Fearful Things

Peeking

I mindlessly scroll past the images on my phone without reading the text blurring by, wondering when it will leave. The heavy bed sheets draped across my legs are becoming soaked with the nervous sweat seeping from my body, but I'm far too terrified to move a single inch. I don't know when it got here, or what it even is, yet I can't help but feel that my feigned ignorance is the only reason it hasn't moved. My stiff spine aches from the cold pressure of the wall, and my neck cries from its bent position. But I can't move.

I had sat down on my bed and decided to look through some apps before going to sleep when I saw it out of the corner of my eye. Out of sheer panic, I froze. My breath hitched, my heart pounded, every hair stood on end, and every muscle in my body focused on the sole task of pretending I hadn't noticed. In front of me, something was just barely visible from behind my door frame. I couldn't see it clearly in my peripheral vision, but even an unfocused image was enough for me to know it wasn't human. From what was sticking out, the vague shape was similar to a person—part of a leg, a sliver of torso, a slightly too long arm—but it had no skin, at least not like ours. All I could tell was that it was dark. And it was tall enough for whatever it had for a head to disappear above the frame. It obviously hadn't been there when I walked in, and there was no sound or movement to indicate how it got there at all. I didn't know what to do. So I did nothing.

That moment feels like hours ago, even though I know from my phone's clock it was only a few minutes. But the constant overwhelming terror made every second agonizing. My eyes slide from the clock to my battery just in time for the percentage to hit zero. The air rushes from my lungs as the screen goes dark, and I'm left staring at my wide-eyed reflection. My hands begin shaking. Motion catches my attention, and I bite my tongue to stop my head from turning. From the top of the door frame, a dark shape starts to lower into view. Slowly, slowly, centimeters at a time. Tears prick my eyes. I bite my tongue harder. After an entire minute, I finally realize what I'm seeing in my restricted field of view.

Its head slides down far enough that its eyes peek out slightly under the top of the frame. The body never moved, so I can only imagine the unnatural length and angle of its neck to be in such a position. Even in fuzzy vision, the whites of its far too large eyes are obvious. I feel the pressure of its gaze as it watches me. Waiting. I don't want to find out what for. I mime a scrolling motion with my thumb, desperate to keep up my flimsy facade. I try to think of my options, but the buzzing adrenaline in my head is too much for me to bear. Then I blink, and it's gone.

I gasp as tears of relief fall down my cheeks. Hesitantly, I push past the twinge in my neck and dare to look out my door. Empty. I suck in a lungful of air and release a shaky breath.

My bed creaks.

I realize what's happening almost immediately, but it still isn't fast enough. I spent too long tensed, on edge and at high alert. The sudden relaxation made my body numb and useless, so even though I know what's coming, I'm helpless to resist my instincts any longer.

I glance below my bed.

I meet its eyes.

It smiles.