Gloom

I knew this was wrong. I knew I was wrong. The voice in my head was screaming that I had to get away from him. That he was not like me, or like anyone else. There was nothing like him. He wasn't an angel, and he wasn't a demon either.

It was both.

Light and darkness. Splendor and chaos. Harmony and destruction. He was a being who was in the middle of the two worlds, and at the same time he did not belong to either.

I should have walked away, but it was already too late. Her darkness was my downfall, and it was impossible for me not to burn in the flames of his Hell.

Suddenly open my eyes.

My lungs gasped for air as I scanned the darkness around me. My heart was pounding furiously against my ribs, ringing in my ears.

I sat up in bed. The suffocation I felt was so oppressive that sweat bathed my forehead and neck. I breathed a sigh of pure relief as soon as the heaviness of the drowsiness left me and I was able to recognize each piece of furniture, each object in the blackness of my room. I dropped my face into my hands.

It was just a dream , I said to myself.

Although I had been trying to convince myself of the same thing for almost a week. That none of this was real, that they were just nightmares. But the vivid images of those damned dreams urged me to believe otherwise.

It was always repeated: I was in some kind of strange desert, arid and without a soul around. The entire expanse of rocky, mountainous terrain was a deep reddish hue. The sky—also tinted a rare crimson—looked as if it were sunset, even though she couldn't find the sun, nor a single cloud. There was never anyone there with me, but even so, I had a very strange feeling, as if I was waiting for imminent danger. Then suddenly, the desert ground would begin to shake with terrifying intensity and then open up at my feet, and before I knew it, I was able to see countless long, thin, black limbs surrounding me, which seemed to be hands. …

I would wake up a second before they got to me.

I rubbed at my face and shook my head to banish that vision. I took a deep breath for a long moment, trying to get my heartbeat back to normal. I could still see the fear coursing through my veins.

I went straight to the bathroom in the hallway, the one in the middle of Anthony's—my brother—and mine's rooms. The cold water finally managed to cool me down a bit, and after managing to calm my pulse, I sighed tediously, realizing that it would take me a long time to fall asleep again. It wasn't just because of the nightmare; I was usually slow to fall asleep again if I woke up in the middle of the night. Because of that, by now I already had quite marked dark circles.

And also for  that  feeling. Something that he had already been perceiving for several days. The feeling that someone...

I shook my head. I didn't want to think about it now. He didn't feel like scaring me any more than I already was.

I refused to go back to my room, sensing that I was surely going to turn the nightmare over and over again, just as I had been doing for the past week. I went down to the first floor, trying not to make a sound as I stepped on the wooden stairs so as not to wake my family. I only turned on the lamp in the living room, and lay down on the sofa to find what to watch on television. I thought I could watch anything that would bore me for a while, anything as long as it made me want to go to sleep again. And to distract my thoughts from the shadowy vestiges of the nightmare.

I settled in by spreading my legs on the sofa, and regretted not having brought a blanket with me. Just as I also regretted not having a TV in my room. With the volume almost all the way down, I flipped between channels until I settled on a movie I was unfamiliar with, apparently a romance, and watched without real interest.

Go to sleep now , my conscience scolded me, almost with the voice of a mother. "Tomorrow at work you're going to walk around like a zombie if you keep going like this . "

I frowned. On the one hand, I was tired enough to fall asleep, but on the other, I couldn't shake the thought that if I went back to sleep, the nightmare would repeat itself. However, he had to try; she was a waitress, she served the public and she couldn't walk around sleepy because that would multiply the clumsiness that she possessed by nature.

I sighed.

The movie looked a bit old and the actors were unfamiliar to me, so it failed to grab my attention one iota. The good thing was that boredom was slowly making my eyelids heavy. If he kept up like this, he might be able to go back to sleep faster than he'd thought.

But then something in the atmosphere changed.

At that moment, a dreadful foreboding—unfortunately already familiar—overcame me completely. I suddenly felt something like an invisible weight behind me, which spread like a wave of ice through my entire system. My heartbeat began to accelerate.

It was that weird feeling when someone stares at you.

