The Figure

He was out there again. Except maybe ‘he’ was a ‘she’ – it was hard to tell in the dark. Three nights in row, I’d looked down on to the street from my bedroom window and watched the shape standing there, almost hidden behind the tree that refused to die. I got the feeling whoever they were, they were only a year or two older than me… The first night I’d just stared for a while and then got bored. The second, I’d opened the window to shout something, but there’d been nothing there to shout at. Tonight, I was going to scramble downstairs and throw open the door. Really I was. Really.
         Night swiftly fell, and before I knew it, it was 11 o’clock. I glanced out the window, and there it was – a mysterious figure, crouched behind a withering stump of a tree, visible only by the dim light emanating from a shattered lamp.
For a moment, I hesitated. For a moment, part of my mind restrained me, whispering that perhaps this wasn’t such a good idea. But that moment quickly passed, and I found myself stumbling out the door, entranced by the dark figure.  As I approached, the figure did not appear as menacing as it had from my window. 
I drew closer and realized that the figure was a girl, a beautiful girl. She was slender and delicate, and there was just enough light to make out her soft brown hair, her pale blue eyes, and her dimples that creased her cheeks as she smiled at me.
         “My name’s Emily, Emily Clarke,” she whispered,
A shiver ran down my spine; it had suddenly become very cold.
         I smiled back but her face twisted into a horrified expression.
         “Stop him!” she shrieked frantically,
         I felt my heart pound against my ribcage. I whispered,
         “Who?”
         She only looked around and whispered back,
         “Stop him. Please-”
Suddenly, hammering footsteps drew my attention to a man tearing towards us. He leapt at the girl and yelled as he clenched his hands around her neck.
I stood frozen, wrought with fear. This man was massive.
I dashed back into my house, frantically searching for and a phone and a baseball bat. I came out holding both in trembling hands.
The street was bare. I couldn’t have been gone for more than fifteen seconds, yet the girl and the man were nowhere to be seen.
It was impossible.
Had I imagined it all?
Had I imagined this mysterious figure four nights in a row?
Bewildered, I staggered back home for a restless night.
***
The first thing I did next morning was look down the street. It was empty. No man, no girl. I thought nothing of it until the radio sputtered:
“-bulky man… still at large… killed his last victim a week ago… Emily Clarke, a seventeen-year old girl…”
The room became colder.
A shiver ran down my spine.