I don’t like to be in my room at night anymore, especially not alone. It’s scary; I don’t like that thing watching me.
The first time that I saw it was when I had to sleep in our guest room. My bed’s mattress was messed up with a big dip in it so my dad told me to sleep in the guest room to avoid messing up my back. To be honest, I didn’t really want to. For some reason that room had always freaked me out, probably because it didn’t have any curtains or blinds to put over the window.
Ever since I was a kid I’ve been afraid of sleeping with the window open. I always had this thought that someone would watch me as I slept, and that terrified me to no end. So I definitely didn’t want to sleep in a room like that with a window right by the bed that had no shades or curtains.
But I decided to anyway because I don’t like the thought of my fears controlling me. It only took one, “Why, are you scared?” from my dad and I decided to sleep in that horrible room. You see, I like to think of myself as brave, facing my fears, watching scary movies (which is probably why I had so many phobias in the first place). But to be honest, I’m far from bravery; or I am now anyways.
I went to sleep facing away from the window with my blanket up to my chin, trying to cover up as much of myself as possible. I almost slept with the lights on before common sense told me that it’d just be easier for someone to see me. My insomnia wasn’t any better with my paranoia, but eventually I fell asleep.
Of course I just had to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night. If I didn’t drink all that water before I went to bed, then I might still be okay. But unfortunately I did, and as I gazed at the door, trying to make myself get out of the bed to go, I heard… something. It was barely there, but it sounded like whispers.
I don’t know what they were saying, if they were saying anything. They belonged somewhere in one of the scary movies I liked to torture myself with so much. All I knew is that they were coming from the window, and that was enough to have me frozen in fear.
I didn’t want to look at the window because I knew, I just knew, that something was staring at me. I could feel their eyes on my back, sending chills up my spine. I didn’t want to get up to go to the bathroom and let them know I was awake, but I couldn’t stay like that when I knew something was there. I mean, what’s the first impulse when something like that happens?
It’s exactly what I did, I spun around to see if I was right. And to my complete horror I was. It wasn’t a person. It looked like one, maybe a little too pale and bony, but its eyes weren’t right. They were pure white, like someone had erased their irises, and they had some sort of… eerie glow. I wouldn’t think it’d be able to see anything, with those blank eyes, but I knew it could see me. It was staring right at me.
I didn’t scream, I don’t know why. I would have thought that I’d scream when something like that happened, but I just got up and backed up towards the door, making sure to keep it in sight so it didn’t move (I’ve heard of things like this, one blink and it’s suddenly inside with me). Its eyes followed me the whole time, and I got out, slamming the door behind me.
The feeling of being watched finally disappeared. I was thinking about going downstairs to tell my dad so he that could get his gun. He always told me to tell him if something like that happened, but the thought of going by any open windows terrified me. No way was I going to. I’d tell him tomorrow, for now I’d go sleep in my room, where all of the shades are nice and drawn.
So I did exactly that, savoring the feeling of my far from comfortable bed for once and tried to go back to sleep. I couldn’t, I don’t know if it was paranoia, but I still felt that thing’s eyes on me, those cold and emotionless, blank eyes. I glanced around my room several times, and thankfully nothing was there, but I thought I saw two little white glows through my window shades.
Impossible, you can’t see through those, I thought. Sure, they were a little transparent, and the light got through some, but all of my lights are off. I kept telling myself that nothing was there, but I knew it was there. I knew it could see me. There was no way I could sleep, I was way too scared. I had to know. It was stupid, but I had to know if it was there.
So I crept up to the window, took a deep breath to try and calm my frazzled nerves and yanked the shade up. My hand froze with my body telling me to yank them back down because I was now faced to face with that horrible thing. Only a thin panel of glass was separating us. But its blank eyes froze me in place, and its face didn’t change at all, but the feeling of no emotion changed into one of sick amusement.
