Natural light filtered through the blinds and cast long shadows upon the opposite wall. I observed the shadow play that nature had decided to put on today. The wind blew serenely, gently swaying the trees and their leaves. I had become entranced by the way in which they became figures, moving almost rhythmically. The performance grew more grand as the wind swelled to a fierce gale. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, opening them again to see that the silhouette of trees that were present on the walls stopped moving and had become motionless. Soon, the arboreal dancers bowed, and the clouds rolled over like curtains as they left the stage.

I was jolted out of my trance by a loud beep. The alarm clock. It was eleven o'clock, almost noon. I glanced around the room and saw the tablets of my Risperdal spewed about my nightstand. I knew I couldn’t avoid my responsibilities by pretending to ignore them. I should get up out of bed. Take a shower. Get dressed.. I stiffly rose to my feet and peered at the gaping bathroom door. Woah, too fast there buddy. I immediately laid back down, half of my body sprawled across the sheets. I thought about the side effects of taking Risperdal that the doctor had told me about, and I burst into maniacal laughter at the notion. I don’t know why I still take those anyways. I’ve recovered since the incident, I’m sure of it.  I stared back at the shut window. I need a breath of fresh air. I went for another go at getting up, this time hesitantly rising, and making my way to the window. As I swung the awning outward, I had caught the smell of cigarette smoke. Memories of hours of sitting at a desk, writing columns suddenly flooded my mind. I always had a cigarette in hand. I felt a stupid smirk make its way onto my face. Oh how I remember trying to think of new ways to flirt with the cute intern. Oh...I guess those were now just days of the past... A terrible dread pervaded through my nostalgia-fueled thoughts like it always did when I thought about my old job. I need to focus. My life isn't over. I knew that going back into an editorial office would trigger the haunting memories that had engraved themselves into my past. I still remember the face of the man’s life I ruined swearing revenge on me. The thought of Steve getting out of prison terrorised my mind. It was only a matter of time that my choice came back to haunt me. The wispy smoke slowly rose into the air and I had become increasingly intrigued. After staring for what seemed like hours, I blinked and the smoke seemed to snap back. I then noticed the man from which the cigarette smoke was coming from. There wasn’t anything extraordinary about the way he was dressed, but he looked familiar to me, and I simply reckoned that he might be a neighbor of mine. No. With that hair and those eyes, that face was too familiar. I’ve seen that face more than the face of any neighbor of mine, but I couldn’t quite place my finger on it. Could it be…. No. It couldn’t possibly be… Although the thought may have irked me, I quickly dismissed it. I had more important things to be worried about.

I made my way to the bathroom, and flipped the switch to turn on the light. My mind was still troubled. The thought kept on making its way back into my head. I wanted it to stop, but for some reason, it wouldn’t. Who was that man? After many moments being preoccupied with thought, I turned the rusted sink handle. I ran my hands under the slightly brown faucet water and rinsed my face in front of the mottled bathroom mirror. My reflection startled me, sending me back into the cabinet, knocking over various expired cosmetics. It wasn’t worth picking them all up. I had been meaning to throw them out anyways. I promptly collected myself and picked up a comb, quickly running it through my bedraggled hair. My lack of showers from this week really didn’t help in keeping my hair grease free. My therapist constantly told me to “have a normal schedule.” I tried, I really did. It's just, whenever I thought about doing something, my mind seemed to… drift away. I wonder what sort of thing he would tell me today. Probably prescribe me some more goddamned pills. Taking one last glance in the mirror, I grabbed my key and headed out the door.

I hastily made my way down the flights of stairs, and eventually out the door of the apartment building to catch the 3:00 bus. I had to run to catch it, panting by the time I caught up with the bus. Well, I’m off to a good start. The city bus seemed to take to the air as it managed to make its way through the dense streets of Manhattan. I probably should’ve gotten more sleep last night. I’m...too… tired. After about eight minutes into my commute, the perpetual whir of the vehicle’s engine put me to sleep.

