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xx: Why photo? That's too cliche, darling.

xx: I want to ask something a bit naughty. I don't want you to feel like I'm a creep.

xx: So I want you to drop me the clothes you wore to school today.

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…

…

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xx: You wore a plaid shirt, right? I bet you haven't washed it yet. Drop it outside, at the back door. I'll pick it up and replace it with a box of crystal meth. 

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Oh, come on! What kind of high-level creep can you be! Why would you want my sweaty-ass plaid shirt? You know, at this point, I'd rather give you my photo.

Even my baby photo, I didn't mind it!

Wait, the baby photo sounded even grosser than before, never mind then.

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Emmy: Fine, do you want me to drop it now?

xx: Yes, I bet Mom is already sleeping at this hour, right? 

Emmy: Stop making it as if he's your Mom!

xx: Darling, we're going to marry in the future. Of course, I'll call him Mom, just like how you'll call my parents Mom and Dad.

—

Ugh, fucking creep!

But what he said was true. Mom must've been sleeping at this hour. I checked the clock, and it was 10.30 already. 

I sighed, walked to my laundry basket at the corner of my room, and then picked up the brown plaid shirt I used today. 

I smelled it and distanced my nose immediately. 

Ick, it smelled of sweat. 

Of course, since I used this for the whole day and used my bike, I got sweaty.

It didn't smell that bad, but I still hated it since I remembered some of those bullies tormented me for being a nasty, smelly pig. 

Yet, this one-man liked this kind of thing. What a sick man.

I bet he was some ugly ass creep, no doubt. 

I opened my door room and peeked from the staircase, checking if my Mom was still watching some late-night show or not.

Luckily, there was nobody in the living room. 

So I went downstairs and headed straight to the kitchen, where the back door was located. I unlocked the key and took a deep breath.

Click.

I opened the door slowly, peeking at what was outside in case that creepy man might be around.

After finding it safe, I hung the shirt at the door handle outside and then closed the door silently. 

I locked the door again, afraid that he might break in and attack my family and me. 

I took out my phone and texted him.

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Emmy: I've put my plaid shirt outside. 

xx: Yes, I saw that, wait for about thirty minutes and open the door, okay? The box of crystal meth will be at the door for your use.

—

I wasn't brave enough to confront him, but I also didn't want to miss this moment because this felt like a totally illegal trade between us.

But the trade wasn't between money and drugs. It was a smelly plaid shirt for a box of expensive drugs. 

Strange, I knew. 

After fifteen minutes, I could faintly hear the firm footstep walking towards the door. I listened carefully but dared not open the door.

I feared my own life, feared that he might bring a weapon and attacked me while I opened the door. 

After a while, his footsteps started getting further and further. I assumed that he was walking away from the door. 

I checked my phone to see if he had texted me. In another ten minutes, he finally texted,

—

xx: The box is at your door, my dear.

xx: Thank you for the shirt, darling. 

xx: it smells like you, so wonderful. I really want to hug the real you. I really want to kiss the real you…

—

Ugh, come on, things were already bad right now. You didn't need to make it even worse!

I didn't intend to open the door right now because I was afraid that he was still standing there. Maybe he was faking his footstep and was ready to strike me with a baseball bat or something. 

It was like a scene of horror, where I clutched my phone tightly and cowered in fear behind the door. 

I waited until exactly one hour, and when I opened the door slowly, peeking with only one eye, hoping that my greatest fear wouldn't come true. 

After being assured that everything was safe, I opened the door a bit more and saw a black box on the mat. 

I sighed in relief and lowered my guard a bit. I opened the door a bit more and took the box inside. 

But when I was about to close the door again, I looked up and saw a figure in the dark of the night, standing quite far from my position. 

Although I could see nothing since it was really dark and there was no garden lighting, I could see that he was wearing a hoodie and holding my plaid shirt.

I couldn't see his expression, but I could sense that his eyes were glued at me, and he was smirking. I couldn't determine whether he had malicious intent or not, but his smirk definitely perked up when our eyes met.

I froze on the spot, my leg felt too weak, and I could not move nor react with anything. I lost all strength on my feet, thinking that I might've made a really terrible choice to open the door. 

But then, I heard the notification of an incoming message on my phone. The man then turned around and walked away leisurely, leaving me terrified for another ten minutes before I regained my strength and closed the door silently. 

I locked the door and slumped on the ground. The shock was too much for me to handle. I never knew that being stalked like this was ten times scarier than in my stupid imagination. 

I slowly unlocked my phone screen and saw his text.

—

xx: Do you think I'll leave so soon? I keep waiting until you open the door, darling. So I can see your beautiful eyes, hair, face before I return.

xx: Thank you for the shirt. I'll treasure it. 

xx: I love you.

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