I looked around, even though I knew I hadn't woken anyone. I swallowed. I breathed in and out very slowly, convincing myself that she was alone. It was impossible for someone else to be there with me in the living room of my house, in the middle of the night.

I closed my eyes tight. This feeling was not new, at least not in recent days. The unpleasant feeling of being spied on had been with me more or less since the nightmares began. I had been feeling the same way for just over a week, as if, out of nowhere, someone I couldn't see started staring at me, regardless of the fact that she was alone.

Just like now.

I shook my head. I opened my eyes and, fighting against my frantic heartbeat and rapid breathing, I stood up. I was already nineteen years old, I couldn't be scared for believing that someone invisible was watching me in my home, just because I had the lights off and had a stupid nightmare. On the street it could be understandable, but not in the living room of my house at three in the morning.

I took the remote, aimed it, and pressed the off button, but it didn't react. I tried again, and then hit the device with my other hand. It didn't help either, surely the batteries had died. I growled throwing my head back, out of sheer frustration and exhaustion.

So I went over to the telly to do it manually. But then the TV started making some strange noises.

I froze.

The voices of the actors began to sound distorted and unintelligible. Vertical lines appeared all over the image, blurring it. Nothing like this had ever happened to me before. What was that? Was something interfering?

Suddenly, the screen went completely gray with black dots, and it screeched with that horrible noise when there is no programming. A light sheen of sweat formed on my forehead as an uncomfortable weight gripped my stomach.

It's okay , I convinced myself, even though I was about to cry with fear. «It is the signal, it is failing. That all. Nothing happens» .

I took the last few steps I had left to get to the damn thing and reached out to press the button, shaking. When it turned off, my heart stopped at the reflection of the black screen. The lump in my throat prevented me from screaming.

I turned around, but shock and confusion washed over me as I realized there was no one there. As? It was not possible: I was more than sure that I had managed to look at a huge dark figure, right behind me.

Without turning off the lamp, I left as fast as I could, straight to my room. I didn't even mind making noise going down the stairs.

I couldn't fall asleep for the rest of the night.

Seeing my reflection in the morning, I was seized with an unfathomable rage. The dark circles, dark and puffy, were marked intense under my eyes. The fatigue from not being able to sleep properly during the last days was already beginning to show on my face. What was I going to do to him? I never learned to put on makeup well enough to hide it. I sighed with resignation.

After waking up with the hot water from the shower, I went to eat something before going to work. Seeing my mom and brother up before me was not a surprise; he had to go to university and she must have woken up to make my dad breakfast and say goodbye to him. I had understood that he had to go to a conference in Seattle. As a lawyer, he used to travel often, sometimes he would take my mother with him, usually if the trip was going to be long and she didn't have any plans, but according to what he said now, he wouldn't be away for more than a couple of days. That made me feel a little nostalgic, because she used to kiss him goodbye at least.

My brother was installed at the table when I waved to him.

-What's up? —She asked, her eyes glued to the cell phone in her hands. Hey, were you hanging around last night? Dad said that when he got up the lamp was on and… Shit! He exclaimed, his eyes widening as he took in my face. Did you party or what?

I looked at him with a scowl face.

When Mom came over to where we were—carrying two plates of fried eggs, bacon, and pancakes—she too widened her eyes at me.

-Dear! she exclaimed in clear alarm. Are you OK? What happened?

"Yes, something happened. Something is happening to me» , I wanted to answer him. But she would have asked me for details, and then she would have blanked me out. Because what could she tell him? That she was having nightmares as a little girl and that she felt like I was being watched being home alone? My own mother would have thought she was starting to drive me crazy. And she had no desire to go to a psychiatrist.

I shook my head, giving him a smile.

"I just had a bad night," I lied.

His brown eyes studied my face carefully, but finally he just nodded and sat down next to us. I ignored how my brother joked that he looked like a raccoon, and silently gobbled down my breakfast until I finished it. Before I left, I asked my mother if she had any sleeping pills. I hadn't considered that option before because I've always hated taking pills, but I just couldn't take it anymore.

I felt too tired.

