Play The Game

Play The Game

Chapter One: The Beginning

"You cannot do this to me again!"
"I have no other choice, I can't drag you into my mess, I need to fix this and there's only one way I can do that, I'm sorry."

It wasn't easy leaving the way I did.
I didn't want to leave but in order for my friends to be safe, it was my only logical option, not the safest but I had to make sure they would stay safe.
I couldn't bear the thought of them being put through the same pain as myself, it was unbearable for me, to imagine how they would feel is enough to reduce me to tears.
I went through so much and I know I'll never get over it, I know it'll drive me insane and I know it'll possibly drive me to my grave.
I can't take them with me.
It's best to start from the beginning.
Before I was this damaged.
I'd only just finished my college exams, I was happy and left with a degree in pyschology, you'd think that with that kind of knowledge, I'd have been able to understand who was playing games with me, like in Criminal Minds.
Unfortunately, I'm not nearly as good as the Behavioural Analysis Unit and still can't even begin to understand what's going through this person's mind, I can't even figure out if it's a he or a she.
I was a happy teenager, enjoyed socialising and going out with friends, had an amazing boyfriend; I couldn't have asked for anything better.
It all started when I got a letter one morning, at first I thought it was just a college prank, all it read was

'I'm Watching You Mia!'

I'll be honest, it did shake me up a bit but I just brushed it off and got on with it, it only made me think when I got a second one.

'You Can't Ignore Me. You Can't Hide From Me. I See You All The Time, But You Don't See Me. Even When You Do See Me, It'll Be Too Late, Mia.'

I realised I should speak to my parents, I wasn't sure what they'd say but I knew if someone knew then it would be easier on my concience.
"Mum, can we talk?"
I approached her sheepishly, trying to avoid showing any emotions, almost wanting to turn in the other direction and just brush it off again, "Of course honey, is everything okay?"
"I'm not too sure," I handed her the first letter and upon opening and reading aloud, she slowly turned to me and asked in a worrying tone, "who sent you this?"
"This is the problem, I'm not sure but I brushed that one off, figured it was just some stupid college graduation prank from one of the first year students."
"What do you mean by 'that one'?"
As I slowly take the second out of my pocket, I wonder if maybe, given how she is about the first letter, showing her the second is the smartest thing to do, but even after considering I think that it might be necessary given she's worried about a four worded note.
She reads each line carefully, processing each word as it leaves her lips.
"Mia, do you honestly believe this could be a college prank, these seem somewhat drastic for a prank, besides why do they feel they have to write your name at the end of every note?"
"Maybe to scare me into thinking that something might happen?"
"Maybe isn't good enough, I'm taking this to the police, they might not be able to do anything yet but atleast if you recieve any more, they'll already have a file."
Mum involved, Police involved; maybe it was the wrong decision showing her them, but I suppose she has a point, if something were to progress further from this then they'll have a file on my situation, at this point I was hoping it wouldn't and that my thoughts were correct in thinking it was just some first year college students.
It wasn't to be so.
After a month of no creepy notes, things got a little worse.
I recieved a package from an unknown sender; inside was a note and a box.
The note read:

'So You Don't Believe That I See You? It Would Appear That You Require Proof... This Should Satisfy Your Mind Mia.'

I was unsure of what to do, before even contemplating unboxing whatever was inside, I sneakily approached the window, peering through the crack between the curtains and all I could see were trees and an empty street.
I moved slowly back to the package, examining the box before hand.
After five minutes of staring at it, I decided there was only one way I could ease my concience, I had to open it.
I made a long incision through the cellotape and bit by bit began to open the box, inside were a frame, a shirt and a jewellry box.
The frame contained a photo of me that I'm sure was hanging on the dining room wall,the shirt was the first shirt I bought from my holiday to New York and the jewellry box contained a lone necklace, the exact necklace I'd lost a week before.
What was I supposed to make of this?
This couldn't be someone playing pranks, in fact whoever this is had access to my house, to every aspect of my life.
I was about to kick the box when I noticed that something was written on the inside of the box.

'If You Show This To The Police, I Won't Be So Nice The Next Time We Meet Mia.'

Next time we meet?
I've already met this person?
Now what can I do?
I have to keep this to myself and be cautious of who I meet for a while.
This is where my happy, sociable life began to wither.