I could hear the whispers better, almost enough to make out what they were saying, “It’s a pretty thing…such beautiful [blank]…you could almost [something, something, something]…pretty…” I don’t know what else it said (I don’t even know if it was it talking, its mouth wasn’t moving after all) because it suddenly threw its face against the window, making me jump back and drop the shades. I heard more banging and…laughter. God, it was actually enjoying this.
That was it, I couldn’t stay here any longer, and I ran out of my room all the way downstairs to my parents’ bedroom. And every single window I passed, it was there, staring at me with its blank eyes.
I pounded on my parents’ door, “Dad! Dad, there’s something outside!” I opened the door and shook his shoulder, “Dad!”
He stirred and grumbled, “Anna, it’s the middle of the night, for christsakes.”
“Get your gun, there’s something outside!”
He must have heard the terror in my voice because he got up right away and grabbed the pistol he kept on his nightstand. “Where is it?” he asked.
“Outside the window.”
He told me to stay there, and he’d be right back. I waited a while but I didn’t hear any gunshots. I didn’t hear anything except my heart pounding so hard I’d think it’s trying to get out. Luckily, my parents’ room didn’t have any windows, just double doors that led out to the sun room. My mom was still sleeping, and I didn’t want to wake her up because I knew that she had trouble sleeping too. So I just stood there in silence waiting for Dad to come back. I waited for about ten minutes before I decided something was wrong.
I slowly opened the door, “Dad?” I called for him with a whisper. There was no answer. I didn’t want to go on, but I swallowed my fear, knowing I would be a coward if I did nothing. I moved out of the room a little and called for him again.
I walked out into the living room and saw the door open. My eyes grew wide in terror. That thing could be inside now. I choked on a sob and called for him again, moving to get a look outside the wide open door. I was met with the thing standing right outside, staring at me, now with nothing separating us. I quickly closed and locked the door, not even giving a thought to whether or not Dad was still outside.
I let out a whimper and stumbled backwards until my back hit someone and I spun around, hoping it was Dad.
It wasn’t. It was another one of those things wearing Dad’s skin. “D-dad?” I still called out to it, but it just stared at me with those blank eyes. Tears welled in my eyes,
“Daddy?”
There was no answer, it wasn’t my dad anymore. Dad was dead. I started sobbing, “Daddy.” The whole time its blank eyes stared at me, eyes that were now where Dad’s eyes used to be. It leaned towards me, and I backed up.
“Go back to sleep,” it said in my dad’s voice, but the words came out twisted and much scarier than even the whispering.
I ran up to my room without a second thought and locked myself in. I piled everything I could find against the door, turned on the lights, and dove into my bed, burying my head under the covers. I sobbed until morning, crying for the loss of my dad. I still felt its eyes on me, but I didn’t look this time. I knew for sure it was watching me anyway.
The next day I woke up, hoping it was only a terrible nightmare. Of course, I was still in my room with the lights on and everything piled up against my door, but I was willing to overlook that in the hopes that I was just…sleepwalking?
I went out to the kitchen. Mom was making breakfast. I turned to look at my dad, but he still had those eyes, cold white eyes that were just steadily boring into me. My daddy still wasn’t in there. But nobody else noticed, not Mom when she put his plate in front of him, not my brother or sister sitting right across from him.
“What’s wrong?” Mom asked.
I didn’t even bother replying; I just ran into my room and sobbed.
Why me? Why didn’t it just take me over too? Why am I the only one that notices? Why am I so special? But I know the answer: its playing with me. I amuse it. Those awful eyes watch me through my window, through the shades every night because it knows that I can’t fight back. It knows I’m too scared. It got Dad because he would have just shot it without hardly a second thought. He’s brave, not like me. I’m terrified.
If I ask anyone for help, then they might as well be dead. If I fight back, say, get one of my dad’s guns; then the same will happen to me. But I can’t stand those cold, blank eyes, the feel of twisted amusement that finds its way into my mind along with its horrible stare. I don’t leave my room anymore. I don’t want to see that thing pretending to be my dad.
I wonder if my mom notices, I wonder if they still… no I don’t want to think about that. I don’t want to think about it.
I don’t know what to do. I’m scared, I’m so scared.