I had really been shaken up since the horrible bathroom experience at the store a few days prior. To be so bold. Did that mean they were either ready to strike or close to ready? Was that event just some kind of scare tactic meant to shake me up further? To my disappointment, they had succeeded. I was a mess. I found myself looking out the windows of my home far more often these past couple of days. Any time a car drove by, I felt a tightness within my chest, and my stomach felt like it would drop clean out of my body. I was too scared to even go out to get the mail. I knew they were watching. Those demons. They would have to be possessed to be acting so cruelly and insanely. If only I could get the police involved in this. If only they - or anyone - would just listen to me. What would it take?

Today was one of those days that I didn't want my husband to leave for work. I was so scared to be alone. I was a wreck yesterday without him. Seeming to jump at every noise from outside. I had begged him exceedingly to remain home with me. Just for today. I couldn't take the stress of these stalkers on top of all the stress of handling my children. Or worse, what if I couldn't protect them when the time came? What if the stalker meant to hurt my children first only to make me suffer more? I felt like I was living in constant terror. I couldn't relax. Every moment that passed was ultimately a moment that brought them closer to me eventually. If they had failed with that first bathroom attempt, would that mean their revenge would be even greater?

This all felt so outrageous. So unfair. What did I do to deserve this? Why was I being harassed and hunted? That was what it felt like. Like how a cat will toy with a mouse before the killing blow. This was all a game to them. I was losing that game. They hadn't laid a single finger on me yet, and yet, I was already distraught and tormented. Exactly what they wanted.

My phone rang. I was hoping it was my husband. Hoping he would be calling to tell me he changed his mind and would turn around to return home to me. I hated that he left me. But no. It was some unknown number. My stomach twisted into knots. I turned my phone screen side down and rested it on the arm of my rocking chair. The vibrations of my phone only made me rock more anxiously. Of course, they had my number. I already knew that. They would be calling me from a bunch of random, fake numbers. They must have known that I wouldn't answer. But they still took joy and pleasure from causing me pain or discomfort. I could change my number, but I knew they would just find it again. One way or another. It was pointless. Was hiding from them also pointless, then? They already knew where I lived. I rubbed my temples to ease my headache.

I heard a distant, almost robotic voice. I looked around to find out where it was coming from. A new hallucination? Surely, not. That's when my gaze fell onto my phone. Could it be? I lifted it up and put it to my ear. The voice. It sounded like a voicemail or answering machine. But it wasn't coherent. Robotically it spoke in nonesene, "Here is for and have just you must take within, so I'm heading to your previous one in charge to get away-" I tried to hang up the phone, but it wasn't on. The recording was somehow playing without my phone even receiving any call. I threw my phone against the wall as hard as I could in my panic to get the recording to stop. I picked up my phone again and threw it one more time just for good measure. They had hacked my phone somehow. They must have. Which meant they had been able to listen in on all my calls. They were probably even still listening right now.

I wanted to tell my husband, but I wouldn't be able to call him. Not without them listening in. They must have done this so that I would never be able to call for help. They had really thought everything through. If I called the police now, would it even work? Could I? Again, what proof did I have. I tried my phone. The case has done its job in protecting my phone from all the impacts it faced. It still worked like I had never thrown it at all. I wasn't going to let them listen in. I simply turned my phone completely off and wrapped it in a couple towels before burying it in the back of my closet. My husband usually calls me on his way home from work. This time, he would be met with my voicemail. But I would explain everything to him when he came home.

"I'm heading to your... what?" I whispered to myself. Was he speaking in code? Was it something I needed to decipher? Previous something? Previous location? My home? He had said something about within. What did that mean? Was it a secret message, or was it nothing at all? I tried to think of what my therapist would tell me. How this was somehow all some misunderstanding. Or would she finally see that I was right? After all that had happened, it was obvious that I was being stalked. It was very clear that I was being harassed and tormented. It had to mean something. Maybe the message wasn't even meant for me to hear. Maybe it was to my other stalker. Like some kind of spy organization. All to take out some simple housewife. God, it sounded so stupid when I put it out there like that. But what else could it possibly be?

