But now, as he stood above the unconscious body of my abusive husband, after having beaten him almost to death, I could recognize the face of my late father. I had never seen him so close before, but somehow I knew it was him. I was sure of it.
The strange man had been following me for years, always keeping his distance. I had always assumed he was a figment of my imagination, a ghostly reminder of my father who had died when I was five.
But now, here he was, standing in front of me, his face illuminated by the moonlight. His eyes were cold and his expression was one of rage. I knew he was here for revenge.
He slowly turned to me and said in a low voice, “You will never be safe again. I will always be watching you, no matter where you go. You will never be able to escape me.”
I shivered in fear, unable to move. I knew he was right. He had come to make sure that no one would ever hurt me again. I was safe, but I was also terrified.
