THE RED SCARF
By Kathleen Goldstein
Taylor pushed past the other students. “Excuse me, sorry,” she called out as she stepped on toes and knocked someone to the side. She had to get out of her sociology lecture hall and back to the apartment she shared with her sister, Sarah, on the edge of Washington State University’s campus. Taylor had just listened to Sarah’s tearful voicemail about her abusive ex-boyfriend, Adam. She hadn’t been able to decipher everything Sarah had said, but she was crying and it involved Adam, so it meant trouble.
Taylor ran up the steps to their apartment, unlocked the door and without pausing to catch her breath called out “Sarah? Are you okay? Where are you?” A moment later, Sarah emerged from her bedroom, looking pale and shaken.
“What’s happened?” said Taylor, directing Sarah to sit on the sofa. The sisters turned to face each other, and Taylor reached for Sarah’s hands and squeezed them in her own. Sarah’s eyes remained downcast.
“Look at me,” said Taylor. Sarah lifted her eyes to meet her sister’s, and tears start slipping down her wan cheeks. “He’s back” she said, her voice shaking. Sarah and Adam dated for seven months last year. Sarah was eighteen and a naïve freshman and Adam was a twenty-two-year-old senior at the time. His infatuation with Sarah quickly morphed into obsession, extreme possessiveness and jealousy, then violence. Sarah became adept at hiding the bruises and scrapes from her sister and friends. Just before school let out for summer, she told Taylor how abusive Adam had become and summoned the courage to end the relationship. Taylor thought that was the end of Sarah’s trouble with Adam until now.
“Back at college?” said Taylor “But he graduated last year, and he doesn’t know where you live now, right?” Sarah nodded. “Right. But he did text me several times over the summer, begging to get back together with him, and promising that he would never hit me again. When I didn’t return any of his messages, he stopped, and I assumed he had given up and moved on.”
“Okay,” said Taylor. “That sounds promising. What’s changed?”
“Well, I had a feeling for the first two weeks of school that someone was following me, but I dismissed it as paranoia,” said Sarah. “He left me a few messages last week saying he missed me, and I ignored them, but today he sent me 57 texts and left 22 voicemails. All the messages said versions of the same thing - that we are meant to be together and that he will find me,” she said, her eyes wide and her hands trembling.
“We should have reported him to the police when he tried to strangle you after you ended things with him in June. He is sick.”
Sarah’s bottom lip started to quiver as she cried. “He won’t accept that it’s over. In one of his voicemails today he said, ‘Where is the red scarf that I got for you? I told you to wear it all the time.’ Sarah looked into Taylor’s eyes and said in a voice strangled with fear and anxiety, “Adam knows that I used to wear that red scarf all the time when we were dating and if he knows that I’m not wearing it now, that means he’s stalking me.”
“It’s time to put an end to this,” Taylor said and turned Sarah’s chin to face her reflection in the window. “Look at yourself.” Sarah looked at her reflection next to her sister’s. Although they were born eleven months apart, they look like twins. Both girls were tall and slender with long chestnut colored hair and green eyes. Sarah looked at her wan complexion and the dark circles under her eyes due to lack of sleep, next to Taylor’s alabaster skin and bright eyes, and it was a stark reminder of the toll this was taking on her. Tears slid down Sarah’s cheeks.
“You need to file a report with the police,” said Taylor. “Adam has returned to a college he no longer attends just to stalk you. This is serious.”
Sarah bit her bottom lip, a nervous habit of hers. She pulled her hands away and started to pace as she talked. “I don’t want to make it worse than it already is. What if he finds out I’ve reported him, and he hurts me?”
“He’s already hurt you, Sarah. You need to report him so the campus police can confront him. If he doesn’t leave town after a warning from the police, we will file for a restraining order.”
Sarah stopped pacing and turned to look at her sister. “You’re right. Okay, I’ll go tonight after my seminar, but I need you to be there with me, okay?”
“Of course,” said Taylor. “While you’re at your seminar, I’ll go to the north campus library to study for my midterm, then I’ll meet you at the police station at eight o’clock so you can file the report, okay?”
“Perfect,” said Sarah. She hugged her sister and sighed, “What would I do without you?” Taylor smiled and said, “You’ll never have to find out,” squeezing her.
Sarah got her makeup bag and started applying concealer to the dark shadows under her eyes. She had gotten good at hiding the bruises Adam inflicted upon her, and soon the dark circles weren’t noticeable. She blew her nose then gathered her backpack and books. Reaching down, she picked up the red scarf that Adam had given to her and, holding it out to Taylor, said, “You can have this now. There are too many bad memories associated with it for me to wear it any longer but it’s a beautiful scarf, so you should wear it.”
“Are you sure you don’t mind?” said Taylor, wrapping it around her neck and rubbing the soft cashmere between her fingers. She had always loved this red scarf.
“Positive. Okay, I’ve got to run, but I’ll see you at the police station at eight o’clock,” she said and took off on foot for her seminar.
