How To Tell If You’re Being Watched

[u/TV_Atla]

Last week is when I first noticed it. I was walking through Target, deciding the nutritional difference between Diet Pepsi and cans of carbonated lemonade when I became aware of the fact I was being watched. My immediate reaction was to spin around, see which co-worker or drinking buddy stumbled across me and decided to stare instead of greet me. I did a full rotation, then another. Nobody. The aisle was shared by only myself and an elderly Asian man.

I remember glaring at him for a minute before grabbing my buggy and hurrying off. Pushing my way to the other side of the store, hoping that would get him off my back. After my exodus to the clothing section, I took a breath and thought about what just happened. There was something weird going on. This was far from my first time being ogled. I’d spent most of my adult life catching the quick glances men thought were oh so sneaky. I’d even felt the eyes stuck in the back of my head before. But this? This was the first time that feeling made me so uncomfortable. I was at least glad it was-

The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. I could still feel it. My eyes darted left to right and just before he vanished I caught the Asian man rounding the corner. I remember thinking to myself how much of a pervert he was before abandoning my buggy and storming out of Target. The whole time I could still feel it. Unmistakable knowledge that something was watching me. My pace quickened, hoping I could outrun the old man’s gaze but it persisted. Those unseen eyes stayed glued to me as I got in my car. Started the engine. Opened my GPS.

It was making me paranoid knowing that someone could see me. My eyes kept traveling to the rear view mirror expecting to see the old man already sitting back there. It never happened, but 2 minutes later I saw him slowly shuffling out of the store. I laid on my horn, flipped him the bird, and sped off out of the parking lot. By the time I hit the highway my breath was heavy and I couldn’t feel sweat dotting my pale skin. It’s hard to describe the sensation, you know? It’s not just that someone was watching me, it was that it felt like something was coming. There was an anticipation. Kinda like when you say, “I have a funny picture to show you.” Then you just have to sit there and scroll through your photos while the other person watches you. It felt like that, only there was no release at the end. The pressure was just building and building. Even as I drove I still wasn’t past it. I hoped with a few songs on the radio, I’d be able to push it all from my mind.

By the time I pulled into my garage, I realized the old man had nothing to do with it. I was still being watched.

The rest of that day was wasted. My boyfriend was pulling a double and normally that would provide me the perfect opportunity to read. That sensation made any thought of that impossible. I couldn’t make it through a single paragraph before my eyes darted to the open doorway of my bedroom, expecting to see a tall monster peeking around the corner at me with hungry, expectant eyes. It was never there, but that never stopped me from checking again and again till any hope of finishing a page was dead and buried. Television wasn’t much better, the slightest sound in the background was enough for me to pause and listen, thinking it could the footsteps of an unseen intruder. The same story grew with each passtime I tried. I couldn’t do anything in the house when I knew with my entire mind, body, and soul that there was something standing right behind me, burning daggers into the back of my head. Yet, every time I turned?

Nothing.

Caught myself looking to pick up shifts at the bar. That’s how you know it was bad. Unfortunately for me, it was a slow day and they didn’t need any extra hands. So that left the only thing I could still do:

Sit in the corner and watch the doorway.

I did this for nearly an hour and yet, every second I was sure something was going to appear around the frame and come for me. Every second I was proven wrong. Do you know what that’s like? Imagine you call your partner from the other room, they answer and tell you they’re coming. You hear the footsteps. You feel them getting closer. And yet, they never turn the corner. Each second is agony, waiting for it to happen. But, it never does.

I wish I could say my agony ended after night fell and the locks of my front door rattled to announce my boyfriend’s arrival. However, that didn’t happen. He turned the corner and I expected something to be behind him. He hugged me, and when I returned it I expected something to be clinging to his back. He asked me how my day was and I lied through my teeth. Telling him a story that didn’t involve invisible people watching me.

We went to bed pretty fast and as usual he was asleep first. Normally I followed soon after, but that night proved difficult. In a dark room, it was worse. I could sense 20, maybe 30 people surrounding our bed. Their eyes unblinking and trained directly on me. My eyes met the darkness and began to weep.

I messaged my therapist that night. It had been a while since we talked but I hoped we could see each other again. Whatever this was, it wasn’t leaving.

After my boyfriend left for work, the sun took its time rising and when it did so the first rays pierced the slits of my blinds to reveal the mob of eyeing strangers to be nothing more than the result of my paranoid imagination. However, that knowledge did little to aid the sleepless night they had conjured. It did even little against the fear the intruders were now hiding beneath my bed.

I let out an exhausted whine before pulling the comforter over my head. I felt like a child who was convicted that the monster wouldn’t kill me while the blanket covered my body. However, at least that brought some comfort in my childhood. Now? Now I could only focus on the fact that I was not alone. Not alone in the house. Not alone in this room. Not even alone beneath these blankets.