Anthony left the house at the same time as me. I had to admit that I looked at him with some envy when I saw him drive off in his shiny red jeep to Portland State University. Although I also knew how to drive, but when our parents offered us each a car I declined because I felt it was a ridiculously huge expense, considering that the only place I went to was work. My brother, on the other hand, had a very active social life and, therefore, he would need it more. At times like this, when I didn't want to take public transportation, he regretted it. Sometimes he used to believe that most of the decisions he made in life were wrong.

I shuffled along the sidewalk until I reached the bus stop for  Monette's Coffee , the place where I worked. I would have loved to get some sleep on the way, but the journey wasn't that long and I was afraid to pass by. Even if I got up earlier, I could get there on foot; but it would mean cutting down on my sleep and that was the last thing I wanted right now.

The moment I walked through the glass door of the cafeteria, which with its unusual appearance of brick walls adorned with abstract paintings, with all the tables and chairs completely different from each other including some armchairs, pretended to be boyish, Diana —my co-worker and my best friend—she trotted up from the farthest corner to greet me.

-Hey! she exclaimed, in that high-pitched voice of hers that could cheer anyone up. You're killing with those dark circles and all, huh? What happened? Didn't you sleep well?

I frowned.

"Killing?" I asked.

I turned my back on her and she tied the little black apron we were supposed to wear around my waist, without my asking.

-Oh yeah! Her,” she squealed, excited for some reason. Who was that? Where do you know him from? Why haven't you told me about him?

What the hell? I looked at her strangely, feeling a pang of concern.

"Whose, Diana?"

"That boy, dammit!" He.” He made an exasperated gesture with his hands. The one that came after you. Where did he go? Why didn't he go in with you?

I widened my eyes. When she saw my expression, her emotion changed until she turned pale.

"But if… he…" Her voice trailed off and then, very serious, she added in a stern tone, "Shit, check your bag."

He?

As fast as I could, I grabbed my bag that had been hanging on the rack and opened it, ignoring him. At that moment, Jade, another classmate, arrived with a curious expression.

“Hello, girls. What happened to you, Amy? Her, she questioned when she saw me desperately scrutinizing my belongings.

"Looks like he was robbed," Diana answered for me.

"Oh no, God," she said in an anguished tone. Are you OK?

But that was not true. There was everything he had of value; my cell phone, some money and my personal documents. I wasn't even missing my headphones.

"Nothing happened," I warned hastily, so as not to continue making a scandal. I have everything.

"But it's just…" Diana murmured, frowning in bewilderment. I swear I saw someone very close to you, I thought she was with you.

I shook my head.

"N-don't worry, Dee," I replied, a little nervous now. Maybe you dress badly. And I'm not missing anything, so everything is fine.

"I know what I saw," she persisted, brushing her auburn hair back in a haughty gesture. And today I'm going to drop you off at your house, in case something happens to you. Her,” she spoke with a tone that an older sister would, even though we were the same age.

"Amy, are you sure you're okay?" Jade wanted to know, looking at me with a concerned expression. you are pale

I pursed my lips and shrugged.

"All right, seriously, don't worry. I tried to say it in the most pleasant tone possible. One, because I hated being the center of attention and there were already other classmates looking at us strangely; and two, because I wanted very badly to change the subject quickly, before continuing to scare me even more.

I gave them both a smile, but they kept looking at me like I was a freak. Although the truth was that at this point in my life I was used to being that wherever I was.

After a couple of hours, I forgot about the incident with the man Diana said. I convinced myself that it was nothing and that she just saw someone very close to me. However, when I asked her to explain what he looked like, she could only tell me that she couldn't see her face because he was wearing a black hood.

That worried me more than it already was.

The rest of my day passed like any other, enduring the different moods of the people who came to serve the coffee, accepting bad tips and having to put up with everything without complaining, forced to be in a good mood and with a smile for the rest of the world. That's usually how this job was.

About halfway through the day, the place began to receive a lot of younger boys and girls, and Mr. Warburton, my boss, informed us that he would celebrate his daughter's birthday there in the cafeteria. I tried to put on a good face, because I really didn't like teenagers very much. It wasn't to be bitter—well, I used to be thought of that at times—but even when I was younger I couldn't fit in with them. Most of them were talking about banalities or as if they knew a lot about life, playing practical jokes among themselves and others, and none of it ever managed to attract me.