I bit the skin around my fingernails until they bled. If they had hacked my phone, what else could they have hacked? My computer? My watch? My television? I huffed. The toaster? Was there no limit to how low they would sink to stalk me? Why were they so obsessed with me? What was the purpose of all of this madness? What was the endgame? How could I get it to stop? Why couldn't they just leave me alone? All my questions were hollow. There were no answers. Madmen never needed a reason to do anything. I stared at my laptop on the coffee table. How would I be able to tell if they were listening to or watching me? I suppose I couldn't. Not unless they slipped up like they did this time. If that was a slip up. I was scared now to even be standing here in my own home.

I didn't know what else to do. I loaded my daughters up since my son was at school for the day and drove up to my husband's work. If they had somehow bugged my car, I wouldn't have known either. Not like they needed to since they followed me everywhere anyway. This was out of my normal routine. They would be wondering what I was doing. I didn't have my phone to call him to warn him I was coming. Instead, he just got me walking right into his place of business with my two daughters in tow.

He worked at a furniture store. The floor was set up with bedroom sets, appliances, living room sets, etc. I walked across the show floor towards the back counter. He was with a customer and saw me coming. I would have waited for him to finish, but I saw him excuse himself, looking worried. He came over to me and immediately checked the girls.

"What's wrong?" He looked them over. Expecting that I wouldn't be interrupting his work for anything less than an emergency with our children.

"Our house is bugged." I really didn't have a simpler way of addressing the situation.

"Bugs?" He stood up to meet my eyes now, looking more confused than concerned, "Kim, just call an exterminator and make arrangements for someone to come out."

"No." I shook my head, "Bugged. bugs.The stalker I keep telling you about but you don't believe me. They hacked my phone. Who knows what else they got to."

"I'm sorry, what?" He looked mortified.

"It's like I told you! They are listening in on us. Probably watching us, too!"

He was clearly mortified in a very different way than I was." Are you kidding me? You came up to my job and interrupted my work just to go on a rant about that stalker you can't prove exists?"

"I can!" I shot back, "I heard them, Frank! On the phone!"

"What did they say?" He folded his arms.

"They said -" I paused, trying to remember as well as trying to make it make sense, "Listen," I started slowly to ease him into it, "They use a code. Okay? So, it didn't make a lot of sense, but I understood some of it. They said something about being within? Maybe within our house? And they are... possibly..." I had already forgotten what they had even said. I could tell I was losing him, "Whatever they said, Frank, it sounded like a real threat. Did you expect me to just keep the children there as targets? You wanted me to stay home after that?"

"Are you joking with me right now?" He asked again, "That's your proof?"

"I heard them!" I insisted.

"Just like you hear people in the walls, Kim." He rolled his eyes, "Just like the people in the walls can't be understood, right? I'm sensing a pattern."

"You think I'm making this up?" I snapped, feeling my face getting hot.

"Shh." He waved his hand in front of me. "Not here. Not at my job. We can discuss this when I get home tonight."

"What am I supposed to do until then?" I threw my hands up.

"Go home!" He pointed back towards my vehicle. "Go home and take the kids home. Stop doing this, Kim. It's getting really old!"

"Oh, my harassment is getting old?" I spat back, "I'm sorry that me being stalked is an inconvenience for you."

He spoke through clenched teeth, in a low whisper, "You aren't being stalked, Kimberly! That stalker isn't real! The voices aren't real! It's all in your head! All of it! Every single bit! It's all you! Now, if you will excuse me, I need to do my job. And so do you, for that matter. Be a mother. Take the kids home, and for the love of all that is holy, take your medication. You aren't making any kind of sense!" He didn't leave any room for rebuttal. He just walked back to his waiting customer with a plastered smile and his salesman voice.

I could have cried right there, I was so angry. I came to him scared and trying to explain how unsafe I felt, and all he did was invalidate and belittle me. What was I supposed to do now? Where was I supposed to go? We couldn't go back home. Not without him. I needed him to help me check for the bugs and the cameras. Who knew what all they had managed to hack into or if they had managed to place anything into our home. All of this was happening, and my husband didn't seem to care at all. It was almost, just almost, like he was in on it or something.