Taylor ate a quick snack, changed out of her sweats and into jeans and a t-shirt and wrapped the red scarf around her neck. Since the library and the police station were on opposite sides of campus, she decided to drive to the library so she could make it to the police station on time. She grabbed her keys and headed to her car.
When Taylor got to the campus library, she found a quiet place to study and began reviewing her notes for her psychology midterm. She soon heard the gentle sound of rain beginning to fall, and as it became heavier and louder, Taylor sighed, thinking, this is Washington. I should know better than to go out without an umbrella. She felt a chill on the back of her neck and looked around her. Is someone watching me? she thought. She got up and walked several yards to the row of books across from her desk, and just as she turned into the row, she saw someone in black turn the corner and walk out of the row at the other end. She hurried after him to see if she could get a look at who it was, but he had disappeared by the time she got there.
Taylor shrugged, returned to her studies, and just as she finished reviewing the last chapter, she looked at her watch. Damn! She was going to be late to meet Sarah!
Taylor dashed out of the elevator, threw open the library doors and sprinted down the steps, holding onto the metal handrail in case she slipped on the wet pavement. As she ran, she ducked her head to avoid the rain that was pouring down and soaking her. She clutched at Sarah’s red scarf as it slipped off her shoulders. It was the only thing she had to protect herself from the rain.
The night sky was black with heavy rain clouds that obscured the moonlight. The campus lamps provided only a dim light, and Taylor could scarcely see the path ahead that led to the parking structure. She knew that she should not be walking through campus on her own this late at night when no one was around, but she ignored the voice of caution that told her to call a campus escort. I cannot afford to be late. Sarah needs me, she thought and pushed ahead through the rain, her feet kicking the dead fall leaves out of her way as she crunched along the gravel path.
Taylor pulled the red scarf around her face and shoulders to shield herself from the rain, but her shirt was already clinging to her chest, water was running down her back, and wet tendrils of hair were glued to her cheeks. She shivered as she hurried through the rain and jumped at the sound of a thunderclap overhead.
Through the pounding of the rain, she became aware of another set of footsteps behind her on the path, the crunching and grinding of the pebbles heavy and loud. She stole a glance behind her and could see a man in a black hooded jacket trailing some distance behind her. Taylor restrained herself from running so that she did not appear to be frightened, but she quickened her pace, her sopping wet sneakers slipping on the wet gravel. She rounded a bend in the path and dashed into the parking structure toward her car on the second floor. Once inside, she broke into a run, her sneakers squelching as she beat out a hushed staccato on the concrete, her backpack jumping around on her back, slowing her down.
Taylor heard the screech of car tires approaching and turned to get the driver’s attention to ask for help, but the driver flashed blindly past her, down the ramp and into the night. When she turned, she saw the hooded man striding towards her, his shoulders stooped and his face obscured. She ran up the ramp toward the stairwell and could hear the sharp rapping of his shoes behind her. By the rapid beat of his footsteps, she could tell that he was not running, but he was getting closer. She darted into the stairwell and ran up the stairs, two at a time. He was not yet in the stairwell. She thought, I need to find a place to hide.
Taylor burst out of the stairwell, the sound of the metal door handle slamming against the concrete wall rang out like a gun shot in the stillness of the parking structure. She whirled about, looking for a hiding place, and spotted a small storage shed not far away. She scampered to the back of the shed, leaned against it and waited. She stood camouflaged by darkness, her knees shaking, her breath coming in ragged gasps and her heart hammering in her ears. Taylor put her hand over her mouth to quiet her breathing. She could not hear anything but the rain and her own heartbeat. She tried to calm down by counting her heartbeats, 1234567, then slower 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 then slower still 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. Her heart was quieting to a more normal rhythm. Her breathing slowed, and she opened her eyes. Taylor felt her coiled muscles begin to relax, and as she cooled down, a chill ran through her when the wind whipped across her rain-soaked body.
Taylor pulled out her phone to text Sarah that she would be late to meet her. She realized, too late, that her phone would buzz and light up when she turned it on. Her fingers shook as she tried to punch the buttons to silence her phone and extinguish the light. She heard a scuffle of footsteps then the light from her phone illuminated the feet of the hooded man just an arm’s length away. He leapt towards her, seized her forearms in a vice grip, and wound her arms up in the red scarf. He pinned her against the shed, immobilizing her body with his own. Taylor struggled in vain to free her wrists, twisting her torso, and shaking her head until her long wet hair was plastered across her face. The hooded man wrapped his massive hands around her throat and squeezed tight. Taylor’s breath was cut off by his powerful hands and as she writhed in his grip, struggling for air, her heartrate skyrocketed – 1234567, 1234567! As the hooded man’s grip tightened on her throat, he drew closer, but all she could see through her tangled web of hair were his dark eyes and his lips contorted with rage. The last thing Taylor heard as she gasped for breath were the words that Adam whispered into the darkness overtaking her: “Found you, Sarah”.
