Title: The Brooklyn Story

Summary: "Victim's statement, East Side Stalker. Detective Olivia Benson presiding, badge number: 4015. Alyssa, why don't you take it from the top?" The story of a victim, this time told by the victim: me. And I want it done right.

Chapter 1

Olivia: [Clicking sound] Victim's statement for the East Side Stalker case. Detective Olivia Benson presiding, badge number: 4015, Manhattan Special Victims. Alyssa, are you ready to begin?

Me: Um, I guess so. C-can I get some water first?

Olivia: Sure sweetheart. [Shuffling sounds as Olivia gets the water.] Feel better?

Me: Much. Thanks.

Olivia: Alright. Now, can you tell me what happened that day? And while you're telling it, talk like you're speaking to a grand jury.

Me: Okay. Well, it all started at the supermarket….

I can still remember the first time I had seen him. It had been a simple day, one that normally would have been pushed to the back of my mind the next day to be forgotten. In other words; uneventful. But this one time; this one day, something was wrong. And as I laid the bottle of soda on the counter for the cashier to scan, I could have sworn she could sense it too.

"Is that it?" she asked me, scanning the soda and setting it down into a plastic bag at her side.

"Yeah," I replied, pulling out my wallet. I flashed a quick glance at the line across from me. A man was staring at me; he seemed perhaps… late forties? Early fifties? But I didn't get a good look at his face; the minute he saw me looking at him, he turned back around and handed his cashier his credit card. "That's all."

"$4.95," she stated. I handed her the five-dollar bill and looked back at the man. He was staring at me again. "You okay?"

"F-fine," I replied quickly. I hadn't realized she had noticed. I took the receipt and bag with my soda from her. "Keep the change."

She nodded and watched me walk out.

"Have a nice day," she called after me.

I just nodded and hurried out the door. I tossed a quick look over my shoulder. He was following me.

"Shit!" I hissed under my breath, making a sudden mad dash for my bike, chained outside.

I fumbled with the chain for a moment, earning myself some more vulgar words, but finally I undid the latch and dropped it in my pink basket, along with my soda. Then, with a wobbly take-off and a few scrapes on my leg to show for it, I took off.

Now, mind you, I've had that bike since I was nine. And even with the faded pink basket and the ripped streamers hanging from the handles by a thread, my father had made me ride it everywhere… at least, until I was fourteen, when I would finally get enough money for my birthday to buy a new one. I was thirteen at this point.

But, back to the story. So where was I? Oh yes; nearly falling off of my bike running away. Well, I had ridden for quite a while after my sudden take-off from the store, so I had decided eventually that it would be a good time to turn my head around to see if he had still followed me. Unfortunately for me, a tree had decided to jump out in front of me at the point, and so sooner than I could say "whoops" I had landed flat on my face on the sidewalk next to me, my bike not much better.

"Are you alright?"

Well what do you know? Speak of the devil….

"I'm fine," I told him quickly, taking care to take in all of his facial features. This was definitely the man from the store who had stared at me. "I can take care of it."

"Your arm is bleeding!" he stated obviously as I tried to ignore the pulsing pain in my right elbow.

"I know," I snapped. I picked up my bike as fast as I could, placing the dented bottle of soda back in the basket.

"Would you like a ride home?"

I was already pedaling away when he had finished speaking. To be honest, I don't know what it was about him that had made me so scared. I mean, I had been roughed up by quite a few different people in my lifetime, all of them ten times scarier than the man who I had just encountered. Growing up in the poor parts of Brooklyn hadn't done me much good as a young girl, other than teach me just the right place to punch someone to keep them away.

But once I had been forced to move in with my father in the Upper East Side by my mother at the age of ten, they had hoped that it would be good for me and my… ahem… "rough" manor of interacting with people. But, being a born Brooklyn girl, I hadn't cared much for the snooty people and their fancy houses and their nice cars. I had spent most of my time riding my bike riding around New York, much to my father's dismay. He had hoped I would be more "social."

But anyway, as I rode up my father's long paved driveway, I was pretty shaken up. I just couldn't get that man out of my head. I think it had something to do with the way he had looked at me. It was so… perverted. Ugh. I hated just thinking about it. Quickly, I hopped off of my bike and left it on the side of the house, in the exact same spot it had been in before I had left. In truth, I hadn't really been allowed to leave the house.

So, soda in one hand and my shoes in the other, I began to pad through the front door soundlessly, hoping not to draw attention to myself. I had just made it to the staircase when someone cleared their throat behind me.

"Alyssa?" I turned around slowly, cursing myself inside my head. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Um, hi Daddy," I smiled, hiding my soda behind my back and continuing to back myself up the stairs. "I was just heading upstairs…."

"Alyssa, you know you're not supposed to leave the house without me today," my father scolded me. I saw his eyebrows knit together in a familiar fashion. It was his "disappointed in me" look. "I thought we had a deal."

"Well, I was bored!" I told him. I backed up a few more stairs. "And my computer was acting up, so I decided to go ride my bike."

"A nice book wouldn't have sufficed?" he sighed. He folded his arms over his chest and shook his head disapprovingly. "Alyssa, you know what's happening these days. More and more girls your age are being kidnapped, and-"

"Dad, I know," I huffed, rolling my eyes. "You gave me this story last week."

"I just want you to be safe," he sighed. He finally lightened up and forced a smile, kissing my forehead. "Promise never to do it again?"

"I promise," I sighed.

"Good," he smiled. "Now, run up to your room, okay?"

I was already up the stairs. I bustled into my room and closed the door behind me, letting out a deep sigh of relief. That was a close call. I smiled to myself as I opened the bag and poured my soda into a cup.

"Promise you won't do it again?"

"I promise."

I laughed at the memory and flopped down on the bed. That was the biggest load of bullshit to ever come out of my mouth. And, frankly, I was proud of it.

Notes: Well, new story! :) This one's kinda different, but I still hope you guys like it. :) Inspired by my sister's expirience with a creepy guy at a grocery store. Hahaha I thought I'd give a shot at it. :D Please review with your feedback! I plan on making this story a pretty good one. ;) But I won't continue without feedback, so it's continuance is up to you. ;) So review, and I'll see what I can do. ;) Haha thanks! :D