After my last post about the stalker—AKA Gooseberry— a lot of you asked whether I’d ever called the police. The answer is yes– I’d called them three times since everything began. One week later, I called them again.
It was Tuesday evening and Sars was in class. Technically, I was also in that class but college rendered me gloriously truant. We hadn’t changed the locks since the week before, because we’d already done so twice. It felt useless. Instead, we just pushed furniture in front of our doors when we slept at night, and talked in whispers because it seemed like he was always listening. [Read more…]