glare at him. 

“Whatever. Just Leave me the fuck alone.” I say and step back and slam the door. 

————

Later that night as I sit in the small kitchen area, I eat. My eyes roaming the kitchen and looking for any single fucking place that could hide a camera. I even look for little microscopic pinholes in the wall. How the fuck did he know everything? How the hell did he know what I ate or didn’t eat. How did he know what Miles had said to me? 

I look at my plate,  my insecurities fighting against the warning I was given by my psycho stalker. Saint. His name is Saint. How fucking ironic. That man was no saint. He was the fucking devil. 

I eat a little more than half of the vegetables and grilled chicken I made for myself using some of Alisa’s food. I’d have to go out after this and buy replacements for what I’d used. 

She was staying the weekend at her boyfriend’s place in New Jersey, so I had tonight and tomorrow to replace it. 

I look at the remaining pieces of food. I wasn’t full. But I wasn’t hungry. And I wonder if he’s watching me right now. God damnit. I curse under my breath as I force myself to finish my plate. Not wanting to risk him going back on his promises of not hurting Alisa and to stop leaving partially incriminating fucking letters in my bedroom.

After I’m done eating , I leave the apartment and go shopping at the grocery store , buying food to make up for what I used, along with extra food for myself. 

When I return to my apartment I groan at the black envelope taped to my fucking door. 

Across the front in gold marker is no longer “Little Ballerina” but instead now just my name. 

I sigh and rip the envelope off the door and slide my key into the door and step inside. I do my normal check of all the rooms to make sure he’s not here. Even though I know somehow he is here. Somehow watching me. But he’s not physically here. 

I put away the groceries and go to my room with my phone and enevelope. I toss both on the bed and take down my hair and massage my scalp. Deciding I want a shower, a bath. Something to fucking relax. 

I strip off my clothes. My body all too aware that somehow , he’s watching me right now. That tall , blue eyed , dark haired psycho is watching me undress. Probably with his dick in his fucking hand 

“God damn pervert” I mutter as I kick my clothes to the side of the room and walk naked out of my room and into the bathroom. 

I shower , washing my hair , shaving and then turning off the shower and turning on the tub.

I select a playlist on my phone. Throw in my ear buds and slide into the tub. Music from the nutcracker plays as I imagine all the moves, I hum as I imagine my body going through the movements , one hand lifting off the edge of the tub and hold it out. 

A sudden chill runs through me even though I’m in hot water. My eyes flying open and I sit up , pulling my earbuds out. Listening. 

“Hello?” I call. 

I could sense him. Or someone. 

“Alisa?” I call out. Swallowing. 

I take a slow deep breath and close my eyes. I open them again. 

“Saint?” I call out. Hating that I’m calling for my god damn stalker like he’s just a roommate.  Knowing his name was a bad idea. It had made him more than just a stalker. He’d let me know his name. And I’m sure it was all part of his plan. To humanize himself as something other than “psycho”.

“Saint?” I call again. Because I know it’s not Alisa. 

My bath is ruined now. Because even if he’s not here. My nerves are fucking shot. I stand up out of the tub and drain it. Wrapping a towel around me and walking to the door and opening it slowly. 

“I know you’re here asshole!” I call out. 

Nothing. No response. 

“Saint , seriously!” I call out. 

Still nothing. 

I huff and decide I’m braver than I really am and throw open the door and search the apartment. Check the door. The windows. Nothing. 

I growl and tears fill my eyes. He was here. I know he was. And even if I knew his name now, even if he’d fed me lunch and demanded I take care of myself. It didn’t make the fact I knew he was watching me and toying with me any easier. He’d said he wouldn’t kill me. But how can I trust the word of a fucking psychopath? Even if the promises he made me might truly be kept. The fact I was putting trust in my god damn stalker was absolutely fucking nuts.