Two weeks passed since that night at the bar, and the last time Keelie had seen Alex. He seemed to have disappeared off the face of the earth. After he left, the bartender resumed to pursue her to go out with him no matter how much she tried to make it obvious that she wasn’t in the least interested. She had ordered her last drink and left.

She sat on a large cushioned chair, sun shining through the closed blinds like tiny beams of like that scattered about the hardwood floor. She stared at her half-finished painting, contemplating the dream she had had for the last few nights in a row. The same dream with the shadowed man and the dark haired woman.

Now looking at the painting, the woman was finished except for the eyes which she kept blank and the man. She hadn’t bothered to paint him in.

With a growl, she tossed down the paintbrush she had been holding onto her desk and paced, folding her arms over her chest. Her hair was clipped up to keep it from getting into the wells of paint, but short wisps continued to hang down annoyingly, tickling her nose. She wiped them back, trying to tuck them behind her ear but soon gave up. A long sigh passed her full lips as she fell back upon the chair, her legs stretched out in front of her.

Just then, the phone rang.

She rose to her feet with a groan and crossed the bare room and headed to the kitchen. Boxes filled with belongings lay scattered about the room. She hadn’t found the time to finish unpacking to fit around her working schedule. So many demands to had to comply to, she rarely found time to herself and when she did, she was too tired to think about moving.

Wrapping her fingers around the receiver hanging on the wall, she lifted the phone to her ear. She rested her head against the wall and closed her eyes as she rubbed her temples with the thumb and index finger of her free hand.

"Hello?"

No answer.

"Hello?" she repeated, a little more piqued.

Still no answer.

She pulled the phone form her ear, staring at it for a moment then hung it back up. She began to make her way back into the other room when the phone once again rang.

"Damn," she cursed as she turned around, snatching the phone back up. "Look, if this is some kind of prank, you’ve had your laugh."

"I’m coming for you, Keelie," the voice said in a raspy voice as if trying to disguise it.

"Who is this?" Keelie demanded but received no answer except for a click and the dial tone droning into her ear.

With a frown, she hung up the receiver. With a shrug of her shoulders, she dismissed it and headed back into her workroom.

She needed to paint to get her mind off all of the stress.

*****

Lying on her side on the sofa, Keelie stared at the television screen. Her hands were cupped under her chin as her head rested on the cushioned arm of the sofa to pillow her head. A wide yawn passed her lips as she watched the evening news. Everything was the same. Murders, robberies, and occasional rapes; she wondered why she even watched the news anymore. Nothing changed.

She slowly pushed herself up, moving the remote that had been lying tucked beneath her and setting it on the round oak coffee table. Her bare feet crossed the room until she entered her den, making her way straight to the painting. She had worked hard on it, trying to make it perfect, but all she could come up with, was Alex. Instead of the shadow, there was the man that she had only known for a day.

He held the woman close; his eyes full of agony and sorrow as tears slid down his pale cheeks. His dark hair hung loose around his face, pieces of dried leaves clinging to the tresses.

A small frown touched her lips as she lifted a small hand, ribbing a dried streak of paint on her cheek. She hadn’t even washed the paint off having felt so drained. She had put all of her concentration into creating this life size painting, getting the details just right. But still, it was not finished. The eyes on the woman remained blank.

Keelie’s shoulders drooped in defeat. She really didn’t know what to do about it. She didn’t want to paint the woman’s eyes closed like she had the last one. The same one that Alex had bought.

Alex.

Every time she closed her eyes she could see nothing but him. For the past week he did naught but plague her dreams and her thoughts. She couldn’t help but feel the disappointment after he had left. She had searched the phone book several times, rechecking over and over again but she couldn’t find his name. She had hoped to reach him, wanting it know if he was feeling better after his abrupt depart but gave up figuring he wasn’t listed.

A knock at her door caused her to start, her hand flying to her chest. With a long sigh, she headed back into the living room and towards the door. Her fingers curled around the knob and turned, pulling the door open. She didn’t expect to see whom she saw.

The bartender from the bar.

"What’s wrong, Keelie? Don’t remember an old friend?" he asked mockingly.

Keelie drew her brows together in confusion. "How do you know my name?"

"Don’t you remember? Let me refresh your memory, but first," his hand went to the inside of his coat and pulled out a handgun, aiming the barrel straight between Keelie’s eyes. "Get inside."

At that moment, everything seemed to freeze in time as she stared into the dark abyss of the barrel. Her heart raced with fear as she took a step back, his moving in turn with hers as he shut the door behind him, his large hand feeling around for the lock.

"Sit down," he commanded as he waved the gun toward the sofa.

