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me half to death.
    I make my way over to the washer and load my clothes. Once I’ve started it, I sit
     on the dilapidated sofa that’s down there. On laundry days, I just hang out and read
     until I’m all done. No sense in making unnecessary trips up and down the stairs.
    I’m really getting into the story after a good half hour or more, imagining the book
     boyfriend to be Patrick Swayze when I hear the basement door open. I look up, but
     from my angle, I can’t see anyone descending the stairs. The creaking on the steps,
     though, indicates that someone is coming down them.
    A bulky-looking man in his mid to late thirties comes into view. He’s unshaven with
     unkempt hair. The thick black-rimmed glasses he’s wearing remind me of something like
     what a serial killer would wear according to the books I’ve read. His face is littered
     with acne, and when he grins at me, I can see that he has yellow, gnarly teeth. The
     way he watches me like I’m on the menu, has my heart racing like crazy.
    “You live in this building?” he asks, his voice deep and gravelly. The way he looks
     at me makes me squirm uncomfortably.
    “Yeah, and you?” I ask, attempting to make small talk. My warning bells tell me to
     run up the stairs, but they do that all the time, so it’s hard to know if it is a
     legitimate fear or not.
    “I live on the third floor. You must live on the second?” he questions. He seems to
     already know the answer but is waiting for confirmation. I don’t want to tell him,
     but I don’t see any way out of it.
    “Um, yeah.”
    He grunts but doesn’t say anything more. When the buzzer alerts me that my clothes
     are ready to be transferred to the dryer, I jump from the couch, thankful for the
     interruption. As I walk toward the machine, he stands in front of the table beside
     it. Leaning on it, he watches me in a way that makes me completely nervous. I’m pretty
     sure he is a weird person, but then again, everyone seems weird to me. In actuality,
     I’m the weird one.
    I open the dryer and toss the wet clothes into them. When a pair of my panties falls
     to the floor, I bend quickly to retrieve them. His eyes are on my ass the entire time.
     I feel them sliding over me like oil. Shuddering, I hurry and close the dryer so I
     can start it.
    “Um, do you need to use the machine? You can slide on in,” I sputter nervously, looking
     back into his steely grey eyes.
    “I can slide on in, huh?” he asks suggestively as his eyes land on my breasts.
    I quickly cross my arms over my chest to end his peepshow. He frowns at me, looking
     back up.
    “Well, uh, nice to see you, but I need to run upstairs while these are drying. Bye
     now,” I say and wave in his direction before snatching my book from the sofa and hauling
     ass toward the stairs. The man’s dark chuckling behind me sends my skin into an uncontrollably
     itchy frenzy, and I fight to not gouge my skin with my nails.
    The door slams loudly at the top of the stairs, and I look up to see Liam standing
     there, his arms crossed. I think it’s his signature move. The man’s laughing gets
     closer as I hurry and ascend the stairs. Liam looks beyond me at the creep, and the
     hateful look he sends that man’s way scares me half to death. I run past him and into
     the stairwell like my life depends on it.
    It isn’t until I’m safely in my apartment and drinking in large gulps of air from
     the window that I finally start to relax. My mind races as I worry about what that
     creepy man’s intentions were. Since I am a mental head case, I don’t know what’s perceived
     and what’s actual. I’ll have to talk this out with Tina.
    My skin feels so dirty from that man’s offensive stares, and coupled with the itchy
     burn I feel, I know I need a shower right away. I’m already naked before I make it
     to the bathroom and slip into the ice-cold shower. I moan in relief as the water slides
     over my skin, cooling off each scar. This new