The Stalker Next Door: 9. The Window Is Always Open

Mara stood in her bedroom, staring at the curtains.

Her heart pounded hard enough to make her chest ache. The cheap fabric swayed slightly in the night air, caught by the faint draft from the radiator, and for the hundredth time she asked herself if she was really going to do this.

The world outside shimmered with city lights, neon bleeding into darkness. Across the narrow divide of brick and glass, a hundred strangers lived their lives — working late, falling asleep to television static, making love behind drawn shades. Somewhere in that mosaic of lives, he was waiting. Watching.

She hadn’t forgotten what he’d whispered the night before, voice rough against her ear. Leave them open. Show me.

The command had echoed in her head all day. She’d tried to fight it. She’d yanked the curtains shut that morning, shoved clothes into the hamper, scrubbed her teeth until her gums bled, trying to erase the taste of him. She told herself she wouldn’t give him what he wanted. Tha