The Stalker Between US

Julia POV “Help! Someone, please help me!” I scream as I run through the dense woods. “Help...” All I see are shadows of the tall trees swaying. The wind cuts me like a knife to the gut, easily passing through the sheer tights and black leotard. I don’t know where I am running, but I just run until I see a clearing. When I reach the clearing, electric green eyes appear out of nowhere. As I squint my eyes further, I notice a big black wolf has those eyes. “Help...” as I collapse on the ground, with my tattered clothes. Beep beep beep ... beep beep beep. I groan as I open my eyes, not having gotten enough sleep. Waking up in a cold sweat again. Damn it, why do I keep having this dream? It has been similar but different every night since I moved to the city about a month ago. It starts with me on stage, dancing ballet. Then one of my fans follows me, then poof out of nowhere, I am running through the woods, with ripped clothes and beaten. I stood at an unassuming average height, but my presence was unmistakable—a tumble of dark, curly hair framing my thoughtful face and a warm olive tone to my skin that hinted at sun-soaked childhoods far from the city’s relentless gray. I had moved to the city with nothing but a worn suitcase and a heart full of tentative hope, leaving behind the small town where I’d spent my whole life. The transition hadn’t been easy; my family, bound by tradition and wary of my ambitions, had turned their backs when I chose independence over expectation. Disowned and alone, I had learned quickly how to blend into the city’s rush, my strength quietly forged in the spaces between loneliness and longing. With no one to lean on but myself, I was determined to build a new life from scratch, one uncertain step at a time. I climb out of bed to turn on the shower. Piping hot, just the way I like it. After quickly scrubbing my hair, I washed my body with my vanilla body wash. I hear my coffee maker's timer go off, notifying me it’s time to get out of the shower. I dry off, wrapping my towel around me as I search for what I am going to wear today. Thrusting through my closet, I see the perfect dress. Dresses are my go-to outfits; they are simple and easy to maintain . The dream pops into my head again. It’s weird to me because I dance ballet as a hobby, once in a blue moon, so how I have “fans” following me, I don’t know. Second, I don’t know of any wooded areas near New York City. Maybe when I lived Upstate, sure, but not here. I have three interviews today. After moving to the city a month ago, I only found a server job. Although I can plaster on a fake smile while dealing with rude customers all evening, I miss my job as a pediatric nurse. I moved because I had this amazing offer at Northern County Hospital. After two days, they stated they were closing, and just like that, I was out of a job. Man, this dress fits perfectly: not too short, very modest, going up to my neck and stopping right above my knees. I check myself over once before I move into the kitchen. Quickly grabbing my cup of coffee, I scurried to the entryway, finding my light blush, light sparkle-dusted boat shoes. Just enough bling to add to the blush attire.