Out of habit, between closing and cleaning, we used to leave a little out of time after eight. But with the mess that the boys left, we took longer than necessary. So when we finally closed, it was already quite late. Still, it was a Saturday and, as my classmates tended to do at least once a month, they decided they too wanted their own celebration at a bar.

Jade gave me a furtive glance as I finished getting ready.

"Amy, are you going?" — She invited me.

I smiled at him and shook my head, as kindly as I could muster. If neither she nor Diana invited me to any event outside of work, no one else at the café did. Sometimes I thought my classmates didn't like me very much, although the truth was that I hadn't made an effort to be friendlier to any of them either. I was just used to people seeing me as too introverted to be fun, and even a little weird, to fit in more deeply.

-I'm sort of tired.

"Yes, you can tell." He put a hand on my shoulder, trying to be gentle. Relax, she goes to rest. See you on Monday.

And he returned with the group that was already beginning to move away.

-That? protested Diana, who could hear us. Why do not you go? Come on, don't be boring.

"I'm exhausted, really. I waved my hand to dismiss it. Next time I swear I'll go. Have fun.

I was lying, actually. My father had always instilled in me how bad it was to go to bars and drink alcohol before the age of twenty-one, and it was not in my plans to disobey him.

"You never go," he reproached me.

"Next time, I promise." I prayed that she wouldn't see the lie on my face.

"But you'll go home alone."

"It's okay," I soothed her, patting her shoulder. She pouted, her pale green eyes looking at me longingly. She wrapped her arms around me, and in response, I awkwardly returned the gesture. Showing physical affection wasn't my forte. Go, calm down. I'll be fine.

He released me and walked quickly to join the rest.

"Text me when you get home!" "She yelled at me from afar.

I raised one arm, thumbs up in approval, and headed down the opposite side of the street.

The minutes it took me to excuse myself cost me the last bus. Out of sheer rage I almost threw a tantrum on the sidewalk, because I was exhausted and this wasn't helping me. I convinced myself that the way home was not that long, and I began to walk with long strides. I was kicking stones in an attempt to appease my annoyance, in which I looked every minute if a taxi was approaching, but of the three that passed, none paid attention to me.

Not your day , a voice murmured in my head.

I took comfort in the fact that it wasn't that late and that at least there were still a lot of people on the streets, although most of them were adults who came out tired from work just like me, or young people who were lost in their cell phones or talking to their Group of friends. I couldn't help but wonder that if something bad happened, at least one of those people would dare to help me?

At that very moment, while I was rambling, a tingling sensation began to grow on my back. That horrible feeling already so familiar.

The presentiment of a gaze fixed on me.

"Not again..." I whispered to myself, anguish on the surface.

I looked around for whoever was watching me, but the people passing by on the street didn't pay me the slightest attention.

«Nobody looks at you. Nobody looks at you. Nobody is looking at you» , I repeated several times in my head.

Take a breath. It had to be my imagination, there could be no other explanation. However, lately this feeling was already so familiar to me that deep down I knew that this was not true.

I could n't   be imagining it.

The strange tingling spread up my entire spine. Then, I felt every single hair on my body stand on end. I scanned the street again, then the apartment windows, seeing no one in particular.

I quickened my pace when I saw that I began to be left alone on the next sidewalk. I looked behind me for the umpteenth time, to check that there was no one, and then I saw him.

A tall, broad-shouldered man with an athletic build, dressed entirely in black, was walking several meters behind me.

Fear gripped every part of me.

"He's not following you ," I tried to reassure myself. "He's just a stranger... walking down the same street . "

I continued to stride forward, unable to take the panic away from me. I opted to change to the opposite direction of the road, and I did it without even checking if any vehicle was coming. Looking back almost immediately and noticing that the boy was gone, I sighed. I deduced that he must have taken another route. But, out of sheer instinct, I turned my head away from me, only to notice that he had switched streets with me.

