Roger

He followed her down the street. With every step Emma could feel the man's breath on the back of her neck, even though he was still about 10 houses away from her. Her heart was now exploding out of her chest, as her front door drew closer and safety became increasingly possible. She had met this man yesterday in an alley in the rain of all places, seems now she should have took that as a sign of what would be to come.

The alley was normally safe and well lit, it ran alongside a magnificent park with trees and activities galore, normally stuffed with ice cream eating tourists and local children. To the other side of the alley there was a pattern of streets and other alleys. Street, alley, street, alley. It was from one of these Alternate alleys that Roger came, he came with almost perfect timing as Emma passed by walking down the main alley. She had forgotten to bring her waterproof and so her hood sat uncomfortably wet upon her head and her vision seemed to be blurred from a combination of the rain and thoughts on what had happened during her day, these thoughts were only to get worse as Roger stepped out of the alley and into Emma's life.

The figure was a tall man, and he wore a blue velvet coat, now sodden from the rain. His trousers however were waterproof and rubbed together as he walked, making an awful swishing sound that Emma would come to fear. He finished his bizarre assortment of clothes with a pair of brown brogues, which extended past his toes and ended with a blunt point, making his feet look unhuman. His hair was parted unnaturally, and his eyes were a sharp cyan. Below the unshaven mess of small hairs on his upper lip, the man's lips were almost entirely dead skin which was peeling off revealing a layer of pink, from which came a thickly accented Yorkshire drone. His arms stood rigidly beside his hips and even has he walked did not swing. His pace was fast and as soon as he reached the crying girl, he gently places his hand on her shoulder and began to speak. "Hi, I'm Roger, Roger Rose, what’s your name?"

Emma looked down at the hand that had grabbed her, it had long dirty fingernails, but the rest of the hand was in complete contrast, it was pristine and even hairless. Emma did not flinch as the hand reached her shoulder, but she took a long time to realise that what he had said was not a threat but in fact a question. Emma was a smart girl; it was this detail of her personality that she believed had caused her to be relentlessly attacked by bullies at school but more so her own thoughts. She was a pretty girl the type that in an American High School drama would not be bullied but instead be the bully, but she did not get the attention Regina George or Cher Horowitz received but instead got pushed down by everyone. She was constantly used by boys and constantly attacked by girls. Above all this though was herself, she hated herself more than anything and more than anyone else did. Maybe all this is why she was unphased at first by Roger and his hand resting close to her neck.

Emma too had a Yorkshire accent however hers was soft and gentle, "Hi? I'm Emma" she replied.

Rogers eyes exploding with excitement, yet his voice remained monotone and unchanged, he raised and lowered his inflection randomly as he spoke as if he was still learning. "I live, just up there, what about you?"

"I’m, erm, not from around her" Emma said unconfidently. Her father had taught her well regarding stranger danger. They had taught her well in almost everything, they were good parents. Their only downfall was their naivety to Emma's glaringly obvious mental health problems. After seeing Emma's scarred arms, her mother rushed over caringly, she knew what had happened and comforted Emma, but just told her "don't do that again" and smiled. After five minutes she was gone from her daughters’ side and back to cooking downstairs, thinking she had saved the day and solved all of Emma's problems.

Roger knew Emma was lying with her reply, he knew already she lived just a street away from where they stood and he knew already that she was the one. He had no respect for liars, any sort of lie in his eyes was a direct attack upon him. As if to stir the pot Roger asked another question. "Whereabouts?"

Emma replied almost immediately "I've, erm, got to go". She grabbed rogers’ hand and took it off of her shoulder, it flopped down limply until it reached his side where it stood rigid like before. Emma did not wait for a response, and briskly turned around and walked the same direction in which she had come. Roger watched her walk all the way down the alley, stood, motionless his eyes piercing the back of her head. Emma turned around when she got to the end of the alley, he was gone, but she could still feel his hand grasping her shoulder.

She felt safe when she eventually reached home after circling round and travelling instead via the slower main road route. Her home felt safe, it had always felt safe to Emma even when it was empty as it was now. Her parents had gone walking for the weekend, they often did this, they did always ask Emma if she wanted to come, but on almost every occasion she replied no. She liked being in the house alone, she felt then she could do whatever she wanted, even though her parents put no restrictions upon her when they were home. She would dance through the house, juggle with most objects she could get her hands on, and cooked experimental unhealthy foods. Just as she had gotten into a tune and had begun to frolic around the kitchen, "Bzzzz" a notification, the music resumed and she carried on, she picked up the tea towel and began throwing it in the air for herself to catch. "Bzzzz", again she ignored her phone, aggravated now at its interruptions to her fun. "Bzzzz", this time she marched over, ready to mute whatever app was causing the annoyance. It was Instagram, the man from the street had followed her, and then he had sent two messages. She pondered leaving the messages and if she would have known what would happen the next day she would have. But instead, she read and replied.

"Hi Emma, its Roger, Roger Rose, from the alley", "I was just wondering if, you were feeling any better?" the messages read.

