Another round at the grocery store. Except this time, I didn't come alone. Thankfully, my husband wanted to do a little shopping of his own. I was relieved to have him with me. He wanted to try a new recipe, and he was quite picky about ingredients. Seeing as I couldn't be trusted to bring the right things home, or any things for that matter, my whole crew was here. It was slightly overwhelming to bring all the children, yet still preferred over being alone. We just had to deal with the children constantly asking for sweets or toys.

I hated to do it, as my husband hated it himself, but I needed to use the restroom. Which meant he would have to wrangle the children himself for a few minutes. It seemed like after my pregnancy, I still needed to pee every hour or less. And I wasn't one to gamble on trying to hold it for long. I let him know I would be back soon, which left him grumbling in annoyance.

I power walked to the back of the store. My luck was in play today as the bathroom was empty. I wouldn't have to wait. I went to the very end, the furthest stall from the door. Right as I was finishing, the whole door of my stall rattled harshly under thunderous bangs. I jumped in panic. I never even heard anyone enter. Now, they were knocking like they had a search warrant.

"Occupied!" I tried to hurry. I could smell them. A powerful odor of cigarette smoke. I wrinkled my nose. The person never responded. I saw their shoes under the stall door. Black boots. Too large to be that of a woman. The door rattles again, this time with them trying to open the stall door. "Occupied! Someone's in here!" I yelled. I was completely dressed by now, but far too scared to approach the door. No way was I going to open it when this person banged like I owed them money. Instead, I only stared in terror at their shoes. Just waiting for them to finally leave.

Eventually, they did. They turned and walked towards the exit. I held my breath and counted their steps. As soon as all was quiet, I rushed from the stall and out of the bathroom, not even bothering to wash my hands. What if they came back? I wouldn't want to be in there alone with them. I looked every which way, trying to spot the black boots. Where did he go?

I fled back to my nearby husband, who had been waiting near the bathroom now, in a panic. I didn't even wait until we were away from the children to speak in private. "He was in the bathroom!" I grabbed his arm tightly, "my stalker! It had to be him! Or one of them! He was just in the bathroom with me! He tried to get into the stall!"

"Whoa, whoa." He shook my talons off his arm, "Slow down, Kimmy. What are you talking about?"

"There was a man in the bathroom!" I hissed in my frustration. He was far too calm for my liking.

"Did you get confused and go into the wrong bathroom?"

"What? No!" I knew I seemed frantic, "You're not listening! A man just tried to enter the stall I was in! He banged on the door! He tried to get in!"

"If you didn't see him, how do you know it was even a man?"

"His boots! His shoes were huge! I saw them!" I looked around me now at everyone passing to see if any of them had the shoes I saw. My stalker would be smart enough to change shoes.

"Maybe he really had to go." My husband tried to reason it with me.

"No!" I insisted, "the bathroom was empty! I was the only one in there! He could have gone into any stall! But he chose to try to break into my stall!"

From his perspective, he just saw me frantically looking over my shoulder and looking at everyone's shoes. I knew he didn't believe me. Well, if he did, he didn't care as much as he should have.

"My stalker is real!" I told him. "I knew it! Everyone tried to tell me this was all in my head! To a point, I very nearly believed them! But I knew it! All along, I knew I was being followed!"

"Can you lower your voice?" Was all he said in response, "We're in the middle of the store aisle. Please don't do this in public. Wait until we're home, away from the kids. You're gonna scare them."

I lowered my voice to whisper to him, "You don't think I'm scared? I was almost attacked! Or worse! Do you even care!"

"Of course, I care!" He snapped back at me. "But you forget that I was close to the bathrooms. I didn't see anyone go in or out except for you, Kim."

I stared at him in shock, "You... don't believe me."

"I believe that you believe you saw someone." He committed to the safest phrase he thought to say.

I was speechless at this point. There was no way I simply imagined all of that. That was impossible! About as impossible as hearing voices that no one else did. About as impossible as seeing faces shifting. And yet, this just frustrated me further. I knew what I saw. I wasn't imagining that. That was as real as anything else I could have seen. I knew I wasn't crazy. No matter how much he, my therapist, or anyone else may have thought. I knew what was real. And this was real. My stalker was real. And he was so close I could have reached out and touched him if not for the door. I could hear him, smell him, see him. Surely, not all of my senses were working together against me.

"Let's talk about this later." He spoke again in my silence, "You know I don't like when you do this in front of the kids."

"You don't like when I express to you how afraid I am." I pleaded for any amount of validation from him. Any amount of comfort.

"I can see you're scared." He sighed in annoyance, "You're scared of everything. Let's fight about this later." He walked ahead of me now, walking away from the conversation. I almost could have cried. Couldn't we talk to the store? Wouldn't they have cameras. Wouldn't that prove I wasn't crazy? I followed my husband in silence. What was even the point? I knew nothing would change what I saw. Nothing would make him believe me. I could be murdered by them. He would walk in to see my bloody corpse on the floor and still lecture me about being lazy. Telling me to get up and clean the mess I've made all over the floor.

Either way, this was likely to end in one mess or another. It was going to come down to me or them. And I wasn't about to give them any kind of satisfaction of taking me out themselves.