You listened to the massive crowd of people clapping, echo off the walls of the theatre. The bright lights making their faces seem almost invisible. You bowed before walking off the stage with your violin in hand. You were still surprised this many people still wanted to watch a woman stand on stage and play nothing but a violin, although occasionally with some accompaniment of other instruments and singers. You walked into the wings of the stage and grabbed your duffel bag for late night dance practice, your lovely stage hands telling you how well you did and giving you friendly pats on the back.
     It was almost 12am but if your mother knew of you not doing your dance practice you would never hear the end of it. You left through the main doors and were stopped by a number of fans and photographers. The clicks of camera's flooded your ears, as fans crowded to try and get your signature. You signed what you could and acted kindly to each fan you talked to, grateful they still enjoyed your music. Mr. Henderson, your driver, was waiting for you at the curb, he stepped out of the car to open the passenger door of your Porsche 718 Cayman "Miss (l/n)." He spoke gently, gesturing for you to enter the car, you smiled "Thank you." You carefully sat in your low sports car.

    You tuned out the gentle opera playing through the speakers of the car, "Are you on your way home dear, its quite late." "I can't go home just yet Mr. Henderson, I have to go to the studio to practice, you know how mother will act if I don't practice enough." You sighed, he hummed in response and kept on his way. Your studio was around where you lived so thankfully it wasn't to much of a change in direction for Mr. Henderson.

    He pulled up in front, the lights were all off, your other dancers, teachers and students all at home resting for another day. "I can come get you when your done Miss (l/n), just give me a call." The old man smiled his bushy moustache following upward with his kind smile. "Oh no no, I'll walk home, you need some rest, your seeing your grandkids tomorrow you need all the energy you can get!" You returned his smile and closed the door, duffle bag in hand, pulling the keys out of your purse and unlocking the door to your studio.

    Your calves and toes ached horribly as you finished up your practice. It was past 2am, you rubbed your eyes with a sigh, did a quick stretch and packed up your point shoes and leg warmers. You walked home quickly after locking up wanting to find the comfort of your shower and bed as quickly as possible. It was quite a beautiful night, the stars trying to peak through the light pollution in the sky, a gentle fall breeze and the leaves crunching under your feet. You let out a content sigh as your house came into view, pulling your keys back out of your purse. You punched in the code for your front gate and the doors opened with an aging creak, you hurriedly walked up the long driveway to your house. You saw that Mr. Henderson had parked the Porsche out front and his car was now gone. You considered Mr. Henderson as another parent, he treated you as his own, followed you and your family to japan along with his own family. You did see to it that his whole family had excellent living spaces and were near schools, grocery stores, etc.

    You grabbed the mail Mr. Henderson had brought up to the front door and read through the envelops, one had looked as though it had come from a fan. You loved fan mail, they made you feel special. You were quick to open the envelop, it felt thicker and heavier then other letters you've received from fans, which only raised your expectations more.

    You watched as pictures fell out of the envelop, but not just any pictures.

    Pictures of you came tumbling out one by one, but these weren't professionally photographed, these pictures were taken of you through the windows of your own home, through your bathroom window and lots of pictures through your bedroom window of you sleeping. The acidic taste of bile swelled in your throat as you looked through the pictures and one after the other they horrified you. To your disgust there was still more in the envelop, a bag of hair and pieces of flesh fell to the floor. It looked exactly like your hair, it was the exact same colour, texture and length, the flesh was quite thick but small in sizes and still covered in blood. A quiet "Oh my god." Fell from your lips as your hands shook violently.

    The red and blue lights flashed brightly as you sat shaking on your front steps. The first responders had given you a thin grey blanket and sat with you to try and calm you down and cops were searching your house and your entire estate for evidence. They looked in the envelop and found a letter addressed to you, the police officer that found this note was quick to unfold it, bag it and bring it to you. The policewoman who found the note spoke softly with a gentle hand on your shoulder "Would you be comfortable reading this note? The writing may be familiar to you." You gave a small nod and grabbed the bagged letter with a shaky hand.

            "To (y/n) (l/n),
   
     your music calms me so, the ever growing screaming in my head goes silent when i hear you play
    i want to hear you play just for me,
    i want to watch you dance just for me,
    i want you to sing just for me, i have heard you sing, since you don't sing for anyone it almost seems like you do sing just for me
i want the heart that beats in your chest
     i want to watch you sleep, not just from out a window
    i want the hair that grows from your beautiful head
    i want the fingers and toes from your hands and feet
i want the teeth the rest in your mouth
i want the tongue that articulates each of your words
    i want your beautiful eyes, to feel them in my hands

I want you, precious

   
   

You couldn't even comprehend the entirety of the letter, your brain forcing itself to try and forget something as disgusting as that. "I've never seen this handwriting before." Your voice cracked, feeling sicker and sicker as the night went on. The officer took the bagged note walked off showing it to other officers so they can understand the severity of the situation. Someone wanted to cut pieces of you off and hold them in their hands.

    A police officer with the face of a cat and hands that looked similar to paws told you they couldn't find any traces of forced entry, evidence of trespassing and said "It was nothing but an overly obsessed fan." They will be taking the pictures for evidence and going to test the flesh's DNA, as well.

    "Make sure to call us again if you receive another letter from that address and see to it you up your security. For example body guards, more cameras stuff like that." The Cat Officer spoke, and with a tip of his hat, they all left. You tried to think of it like the police did, nothing to really worry about. But there was still that feeling of discomfort lingering in the back of your mind. You went inside still slightly shaking, you went around your house closing all the blinds locking every door and window in the house. With a small glass of wine you curled up in bed surrounding yourself in blankets, pillows and a few stuffed animals. You quickly researched for the best security tools, items and cameras you could think of, buying an entirely new surveillance system. You didn't drink almost ever so the wine made you feel a little looser and made your eyes heavier but you knew regardless you were going to have a horrible sleep.