Immediately, Keelie did as instructed, walking to the sofa, her back stiff as she sat, folding her hands in her lap.

"Of course you wouldn’t remember me, especially not after a few plastic surgery’s." A cruel smile touched his lips. "Oh yes, many actually. I’ve had my bone structure changed as well as my nose and mouth. Does the name, Stan Mitchell sound familiar to you?"

Keelie’s jaw went slack as her eyes widened. "S-stan?"

"Yes, Stan. The one who’d ask you everyday to join me for a drink in our senior days in high school and also college before I finally dropped out. Over and over again you refused me. I wasn’t good enough for you was I?"

"Stan I-"

"Shut up!" he aimed the gun steadily on her, "Just shut up."

Keelie closed her mouth instantly. She couldn’t believe this was happening. It had been years since she had last seen him. Of course they had a few classes together, but he was a very strange person even in high school. He had gotten in trouble with the principal for stalking a girl he had a crush on, following her home one day after school and watching her. She never really knew that he liked her, she knew he didn’t. It was an infatuation; at least she thought it was, hoping he’d get over it soon enough. She didn’t think it would last so long.

"Can you understand how much pain you put me through?" His voice was full of agony, though his eyes told a different story. They were hard, crazy. He was completely out of him mind. "Even after all these years you still refuse me!"

He began to pace, the gun forgotten as he held the cool metal to his forehead. He rambled on about things from the past, recent happenings, his surgery’s, all of which Keelie didn’t care to hear. All she wished was for him to be gone and that none of this had happened.

"Even at the bar you didn’t give me a second look. Oh, but I recognized you. I could never forget you, Keelie. Out of all the girls that I had known, you were actually one of the nicest. Each time I asked you out, you would politely decline. But now, I can’t take any more rejections. Do you hear me?" He was back to waving the gun, almost jabbing it towards Keelie and causing her to flinch. "I can’t take this anymore! I changed, but does that change anything else? No, it doesn’t. I’m still the same Stan from high school."

He stopped for a moment, his eyes traveling up and down Keelie’s body, watching her eyes drift from his, lowering to the floor, unable to meet his gaze. This brought a snicker from him.

"You were always very pretty, Keelie, very pretty." He stepped closed, his eyes hungrily devouring her. She didn’t move but remained sitting, her back straight. He brought the gun to her face, touching the metal to her cheek and sliding the end of the barrel down her neck slowly until it reached her cleavage. A grin formed on his lips as he looked down, watching to undress her.

"I always wondered what you looked like beneath all these clothes. I’d lay hours each night in the dark, picturing you naked beside me as I would touch myself, pretending it was you touching me."

Keelie cringed inwardly, her stomach becoming sick. She could still feel the cold metal pressed against her chest.

"Maybe now everything could come true," he continued then pulled the gun away as if he had been stung, his voice becoming hard once more as he raised the gun, aiming it at Keelie.

"No! You have caused me enough grief. This is going to end. Killing you will en my suffering!"

Keelie listed her gaze to his. A sweat began to break out upon her brow, fear clenching at her heart. "Stan, please. This is nonsense, you can’t just-"

"I can’t? I can’t?! You want to know nonsense? Why couldn’t you have just gone to get a drink with me once? Huh, Keelie? Just once? Would that have killed you?"

Before she could respond, he continued, "I don’t care for anything anymore. You were the only one thing that I have wanted for so long, and if I can’t have you, I don’t think anyone will."

He began to apply pressure to the trigger. Keelie’s eyes widened as she slowly rose to her feet, a hand outstretching in a truce, "Stan, put the gun down. You don’t want to do this."

"I don’t?"

"No, you don’t. Think of the consequences that will follow if you were to kill me. You will go to prison for murder." Keelie’s mind was racing as she tried to talk sense into him.

"They won’t catch me. None of them will."

"Stan, please, don’t do this. I was always busy in school with my work. I never went out. We’ll go for that drink now though, okay? I promise."

He shook his head, his smile growing wider, more sadistic, "It’s to late for that now."

He pulled the trigger and in that instant, the loud, deafening crack echoed in Keelie’s ears. She felt no pain but as she looked down, she watched the blood flow through the hole the bullet had made, staining her paint blotched shirt. Her mouth gapped open, trying to speak, but no words came out as she crumbled to the floor, her vision going dark.

"Oh God," Stan whispered unbelievingly at what he had just done as his eyes widened with terror. "Oh God, what have I done?" His hands shook, but he still clenched the gun. Quickly, he ran to the door and fumbled with the lock until he finally swung it open. The door banged against the wall as he made his escape.