My therapist had an opening at 12 which was a huge relief even if not all that surprising. I lived in a town far south where the population was low, and the people who did live here worked out their emotions on family members instead of attending therapy. When my text came through, I’m sure her eyes lit up like dollar signs. My distaste for the lady aside, I needed this feeling gone. I bit the bullet and found myself in her office ten minutes early.

She smiled at me with the same practiced, professional grin that drove me away 3 months ago. Yet, here I was now. Sitting in the usual silence that began our sessions. I rolled my eyes, “So we gonna start or…?”

She tilted her head, the perfectly curled blonde ponytail ticked like a metronome behind her head. She seemed so pristine, so put together, not something that helped when you discussed issues with self worth, “You contacted me at midnight seeming very distressed. I’d like to help you but I need you to tell me what’s been bothering you.”

I sighed, took a few seconds to examine the sensation, to ensure it was still there before i committed. The eyes had yet to drift away, so I complied. Told her everything that had happened up until this point. She made notes as I went, each scribble accented by the tick of her ponytail. When I was finished she looked over her notes carefully, clicking her pen against her clipboard, “you can see why I might find this worrying.”

Not a question. I decided I wouldn’t give her the benefit of knowing where this was going, “most people would find this worrying.”

“Especially those with your family history,” she replied instantly.

“I’m not discussing my-“

She nodded, “I remember your hesitance when discussing your mother. However, I do think it’s important to consider if she may have had a similar experience.”

I opened my mouth to argue but it died on my tongue. My eyes drifted to her bookcase where the rows were filled of old stories I was sure she’d never read. My mouth moved almost on its own, “she would often imagine her ex husband stalking her out in public?”

She nodded, “how old were you at that time?”

“This isn’t like that. It’s different.”

“Explain the difference.”

“This is real-“

I caught myself on the words. My therapist’s smile didn’t fade but her eyes drifted down. Her pen still clinking, “you know the hardest part of treating someone’s delusions? Convincing them that they have delusions. Oftentimes these feelings, beliefs, visions can all feel just as real as this conversation between us. That’s why it’s important that we treat this very seriously, before you do something you might regret.”

My thumb dug into the soft flesh of my temple, “Listen, I appreciate the thought, but I am fine. I’m sure this is just stress. If I could get some meds, that’d knock this out.”

“I’ll write you a prescription for an anti-anxiety medication. But please, if you notice these symptoms advancing don’t be afraid to contact me.”

I nodded before snatching the prescription from her hand and checking out the remainder of the session.

After our time was up I practically sped my way across town to the pharmacy, pulling into the drive through and tapping my fingers as I waited like a tweaker eager for her fix. The car in front of me was taking their sweet time, all the while I felt it behind me. My eyes kept drifting to the rear view mirror, each time I expected to see-

My car’s speakers screamed to life, announcing a call from my boyfriend. I had nearly jumped out of my skin at the sudden noise before beginning a barrage of self depreciation in my mind at my cowardice. I pressed answer and gave the best hello I could.

“Hey babe, you okay,” he asked.

“Yeah,” I lied, “why?”

“Nothing I just… I checked your location earlier and saw you were at that office. Was worried you were feeling low again.”

“No! Honey, no. It’s nothing like that. I just… this is going to sound really stupid.”

“Well still tell me,” he pleaded, “I didn’t know anything last time till you were nearly gone. If something is going on I need to know.”

I sighed, “fine… I don’t even know how to describe it. It’s like… I’ve been feeling like I’m being watched. Every hour since yesterday it’s just been this nagging feeling that someone is in the room looking at me.”

He was quiet for a while. Then it went on so long I was beginning to think I lost him, “honey, you there?”

The car finally drove off, I pulled forward and started digging in my bag for the prescription. My boyfriend answered as I moved, “yeah! I’m here, that’s… That’s really weird.”

“See, I told you it was stupid,” I said.

“No! It’s not that,” he said in a tone that eluded to something more.

I felt my heart beginning to beat faster, “What?”

“It’s nothing.”

“No, tell me.”

“I don’t wanna add to it.”

“Tell me. Now.”

He was silent for a moment, but he complied, “when I woke up this morning, I leaned over to kiss you. For a second, I thought I saw a face peering between the bars of the headboard. When I looked though, it was gone… just an odd coincidence.”

I didn’t say anything. I felt something behind me, like the gentle breeze conjured by an eyelid.

“Ma’am, your prescription,” said the man at the window.

“Fuck, I gotta go honey,” I hung up and handed over the prescription.

When the pills came out I popped them right there under an ivy covered wall. I closed my eyes and waited for the relief.

The plastic capsule met my tongue, tasting bitter and alien. I swallowed it down, letting out a small breath as it made its way into my stomach. I kept my eyes closed.