I woke up in a frantic sweat.  Must’ve had another nightmare. But what was it about this time? A small detail stood in the corner of my mind. A name. Steve. I looked down at my watch to see the time devilishly staring back at me. The clock read 4:45. Shit. Missed the appointment. It wasn’t that big a deal I guess. I probably don’t need it anyway. I noticed now that it was the bus driver who woke me. He must’ve spoken to me, but I didn't notice his words over my own thoughts. I looked up, seeing that I was at my stop. I flashed a quick smile at the driver, and stepped down off the bus. I aimlessly meandered toward my building, almost with a sense of relief. I looked up to unlock the door, only to see the same man from this morning through the window, looking at a notice on the bulletin board. I cautiously pushed open the door, which in turn made a loud creak sound that alerted the man. He turned as I passed, greeting me with a curt nod. It wasn’t until I began my ascent up the three flights of stairs that I noticed his ice-cold stare, aimed directly at me. It was in this moment I fully recognized the man. Middle aged, salt and pepper medium cut hair; it was him. The root of my paranoia, Steve Brunson.  He used to be a sixth grade teacher at the middle school, known as a church-goer and all around good samaritan in the community. I...I mean..The events that transpired weren’t entirely my fault.  Maybe they were though. I….no. No, it...It clearly appeared to be a matter concerning sexual abuse towards that student. I mean, I saw them together outside of school! Maybe I spiced up the story a bit, but that’s my job as a journalist right? Initially, I didn’t think that he had a reason to pursue me like that, but I had already began to doubt that statement. I immediately bolted  After a drawn out silence, he responded “George. It’s nice to hear from you. I.. we haven’t talked in awhile. I heard what had happened. Are..are you okay? Are you on medication?” He paused for a moment. up the stairs, my head vigorously pounding  as I dug my key out of my disheveled pocket. I swore I had also heard him clambering up the stairs but I wasn’t sure. I unlocked the door, and immediately shut it after me upon entering. I whipped out my phone mid panic, and briskly paced over to the kitchen table, and dialed whatever number I could think of. Before realizing it, I had dialed the number of Pingleton, my former employer. Holding back the tears, I did my best to explain the situation without becoming irrationally unstable.“The company took a big hit when you were out of commision in the hospital. You were quite the extraordinary journalist George.”

“No! You don’t understand! I think Steve is…I think he’s coming after me! You need to help me!”

“Steve Brunson? That’s ridiculous!” he jested. “Innocent or not, That man is still currently in prison. It must be the pills talking!”

“No, please! Just come to my apartment! You’ll see! He’s here!”

“Well George I really don’t think that’s necessary. You should really get some sleep. Maybe pay your doctor a visit as well. It’s been nice catching up George. We haven’t forgotten about you here.” Fine. Bye. I slammed the cell phone down and put my head down on the table. My mind was racing with thoughts of both Pingleton and Steve. I was tired. I always was.

I must’ve fallen asleep at the table, because I woke up on the cold kitchen floor. After a moment of laying there, I heaved my body up from off the floor and looked at the clock on the oven.11:57. Eleven fifty-seven? How had it gotten so late? That didn’t matter to me anymore: I had just remembered the events that transpired earlier in the day.  I began nervously pacing at the thought of Steve in the same building as I was. He’s definitely after me. I’m sure of it. What was I going to do? But more importantly, why had he not gotten me already? Surely he could’ve already, considering all that time I was passed out in my kitchen. He surely must have a more sinister plan for getting rid of me. Of course! He must want to see me live through the pain and suffering that I had once bought upon him! Shit! What am I going to do? There was a rap at the door.

Petrified, my eyes fixed themselves upon the door from which the knock came from. This was it. I so desperately wanted to run away and hide, but I could not bring myself to move my body. Why? Why is this happening? The man who had certainly sought out my life was just outside in the hall, just waiting to do away with me, and I’m just stood here. Why won’t I move? What is wrong with me? The knock came again, this time, with a voice. I couldn’t make out what the man behind the voice was saying, but I was certain that it was Steve’s. I was in urgent need to do something. Dammit! In my mind, I kept on imagining opening the door, prepared for what's to come. But no, that wouldn’t ever be the case. I needed to devise a plan. Maybe I can just- The door swung open. “Thank you good sir, I really appreciate-” Before Steve could finish, I instinctively charged at him. I tackled him to the floor and shifted my body on top of his.

“Get out of my house! Why are you after me?”

“What- I-”

Staring into his eyes I began to put my hands around his neck and started  to clench his throat. “You filthy sonofabitch, speak!” He let out an oxygen-deprived shriek as he attempted to break free of my iron grip, but my hands would not let go. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to ruin your life! I didn’t know any better!” Steve gave no verbal response, but rather, he launched his fists in my direction in an endeavour to protect himself. I panicked and found my grip on his neck getting tighter and tighter. I tried to stop, to let go of his throat. That’s enough, George. The tears that that had begun to well up in my eyes now obscured my vision. Get out of my house. Get out of my head! My hold finally let go as Steve’s final breaths escaped his now lifeless body. I stared back at the face of the man whom I was clutching in my arms. The face staring back at me all of a sudden seemed unfamiliar to me. Taken aback, I let go of the man’s body. This...This isn’t Steve. Who was this man? I noticed the man was holding a cigarette in his hand. Had I opened the door for him? This man was just asking for a light, and I took his life. Oh God. W-wh-what have I done?

Almost like vertical blinds, artificial light filtered through the cell bars, casting long shadows upon the opposite wall. Whether nature had decided to put on any plays for me today, I did not know, for I did not attend. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, opening them to see that the shadows were still there. This was inescapable, both the confined space of the cell, and the fate that I had sealed myself within. As I began to weep quietly, a voice called out from beside me. A dry, raspy, familiar voice. My greatest fear incarnate.

“Small world, ain’t it?