It was terrible. Yesterday, I walked to the gas station to get some gas for the lawn mower (11 or 12 blocks). On my way back, I spotted HIM in an alleyway. I broke out in a sprint for a full minute before I looked behind me. HE was beside a tree not more than 30 feet away. A threw my gas can at him (it didn't hit him) and ran even faster. Every time I peeked over my shoulder, HE was somewhere not quite out in the open. It appears that running for your life slows time down because I felt like I was running for days. I made it to the back of my house and to my horror, I discovered that the back door was locked. I sprinted around opened my front door and practically flew my house. I slammed the door.
Lauren was in the kitchen and immediately knew something was up. She said something and I was so startled that I whirled around and attempted to full force punch the perceived threat. I thankfully missed and ended up smashing a cabinet door. I apologized and told her what had happened. She didn't say anything but instead looked at the blood dripping from my hand. Then she finally said "Well, I guess the lawn won't be getting mowed today." I remember laughing, but it was a pained laugh mixed with knowledge that I was safe, but only for the moment.
What happened is significant. It marks the first time that HE has aggressively gone after one of us. If this gets any worse, I am going on the run. And I am taking Lauren with me, whether she likes it or not. The alternative is death, pure and simple.
Fuck, my hand hurts...