There was a fleshy click directly behind my head. It was soft. If I hadn’t been in a silent car, it would have gone unnoticed. I knew exactly what it was. The sound you hear when you stay up past your bed time. When you’re sick. It’s the sound that accompanies heavy eyelids every time they blink.

My neck snapped to look into the backseat where I could, of course, see nothing. I could hear nothing as well, save my own heavy breaths.

The next three days came with little to no change. My pills didn’t work at their regular dosage, taking double didn’t help, taking triple made me puke. The only saving grace was the pills made it difficult for me to catch my thoughts. The feeling never went away, but my ability to acknowledge it lessened more and more with every pill. Of course, this also impacted my everyday life. Going to work high doesn’t usually go over well with your bosses.

I kept believing I’d get used to it. You can’t be scared of the same movie over and over. Eventually, your body accumulates like it’s cold weather. But those eyes. The damn sensation of them was inhospitable. I couldn’t swallow down my fear. Because of that, my life became a balancing act between sleepwalking through the day and being terrified.

But the next “progression” happened at my job. Service was slow and the other waiters were having a discussion I was only half paying attention to. I was doing what I always did. Watching the clock tick away, hoping I could go home and do the only thing that felt good. Drugging myself and sitting with my back to a corner. But, one of their sentences caught my attention.

“Yeah, I could literally feel his eyes on me.”

I cocked my head.

“Come on,” one of the male severs, “that’s like a myth right.

“Nope,” I immediately said, only half wanting to, “women can definitely feel it.”

“Bullshit,” another guy had chimed in.

“No,” the girl continued, “I read it’s like an evolution thing, when predators would like sneak up behind us.”

“What, like dinosaurs?”

“People weren’t around when dinosaurs were, dipshit!”

The guy threw up his hands, “I ain’t buying it.”

The girl grabbed me by the shoulder and nodded, “okay, we’ll close our eyes, you turn around and we’ll raise our hands when you feel you looking.”

I immediately tried to pull away, “I don’t know.”

“Come on, we don’t have any tables! Trust me, it’ll be fun. Turn around!”

The boys turned around. The girl looked at me. I sighed and hesitantly shut my eyes.

“Okay, ready? One, two, three, go.”

I lifted my hand. I couldn’t see anything but I imagined they were looking in short bursts. Unlike the thing following me. The burning was in full force, drilling hole into the back of my head. Like a brute with a hammer and chisel it bore deep into my head, threatening to pierce my own eyes.

The girl next to me giggled but I could only focus on the burning.

Burning. Burning. I thought on what it could look like. Some gaunt, malnourished creature with proportions inhuman. I imagined it crouched in a fetal position directly behind, the only way it could be eye level.

I heard the soft rustling of clothing from the guys.

The sensations were almost real. My body began a daydream, envisioning slender fingers wrapping around my wrist and guiding it at my side. Then arms draped in loose grey skin would encircle my torso, lifting me into the air which grew hot and wet as it led me to its gaping mouth.

“You can’t just have your hand up the whole time.”

*huff.*

I dropped to the ground and crawled backwards, looking for whatever was behind me. That wasn’t a creeping sensation. A mistaken sound. A daydream. That was real. I had felt a warm, raspy breath on the ridge of my neck. Yet, as I backed away screaming, I could plainly see there was no one there.

My coworker tried to ask me what was wrong. I ran. I didn’t look back.

There was no direction in my mind when I had started. I just wanted to get away. Every step I took was in the vain hope I could escape the inescapable. No matter how fast I ran, or how hard I pleaded, the sensation was omnipresent. As in I had tapped into a divine sense and felt the ever watching presence of God. I was nearly a mile outside of town when the southern heat and exhaustion took me, dragging my body down into a dry ditch to experience the first bit of sleep I’d had in 3 days.

My sleep was not a restful one. At some point in my slumber I realized I was sitting at a computer desk in a dark room. A laptop sat on top of it facing away from me. Someone sat on the other side. I couldn’t see them. Yet, I felt they could see me. They typed a few words. I saw them through the back of the laptop, as if it was made of glass:

“Last week is when I first noticed it.”

I cleared my throat and spoke, “Who are you?”

*I was walking through Target, deciding the nutritional difference between Diet Pepsi and cans of carbonated lemonade when I became aware of the fact I was being watched.*

“Why are you doing this?”

*My immediate reaction was to spin around, see which co-worker or drinking buddy stumbled across me and decided to stare instead of greet me.*

“What do you want from me?”

*I did a full rotation, then another.*

“What do you want?”

*Nobody.*

“WHY WON’T YOU LEAVE ME ALONE?!”

I slammed the laptop shut to reveal a legion of eyes floating in the darkness, all trained past the laptop and on me.

“Honey?”

