On our way home from shopping, my eight-year-old daughter suddenly grabbed my hand. “Mom, quick, into the bathroom!” She pulled me into a stall and locked the door. “What’s going on?” I asked. She whispered, “Shh… don’t move. Look…” Then she peeked under the door. I followed her gaze—and froze in fear.

She mouthed the words without sound:

“He followed us.”

Outside, the boots stayed planted. The phone didn’t move away. It tilted slightly upward, searching for a better angle.

My hands shook as I pulled my own phone from my pocket, praying the screen glow wouldn’t give us away. I didn’t know if we should scream, run, or stay silent. Every option felt dangerous.continue reading …