Fallen For Criminal

Chapter Two

His icy grip seized my hand while his gaze lingered on me with a predatory hunger. I was experiencing harassment.

"Your lips are so succulent... they're burning up," he murmured with a voice filled with desire.

My heart raced with terror as I struggled to break free from his unyielding grasp. I could sense the danger emanating from him.

The warmth in his eyes had vanished, replaced by a twisted madness that sent shivers down my spine. "If you give me a blowjob, I'll pay you," he growled, his insanity on full display.

As the man continued to grip me tightly, I could feel my heart racing with fear. I had never felt so powerless before.

My mind was racing with thoughts of how to escape his hold, but I knew that I had to be careful not to provoke him further.

The restaurant was bustling with customers, but none of them seemed to notice what was happening. It was as if I was trapped in a bubble of fear and helplessness. I tried to push him away, but his grip only tightened, making it difficult for me to breathe.

I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes as I looked at him pleadingly. "Please let me go," I begged, my voice barely above a whisper. But he just laughed, his breath hot and unpleasant on my face.

"You're a feisty one, aren't you?" he sneered. "I like that in a woman." I felt sick to my stomach as he continued to leer at me. It was as if he was enjoying my discomfort.

I wished I could disappear into thin air, but I knew that I had to stand my ground.

"No!" I said as my smile faded, my voice growing stronger. "And if you don't release me, I will scream. Please note that you are in a public restaurant." I could feel the eyes of the other customers on us now, their conversations dying down as they realized that something was amiss.

I knew that I had to make a scene if I wanted to get out of this situation. But the man just laughed again, his grip still tight on my arm.

"Go ahead and scream," he said. "No one will believe you." I wished that I could scream. I really wished that I could hurt him, spit on him and call him all sorts of foul words. But I couldn't because I was just a waitress.

We get harassed like this sometimes. But all we do is to swallow our pride, apologize to the customer harassing us or insulting us and move on for the sake of good reviews. I was also very scared of him.

The way he gripped me made me start urinating without control. I know this because I could feel my underwear slowly becoming wet with warm urine.

The man instantly let me go and I fled from his table without looking back. When I was finally at a safe distance from him, I finally looked back.

He was still staring at me. This time, however, he wasn't admiring me, but his face was contorted with wrath. I knew that I had to report him to my manager, but I was too afraid to do so.

What if he came after me again? What if he hurt me? I realized then that being a waitress was not just about taking orders and serving food.

It was also about dealing with people who thought they could treat us like objects.

As I walked towards my apartment, the weight of the day's events hung heavily on my shoulders. The sun had set, and the streets were deserted, except for the occasional passerby. I couldn't shake off the feeling that someone was watching me. My heart was pounding so hard that I could hear it in my ears. I turned around, but there was no one there. I tried to reassure myself that it was just my imagination, but the feeling persisted.

I picked up my pace, and soon I was almost running towards my apartment complex. It was a small, nondescript building, hidden behind a tall wall fence. There were eight apartments inside, and all of them were occupied by people who preferred to keep to themselves. I had lived there for six months, and I had never exchanged more than a nod with any of my neighbors. It was a strange, unsettling place.

As I approached the gate, I fumbled with my keys, my hands shaking. I finally managed to unlock the gate and push it open. My heart sank when I saw a figure lurking in the shadows. I froze, my mind racing with fear. Was it a burglar? A stalker? A murderer?

The figure stepped forward, and I saw that it was just one of my neighbors. He was an old man, with a wrinkled face and a crooked smile. I had never spoken to him before, but he seemed harmless enough.

"Good evening," he said, his voice raspy.

I nodded, my throat dry.

"Sorry to startle you," he said. "I was just taking a walk. It's a beautiful night, isn't it?"

I managed to mumble a reply, and he walked away, whistling a tune. I watched him disappear into the darkness, feeling grateful and relieved.

I hurried towards my apartment, my heart still pounding. Once inside, I locked the door and leaned against it, trying to calm my nerves. I realized then that my job had taken a toll on me. It had made me paranoid, anxious, and mistrustful. I had become a prisoner of my own fears.

I decided then and there that I needed to change. I needed to break out of my shell and start living again. I needed to make friends, to take risks, to embrace life. I took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly, feeling a sense of determination wash over me. I was going to start fresh, and nothing was going to stop me.

As I sat in my small bedroom, enjoying the peace and quiet of my solitude, I suddenly heard an inaudible man's voice outside my door. My heart started beating wildly in my chest as I checked the time to see that it was already Eight PM in the night. I was immediately struck with unease, as I never received visitors at this time of the night.

To make matters worse, the person outside my door was not knocking, which made me all the more apprehensive. With trembling hands, I crept over to the door and peered through the kitchen window to see who was there. To my shock, there was no one outside.

I was left feeling confused and on edge. Was I imagining things? Had someone really been outside my door? Just as I was about to lock the door again, I noticed a large shoe print on my doorstep. The print was huge, as if it belonged to a man.

My heart started pounding harder as I realized that someone had indeed been at my doorstep. But why had they left? Maybe they had gone to the wrong apartment by mistake. As I started to close the door, I couldn't help but look around the yard to see if the stranger had gone to another house.

To my surprise, the entire place was eerily quiet and lonely, almost like a graveyard. The streetlights cast a dim glow on the empty streets, adding to the sense of unease that I was feeling. As I scanned the other apartments, I noticed a gentleman watching me intently from behind his window.

I couldn't shake off the feeling that something was really off. Who was that man outside my door? And why had he left without knocking? As I lay in bed that night, I couldn't help but wonder if I had narrowly escaped some sort of danger. The mystery of that night still haunts me to this day.

As I blinked and politely smiled at him, I couldn't help but feel a sense of discomfort. He was a stranger, and yet he seemed to be staring at me with an intensity that made my skin crawl. Despite my unease, I tried to remain courteous and maintain a calm demeanor.

However, as I waited for him to return my smile, he simply continued to gaze at me with an unsettling expression. It was as if he was studying me, analyzing every detail of my appearance and behavior. I couldn't shake the feeling that something was off about this man.

I couldn't take it any longer and decided to retreat into the safety of my home. As I locked the door behind me, I couldn't help but wonder what had just happened. Who was that man, and why did he make me feel so uneasy? I tried to brush off the encounter and focus on my day, but the memory of the stranger's piercing gaze lingered in my mind