"I’m okay thanks." Emma replied, only after realising that she had never told the man she was feeling down, she supposed he could tell from the obvious tears that wept down blended with the rain, that splashed down occasionally from her hood onto her face. Without giving Emma time to think Roger had replied. "Bzzzz".

"What are you doing now?", this time she read the message over in her head, and as she thought about what to reply she moved from the kitchen to her room, and protected herself under the duvet, the feeling of Roger's hand now placed back firmly upon her shoulder. Yet still she told the replied, and she replied with a truth.

"Just sat on my bed" she typed. Roger couldn't help but produce a wide smile as he read Emma's message. He was stood in the back alley, peering into her room, observing her every action. If Emma had looked out her window at this point, she would've called the police and stood her ground waiting in her house, keeping an eye on the man who stood outside, but alas she never did.

Roger's reply came in fast again "I’d like to see that:)". Emma dropped her phone as soon as she read this, the hairs on the back of her neck now erect, almost pulling her back. With immediate effect she blocked the account and tried to put the man out of her mind.

A couple of hours passed by, the sky was now black, and Emma almost had the man and all of her interactions with him out of her mind, the hand on her shoulder now only lightly resting. She heard a ringing upstairs, it was her phone, the sound startled her. The hairs on the back of her neck once again pricked, and the hand pressed harder against her shoulder, it was as if she already knew that it was Roger who was calling. Yet still she answered.

"Hello?"

"Hi Emma, it's me, just checking in to see if you are actually feeling any better" the familiar voice droned.

"I'M FINE!" Emma shouted, the hand now pushing her down into the sofa, her heart beating out of her chest. She hung up. After a few heaving breaths the phone rang again, she stared at it now fearing the sound. She hung up. Again, it rang and again she hung up. She realised she wasn't thinking and this time as the melody came in, she hung up and blocked the caller. This displeased Roger, even though he knew it would happen.

The hand from Emma's shoulder did not leave her that night and had only slightly weakened by the time she got up out of bed. Roger's voice stalked her thoughts, any distractions Emma tried to give herself he appeared in. As Emma tried to remember happy memories of her and her family, the door exploded with the sound of knocking at the door. The hand pushed harder and Roger was once again at the forefront of her mind. She approached the door apprehensively, trying not to make a sound, before opening she peered through the peep hole. She saw a familiar face stood before she door. It was the postman.

Emma had become unusually acquainted with the local postie, because of the excessive amount of stuff her parents ordered online. His name was Pete, he had a scruffy brown beard and thick brown eyebrows. Pete's smile was chirpy and infectious, he was perhaps too happy considering the trauma he had experienced in his childhood. Little did Pete know that the package he was delivering today was sent by the person who caused his mother to be buried when she was 24. Little did he know that what he was delivering was his mother’s wedding ring. The carefully sealed box shut all these secrets inside, these secrets which would foreshadow Emma's fate. Little did Emma know that the contents of the box would serve as foreshadowing, not until it was too late.

After having some polite conversation with Pete, Emma's mood was up, she lay down upon the sofa and began tearing at the cardboard in which a small wooden box was hidden. She examined the box; it was an ocean blue colour and painted waves were splashed across it in a formulaic pattern. She opened the box, inside there lay a folded bit of paper and a beautiful silver ring, covered in ornate patterning. Emma smiled at the gift, for she did not yet know whom it came from. That was until she opened the note. "A gift for my dearest Emma, Love Roger x". With immense speed Emma jolted her body upright, into a stiff sitting position. She dropped the box, ring and note to the floor with a load thud, which was inaudible to Emma over the sound of her own pounding heartbeat.

Without thinking she left the house and began speed walking to the main road. The time was 6 O’clock and the sun was beginning to set, Emma didn't know how he knew where she lived, and she did not have a plan of what to do next. Suddenly it came to her, she would ring the police, she felt around in her pockets only to realise she had left her phone at home in her rush to leave the house. She started to walk back. Just down the main road she saw him, he was walking towards her with emotionless eyes staring right at her. She picked up the pace. By the time she reached her street the distance between the two had increased and Emma's breathing had become out of control, the hand on her shoulder was weighing her down, sticking her to the start like a trap with every step. He followed her down the street. With every step Emma could feel the man's breath on the back of her neck, even though he was still about 10 houses away from her. Her heart was now exploding out of her chest, as her front door drew closer and safety became increasingly possible. She reached the door. She once again rummaged in her pockets only for the same feeling to be experienced again, but this time it felt so much worse. Her keys were locked inside the house. She ran into the alley; the man too had reached the end of the street. As if god himself wanted this misfortune to be placed upon Emma, a squirrel jumped from the park's fence onto the path startling the girl as she ran. Emma tripped over and her head bashed against the cold wet cobbles.

Roger approached the unconscious girl, bent down, and caressed her cheek with the back of his hand. He smiled. "mine now" he whispered into the ear of his victim.

