I knew immediately that it was Mrs. Lamb. It had to be.

He hid behind a ski mask, a bulky hoodie, gloves, and cargo pants. Although it was impossible to tell who it was, especially in the darkness of the bar, I knew that I was staring my crazed stalker right in the face.

The dark figure didn't say anything, just stood and stared at me. My brain was frozen, my heart was racing, and I dumbly stood in my spot like a deer caught in headlights. I couldn't move, or speak, or even run. I just waited, paralyzed.

It felt like time froze in that moment, the air still and tense. And then, it felt like everything was happening in slow motion when I watched the slender, dark figure begin moving toward me. At first, they just took a few steps and I flinched backward but when they started picking up pace, beginning to run toward me, my flight or fight started to kick in.

And I wanted to fight.

I felt all of the muscles in my arms tense up, waiting for Mrs. Lamb to come within reaching distance. This was my chance, all I had to do was grab at the mask and I'd have my answer. As time slowly moved along, it felt like it took minutes for them to approach me at the other end of the hallway.

But before I had the chance to reach, grab, or fight at all, I felt a heavy force crashing into me, knocking me to the ground. Even with the wind knocked out of me, I managed to open my eyes and prepare to kick at the attacker, they were already gone and I could hear the back door slamming shut through the ringing in my ears.

Without giving it a second thought, I sprang to my feet and began sprinting toward the door. I couldn't let him get away, this was the only time he'd ever messed up. I might not get a chance like this again. I needed this.

Outside, I immediately spotted a large truck parked on the other side of the dumpster in the alley. Just as I started running toward it, the truck began speeding away from the scene with squealing tires and a loud vroom of the engine. It all happened so quickly that I didn't even get a license plate number, or even the type of truck.

I stood unmoving in the alley for a long time, allowing myself a moment to catch my breath and assure myself that I was safe. For now. I didn't know if Mrs. Lamb was going to return, so I just wanted to get out of there. I thought about calling the cops to report what happened, but it'd take them at least an hour to show up just to take notes and leave without really doing anything to make me feel safer.

It was already three in the morning, my body ached from sitting in the storage room for so long, and then getting slammed into the ground. I just wanted to go home, so I decided against calling the cops and turned back around to go inside to grab my purse and guitar. When the door wouldn't budge as I tried to pull it open, I felt a twinge of annoyance that I'd locked myself out of the building.

Luckily, my keys and phone were both in my pocket, but I'd have to return the next day to get the rest of my things.

I didn't realize how badly I was shaking until I got to my car and watched my trembling fingers wrap around the steering wheel. The burning pain in my shoulder was a constant reminder of the altercation that had just happened, and I felt like there was a stain on my body where I was touched by Mrs. Lamb. I felt contaminated and disgusting just for being in the same room as them, breathing the same air.

I felt sick at the thought of being so close to Mrs. Lamb, but also felt some sort of relief in knowing that it could have been so much worse. He clearly didn't know that I was still at the bar. I didn't even want to think about what could have happened if he had time to plan something else.

I never should have allowed myself to be in a dark place, late at night, all by myself in the first place. How stupid am I? Granted, I didn't realize so much time had passed when I broke down in the storage room, but I needed to be more careful.

Despite being completely exhausted mentally and physically when I got home, I wasn't able to rest until I took a shower to clean my body from Mrs. Lamb's presence. It wasn't a rational thought, especially since the contact they had with me was very quick, but I couldn't sit still until I'd scrubbed my entire body twice.

Reliving the moments of adrenaline over and over in my mind, I started to feel angry at myself for not acting quicker. I should have ran toward them, been the one to knock them down instead of getting knocked down myself. I should have attacked rather than defended, and then maybe I could have been closer to an end to this nightmare.

I'd been taking those self defense classes for weeks, and I thought I was getting pretty good at it. But what did I have to show for it? Even with the knowledge on how to fight back, I still froze in the moment.

By the time I allowed myself to lay down in my worn out bed, the sun was almost ready to rise out my bedroom window. And even in the handful of hours that I tried to rest as much as possible, I could barely get my tired eyes to close. Every time I did, all I could see was that dark mask running toward me. And every time I tossed or turned on the mattress, the sting in my shoulder was just another terrible reminder.

Just as my luck would have it, I had finally lulled myself into a fragile sleep when my phone started ringing on the night stand. Being quick to answer it to avoid hearing the ring again, I grabbed it and put it to my ear, "Hello?"