And that it was even closer.

My heart skipped a beat when I saw that almost the moment I stopped, he did too. The blood left my face at that moment looking at how, I swear to God, under that black hood that hid most of his face, a small smile spread.

For a second I had the urge to go face him, hit him with my bag or yell for help. But there was something about him, something that emanated from him that made just looking at him terrify me.

Without thinking twice, I started running.

I never looked back. I ran keeping in mind that I had to escape, and not fall in the attempt. My lungs burned as they demanded more oxygen, but I still didn't have the courage to check to see if he was still following me. Could not. Panic prompted me to continue running.

I was panting, my chest aching, and the muscles in my legs burning when I stopped in my front yard. Only then did I get up the courage to look back again, only to realize that no one was there anymore. I searched for him with my eyes, turning my head in both directions of the street, but the area was desolate.

However, I could still feel that there  was  another person there besides me. She had no idea where, or how, but somehow she knew.

Despair began to wreak havoc in my chest, causing a painful oppression. My breathing calmed little by little, but my heart continued to beat wildly and furiously against my ribs. I couldn't handle this anymore.

Who was that man? Why was he following me? Why had I been feeling watched day and night for a week already? Even in my own house, by God!

This sensation could not be real, it was not possible! But then why didn't he leave? Or was there something wrong with me? Something wrong with my mind? I held my head in my hands, feeling somewhat dizzy. I clenched my jaw so hard my teeth ached. Tears of sheer helplessness and despair spilled from my eyes, but I bit my lip to keep from letting out any sobs.

I couldn't anymore. Paranoia had settled in my brain and seemed to want to stay there forever. Could it be that he was losing his sanity? Was it possible that it was all part of my imagination? There was no doubt that there was no one around me. But then why did I keep feeling this way?

I wiped away my tears with the back of my hand. She didn't want them to find out at home that she had cried. I couldn't submit to anyone's questioning, especially if I couldn't explain how I felt without them thinking I'd lost my mind.

I crossed the garden and the portico until I passed through the front door. My mother was sitting on the couch, her face almost glued to her cell phone, when she saw me and jumped up.

"Amy!" She sighed herself.

-Hi Mom.

"It's good that you're here, darling. I was beginning to worry. I tried not to let her see her face, but she did anyway. She frowned. Are you okay, daughter? How was she today?

I forced a smile.

"It was a bit heavy, I'm tired," I replied with a voice hoarse from crying. I tried changing the subject to throw her off the track. "Did you call Daddy?"

She gave a start and smiled before starting to tell me about him. My mother used to be easily distracted.

As was the custom on most Saturdays, Anthony was out. It was just my mom and me. She asked me again during dinner if she was alright, to which I lied again, answering yes. It was already obvious even to my family that I was feeling overwhelmed, but I couldn't let him worry about something I couldn't explain to him. For something I didn't understand myself.

I wanted to make sure all the windows in the house were shut tight, but it didn't do much good since that feeling, as if there was someone out there waiting for me, didn't go away for the rest of the night.

Before going to bed, Mom gave me the sleeping pills that I had asked for in the morning.

"I don't want you to stay up late," he ordered me severely and tenderly at the same time. You look very tired.

I gave him a forced smile and nodded. Actually, I had planned to take the damn pills and go to bed right away.

"Thanks, mom, don't worry," I said as I lost sight of her on the stairs.

I returned my attention to the TV screen, trying unsuccessfully to understand what it was broadcasting. I was supposed to be safe in my home, but I still couldn't feel that I was.

I remembered that Diana had asked me to let her know when I arrived, so I took my cell phone out of my bag. Turning on the screen, I saw two missed calls from my friend. I didn't have the courage to call her to give her a chance to scold me, so I sent her an apology message. It was at that moment that I realized:  The boy , Diana had said. The one with the black hood that she saw herself this morning, behind me.

I shuddered, feeling fear coursing through my veins. I didn't mention it to her, because I decided that would only worry her more. I left the cell phone silent, to avoid feeling guilty for not answering the complaint calls from the part of her that I knew would come, and lay back on the sofa.