Emma slowly opened her eyes; she was laying surrounded by four strangely familiar yet unfamiliar walls. Her body was awkwardly squashed against her wall. The floor felt cold on her bare legs. Suddenly she realised that before she was wearing jeans, t-shirt and a hoodie, whereas now she lay in a short sleeveless blood red dress. She stood up quickly and inspected the room. It had a very similar layout to her backroom at home yet had different furnishings and beige walls. Above where she was laying there was an empty wooden shelf which had been hammered into the wall. She looked down again at the dress and felt again the hand upon her shoulder, now accompanied by hands all over her body, which were feeling her all over and making her feel waves of sickness. She briefly thought about whether her bra and pants had been changed as well but didn't dare to look.

Fuelled by adrenaline she left through the dark wooden door at the other side of the room. Yet again what she saw through the door was familiar, it was her kitchen, but all the furniture was gone and the walls a sickly lilac. She figured out where she was now, she was in one of the many clone terraced houses in her area. She had seen other houses like this one when she had introduced herself to her neighbours, every home had pretty much the same layout, this one must have been recently bought. Emma began to scan the room with her eyes and noticed a collection of keys of the black marble countertop, she grabbed them and stuffed them in her pocket just as Roger entered the room. "Mornin' sleepy head" Roger said in an excited yet sinister tone, "I'll just pop the kettle on, sit down make yourself comfy" he continued. Emma was confused and scared, this man was speaking to her as if she was a guest and not as if he had just kidnapped her. She didn't oblige to Rogers commands and instead shouted with noticeable fear, all the questions she had for her kidnapper, not waiting for a reply between each one.

"Why are you doing this? What is this place? Where are my clothes?, What do you want from me?" As the continual pumping of adrenaline around her body continued Emma felt as if she may have some power back in the situation as she refused to sit down, that was until Roger, with a wide smile on his face began walking towards her. He didn't stop until their noses were almost touching, he put his hand upon her bare shoulder and calmly told Emma to sit down. She sunk down into a chair.

"This place is my home." he answered. "Those clothes are the clothes of a friend, one who reminds me of you, haha". His chuckle was clearly fabricated and made Emma's skin crawl. "Why am I doing this to you? Well you fell over on the street and knocked yourself unconscious, I recognised you from the other day of course and out of the kindness of my heart decided to bring you into my home. I even changed your clothes which were dirty from the fall. I cleaned your wounds in the bath and dried you. Lucky I had some women’s clothes ey hahah." Emma could now feel the hands on her body, caressing, scrubbing and rubbing her, she felt extremely sick although the fear kept the vomit inside of her. "What do I want from you? I just want to make you feel happy of course. I know you'll be happy here. You'll be happy here won't you? Don't answer that. You know I picked this house out just for you. We can make it look just like your home can't we. Me and you, living together, what a blast it will be. Hey in a few years’ time we can re-enact our first meeting together ahaha, that would be a blast. Of course, I wouldn't want you to come to any harm so maybe you could just pretend to be unconscious whilst I wash the dirt of your body haha. Now though, we don't need to think about our fine future but only the fine tea I’ve just made you." Roger placed his hand on Emma's shoulder yet again "Drink it. Drink it please, it will make you feel better."

Emma had been sitting shaking violently as she tried to process everything which the tall man was saying. She was boiling over with fear. As the kettle finished and Roger began talking about re-enacting her and his meeting, Emma began to think about Rogers actions as well as his words. She could not see what he was doing as her view was blocked by a half wall, yet she knew having made plenty of tea herself that he was excessively meddling with one of them, the one she assumed was hers. When Roger came over, placed his hand on her shoulder and told her to drink a plan had built itself in Emma's mind. Almost immediately, without thinking, the adrenaline kicked Emma and her plan leapt into action. "NO!" she exclaimed throwing the boiling liquid right into Roger's face. She stood up from the chair. Roger had bent down, writhing grasping his face and screaming in agony. Emma ran to the back door which she had passed on her way from the backroom, to the chair that Roger sat her in. She yanked the keys from out her pocket and started to fumble with them, trying each as fast as she could on the door. Roger still screaming started to stumble towards her, one hand still clutching his face the other reaching out towards Emma. Emma found the right key and as she inserted it into the keyhole Roger grabbed aggressively at her shoulder. But this time Emma grabbed his hand back, and threw it off her shoulder, startling Roger and making him stumble backwards a bit. Emma launched the door open and ran out into the yard, she grabbed the keys from the door and before he could reach her Emma had slammed the door into Roger's burnt face. He was knocked to the floor. Outside, she began to climb a trellis that had been invaded with various weeds. It was unstable yet easy to climb, she got to the top of the wall. At the top she looked back and noticed Roger was gone from behind the door, she couldn’t see him at all in fact, so she jumped down from the wall with speed, hurting her feet upon impact. When she scanned the alley, she immediately knew where she was and began to run to the local police station.

Emma never saw Roger again, even with the police investigation only lasting a month before being cancelled because of lack of evidence. Turns out the name Roger Rose never existed. Her family moved her to a new house on the opposite side of the city, of course after hearing about what had happened to her daughter, they never talked to her about it though. Emma often thought about Roger, about what he could be doing and about what he had done, these thoughts eventually left her though. The only thing that remained was the feeling of his breath on her neck and his hand on her shoulder.