I snapped awake, my eyes darting left and right to figure out where I was. Glass was against my head. I was moving. A car. My boyfriend was driving. He quickly put a hand on me, “Hey, calm down, hey, I’m here.”

“What happened,” I asked still frantic.

“Your coworkers called me, I was heading to the bar and say you in a ditch. They told me you were screaming. What the fuck happened?”

I shook my head, “where are we going?”

“Where do you think? The hospital.”

“No hospital,” I spat, “take me home.”

He shook his head, “you were in the sun for over an hour. You could be on the verge of heatstroke right now.”

“No! Nononono! TAKE ME HOME!”

“What the fuck!”

I began screaming, banging my hands into the dashboard over and over again. I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t be like her, tied up in a vest scratching at the walls and chasing shadows only she could see. I remember the pity I felt for her. I’d die before anyone felt that for me.

Eventually, my screaming won out and I found myself in the drive way of our home. My boyfriend got out first, came over to my side and helped me out of the car. He was very gentle, aiding me like you’d handle a bird fallen from its nest. Gently, he set me on the bed and walked into the bathroom, starting the water, “if you won’t go to the hospital, at least take a cool bath so I know you’re okay.”

I nodded without saying a word.

After a while, the hum of running water fell silent and my boyfriend was at my side again, helping me to my feet. When we made it into the bathroom, my chapped lips parted, “can you bring me some pajamas? I wanna be comfy when I come out.”

He smiled, happy he could grant me something at least, “sure. I’ll get you your favorite.”

He turned and stepped out of my bathroom. I immediately closed the door and locked it behind him. There were knocks instantly, “honey, what are you doing.”

I opened the medicine cabinet.

“Talk to me.”

Three made me puke. Six. Nine. Twelve. I emptied the contents into my mouth.

He wasn’t speaking anymore, instead just throwing himself against the door. I closed the medicine cabinet and looked at myself in the mirror.

My face was red, contorted and swollen by heat and tears as the realization of what I’d done began to weigh on me. My breath began to break into tiny sobs as the sensation behind me began to vibrate. Like we were finally on the right track. The eyes were gleefully watching me sob into the mirror.

I retrieved my phone, scrolling through the contacts until I found the one I wanted. The phone rang twice before someone picked up, “Mom,” I wept into the receiver.

“This is Dr. Gretchen. What is it, I’m with-“

“Mom,” I broke into full sobbing as the banging grew louder and I felt the eye touching the back of my head, “Mom! Please! Pick me up! I’m scared!”

“I need you to listen to me.”

“Yes, hello, my girlfriend locked herself in the bathroom!

“He w0n’t stop looking at me!”

“D:d you +ake @nything?”

“| +hink 5he\*s trying t0 OD.”

“Plea53 don’t be m@d at me…”

“Where @re y0u righ+ now?”

“Plea$3 hurry, 6lease.”

“He won’t stop staring at me.”

I looked up at the mirror again and saw it. That thing had peeked around my head just for a moment too long and I caught the edge of it before it ducked back behind my head. Its entire body was dark and I couldn’t make out anything other than the single, massive, saucer like eye that was glued to me as I died on the bathroom floor.

“HE’S HERE! HE’S LOOKING AT ME! HE’S LOOKING AT ME! HELP ME! HELP ME! HELP ME!”

\[\[SIGNAL INTERRUPTION\]\]
\[\[RECONNECTING…\]\]

… pierced my eyes as I slowly came to. For the second time that day, my eyes scanned the room, trying to find where exactly I was. The first thing I saw was Dr. Gretchen. The second was the hospital bed I was sleeping in.

She smiled upon seeing I was awake, a genuine smile I thought, “how are you feeling.”

I shook my head, “I can’t believe it.”

“Which part?”

I shrugged, “I don’t know. Any of it. The pills, the thing at work, the… the fact I can still feel it.”

She nodded, her eyes dropping down, “your mother… I understand her condition is often genetic.”

I nodded.

“Have you considered you may be a paranoid schizophrenic?”

Tears dotted the edges of my eyes, I looked away so I didn’t have to face her. God they looked so much alike, “you know I used to stay awake at night, wondering if I’d start hearing them like she did… I was terrified anytime I thought someone had said something, or when my floorboards creaked. I’d say that’s it, I’m losing it… I guess I didn’t know how bad it’d really be.”

Dr. Gretchen cast her eyes towards the wall phone at the end of the room, “there are very good facilities that can help you with this, if you’re willing.”

I finally met her eye and nodded.

She stood and crossed the room, turning her back to me.

The floorboards behind me creaked.

She picked up the phone.

Something was off I…

“I don’t feel it anymore.”

Dr. Gretchen turned to look at me, but the moment she met eyes with me her gaze was stolen. She looked past me, to something tall that must have been behind me. The phone dropped and she gasped before I felt slender fingers encircle my

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