"What kind of pie do you want for Thanksgiving?" Abigail asked me in a cheery voice on the other end. I had no idea what time it was, but the sun shining enthusiastically out the window made me realize just how late in the day it had become.

"I'm not going to Thanksgiving," I mumbled in my groggy voice as I rolled over and hid my face under the blankets in an attempt to hide myself from those gleaming rays.

"What? You have to," she whined. "Mom and Dad will get over their tantrum, I want to have the whole family together."

"Lily isn't coming," I reminded her. Since Lily lived so far away in another state, she planned on celebrating Thanksgiving with her boyfriend in Indianapolis with the promise of coming to Christmas next month.

"Which is why we need as many other people there to counteract her absence," she explained to me. "Why are you still sleeping? It's almost noon."

"Long night," I supplied vaguely. "Mom and Dad still aren't talking to me and frankly, I'm not really talking to them either. It's so fucked that they're basically disowning me for something that didn't even happen."

"I know it is," she agreed with me. "Please just think about it? I will talk to them about how they're acting so childish right now and maybe get them to apologize."

"Then maybe I'd think about it," I suggested. Although I was pretty upset with my parents for going more than a week avoiding me, I knew that was what Mrs. Lamb wanted. If they apologized, I knew that I'd forgive them just to retain the people that were in my life, because I had to cling on to who I had rather than continue to fall into Mrs. Lamb's traps.

"So, then tell me what kind of pie you would want if you hypothetically came to Thanksgiving," she circled back to the original question.

"Um, apple, I guess," I mumbled, finally getting out of bed and stretching my tired limbs. I could feel the sore spot on my hip from being pushed down yesterday and winced.

"Good choice," she chirped. "This will be good for us, you know? What we really need right now is a nice family get together without any drama."

"Tell that to Mom and Dad," I said bitterly. In my small kitchen, I poured myself a bowl of cereal before sitting on the left couch cushion to eat my sugary breakfast.

"I know they're being difficult," Abigail sighs sympathetically. "I really think I'll get through to them, they can't stay mad forever."

I didn't believe her, as I felt like they did a pretty good job at staying mad at me for many things throughout my life. Maybe if it was coming from Abigail, their golden daughter who could do no wrong, it'd help them open up to talk to me again. It still hurt that they wouldn't believe me, or even hear me out, but I was in no position to be pushing people away.

"And when they hear that your name is blowing up since the showcase, I know they'll be excited for you," she added.

"I wouldn't consider it 'blowing up'," I clarified. "I just got a few more followers."

Although that wasn't quite true, my follower count had gone up a considerable amount and my shows were selling out much faster than they had been prior to Bogart's. There was a nice spike in interest in my music and I've been working with Manny and Lina to keep up with my social media, but it was hard to stay motivated.

I was never a huge fan of putting my life out there on social media, but ever since Mrs. Lamb came into my life, I'd dreaded it. Fearing that I accidentally posted something too personal, something I didn't want people to know that could lead to people tracking me. If I was careless, maybe there would be more of them coming out of the woodwork to make my life hell.

However, I knew it was an important aspect of my career, so Lina helped me draft posts so that I could keep up with everything.

I hated it so much, but it was part of being a successful artist. I wasn't going to let Mrs. Lamb take that away from me like he had with so many other things. Music was mine and he couldn't have it.

"Are you kidding? There's so many more tweets about you every time I look," she retorted. "My little sister is on the up and up."

"I don't want to get my hopes up, it could die down," I reminded her. Of course, I didn't want that to be true, but didn't want to get excited about new fans if it was just a fifteen minutes of fame situation and they all got bored.

"Well, my hopes are up," she said. "I need to go, I just got to the store. I'll see you next week."

"Probably not," I responded before ending the call. I had a long day ahead of me that I was not prepared for, first having to decide on how I wanted to handle what happened yesterday and then I had a show that night that my heart wasn't set on. It was a good venue with a great pay out, but I didn't really want to leave my apartment.

I wanted to lock myself away until the cops could find and arrest this guy.

I felt like I was receding into a child-like mental state in some ways. I was becoming afraid of the dark, afraid of strangers, hardly able to take care of myself anymore. Desi had been bringing me meals a lot lately because I wasn't even eating that much anymore. It felt like he was winning. I was falling like putty into his trap and it was so frustrating that he was getting to me so much. I'd never felt so weak.