The Locker Stalker

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When I was in eighth grade my middle school was overflowing with kids. So there wasn’t manly lockers to go around. I started the year out by sharing a locker with my best friend lets call her Maxine. Halfway through the year another one of my “friends lets call her Chanel ” told me someone had broke into my locker.

So we went to the office and since Maxine wasn’t there today, the principal decided the best possible solution was to move me into Chanel’s locker. Well she had her locker stuffed full. She had an extra shelf and a chalk board she had put in her locker . The shelf had 8 different holsters. She used 7 of them and the ones already in the locker. I had 8 classes And 6 books that I had to cram on 1 little shelf. I also played basketball and had a game bag I had to keep in the locker.

I already thought that this was a little too much just to share a locker with a friend. That feeling was reinforced when the first note arrived.

However, it was not slid above the door like a normal letter usually was, this was written on the chalk board. That wouldn’t have been so bad if we hadn’t of had a lock on it.

The note said, “Don’t get any ideals b*tch I know where you live and I will prove it if you go to the office.”

Well since I was almost 6ft at the time and only a 14 year old female I didn’t feel scared. I thought I could take on anyone at the time. At first I thought my locker buddy had done it, but she was absent that day and there was no way anyone else had a key since the lock was mine and my locker buddy didn’t have a copy.

I ignored the problem at first and even told Maxine and my new locker buddy about it jokingly. That was until it progressed. Each note started getting more aggressive and sexual. One of the worst ones mentioned using me in a satanic sex rituals.

After a while I just got tired of it and switched lockers. I wished the story ended there.

I secretly moved back into Maxine’s locker without telling the principal. Since there was no chalk board notes arrived the old fashioned way. It got to the point that They started trying to get me to meet them at various places.

Half way through the year they started attaching pictures of me to the notes but it was in various places like stores or my games.

I never told my mom but I should of especially after I started seeing the creep outside my window. It was always too dark to see their face.

That was until the day they broke in.

I was home alone and I know it’s cliche but I was in my room texting when I heard a door open. I didn’t know what to do but I ended up hiding in my room with my trusty old pocket knife. Then they walked in. I didn’t know what to expect, I guess a man dressed in all black and a mask with a pistol, but all I saw was a man in casual clothes and a knife.

They started looking everywhere and I knew it was only a matter of time before I was found, so I tried to sneak out of my room. I guess he saw me because as I ran to the door, he followed. He ended up pinning me as I struggled for the lock. It was then that I saw their face. It was my old science teacher from the year before. He then said it was time to have fun. I then pulled out my pocket knife hoping he wouldn’t notice me, but he did. Then he stabbed at me with the knife, but at the same time I pulled mine up and got his leg good then I rolled out of the way of his knife.

As I rolled I pulled my knife back out, but at the same time I felt a pain in my side. Luckily I had done enough damage for him to limply run out the door. I was terrified so I wrapped my side up and thankfully it wasn’t deep at all. I ended up not telling my mom or anyone and I didn’t call the police.

The teacher resigned and moved far away but I did hear he lost his teaching liscence for hitting a student the next year. Maxine ended up moving to Kentucky and Chanel turned from a friend. I ended up moving but it wasn’t too far.

Im just happy that it’s all over and I don’t want to know what would have happened if I hadn’t fought him off, or if that knife would have went a little deeper.


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