Everyone I Look at is Already Staring at Me

It’s funny how easy it can be to dismiss an uncomfortable thought; that sound was just the wind, that shadow was just you seeing things, that watching feeling is just your nerves. Everyone does it, and I’ll admit I’ve been especially guilty of it. I, and likely many others, might refer to me as something close to skeptical when it comes to anything out of the ordinary. Friends purposefully avoided telling me their ghost story (everyone seems to have one for some reason), or about that time their grandmother saw angels in the room or whatever else. I just never really gave much credence to things that didn’t have a concrete explanation. And, at first, I tried to do the same with what had started happening to me.

I was on the daily commute to work when I first saw it. I work downtown and there’s always a bit of stop-and-start traffic along the way. I was in the ‘stop’ phase when my eyes aimlessly drifted over to the car next to me. I met the gaze of the driver, a brunette man with glasses who might have been my type if I was on the hunt. The look lingered a little past the threshold for awkward and I looked away. The sea of cars lurched forward slowly as I read a passing billboard. An advertisement for some new feature on Meta that promised to “deepen your connection with the global community.” It was the same kind of inflated BS the copywriters I work with might come up with; flowery, overdone, but apparently and unfortunately effective.

A car passed into the lane in front of me as we moved forward and through the back windshield, I saw a small pair of eyes peered at me from just above the backseat. A child, hands on either side of the half-face that was locked onto me. My gaze met theirs and I gave a small smile and wave. There was no response from the kid, other than to continue their staring, which they didn’t break until I pulled off on the exit away from them.

Working downtown, parking was scarce, so I always elected to park a little further out where it was easier and walk the rest of the way. Some days that was a great choice, others not so much, depending on rain, heat, those kinds of things. Today, it was a great decision; the sun was just pleasantly warm enough to heat the cooler air and the building windows glimmered in the light. It was still mid-morning so the streets weren’t quite crowded, but they weren’t empty either. About a third of the way into my walk, I passed someone else. I looked up and smiled at them, a gesture they had beat me to, and continued walking. I thought nothing else of it, until it had happened four more times. The same every time; I would look up, and, immediately, a face already ready to greet me before I had fully even registered the glance.

My first thought was maybe I had something on my face that day, or my shirt was inside out, or my underwear was peeking through a hole in my favorite jeans, I don’t know. I’m not an ugly girl, but I wasn’t cocky enough to think it was just ‘cause I’m pretty either. I only really started to feel genuinely uncomfortable when I passed my favorite local coffee shop and noticed, for the first time that day, that it wasn’t just a few quick idle glances. Every single face, some highlighted by the bloom of the sunlight, some dulled by the subtle tint of the windows, faced me as I walked by. I never even saw them turn to stare; every time I shifted my gaze to someone else, their eyes were already trained on me.

Their expressions differed; some seemed like they were trying to hide it, others were shamelessly gawping like a deer in the highbeams, some smiled. There was one woman who brought her hand to her chest like a mother in a moment when her child has made her proud. I stopped, trading gazes with strangers. My eyes locked on one table in particular, a couple as far as I could tell, sat near the edge of the patio fence. Had this been a regular day, I’m sure the intensity of the man’s leering would have elicited some harsh words from his partner about gawking or not paying attention to her, but that didn’t happen. The woman sitting across from him looked at me just as intensely. And the worst part was they seemed to continue their conversation like nothing was off, speaking with one another while jointly zeroed in on me instead of each other.

I picked up my pace and continued my stroll to work, avoiding meeting the looks of anyone else. I rushed silently to the bathroom and closed myself in a stall. My brain still struggled to provide a reasonable explanation for what I had seen, and I sat on the lid of the toilet, needing a moment to gather myself rather than any response to a call of nature. I took my phone out of my pocket, intent on opening the front-facing camera to see if I could figure out what everyone had been looking at.

Seventy-seven. I had seventy-seven notifications. When I had to work, I turned off any kind of notification alert, so I hadn’t heard it on the way, but nearly every person in my contact list had either texted me, called me, or both. I held the phone in amazement. The messages were all mundane greetings or attempts at initiating conversation, even from people I hadn’t spoken to in years. I only made it through about a quarter of them before the screen shifted to display an incoming call. My mother.

“Oh! Oh, honey, I finally got you.”

“Yeah, h-hi, Mom. What’s up?”

“Oh, nothing!” There was a somewhat awkward silence on the line.

“Right, I-well, I’m at work today.”

“Shoot, that’s right, I’m sorry, honey!”

“It’s fine…what did you need? Everything okay?”

“I just wanted to hear your voice.” Her reply came with the warmth only a mother could provide, but it unnerved me a bit. My mom…well she wasn’t really the sentimental type.

“Okay…well, anyway, I probably ne-”

“Oh, did I mention your father was here? Say hi, honey, it’s Alice.” There was a shifting sound as the phone rustled in their grip. It lasted longer than I’d expected. There was a light whispering, a little combative, that I swear sounded something like “give it here”, but I couldn’t quite make it out. When the rustling finally stopped, my father’s voice broke through the other end.

“Hey, sweetie. You doin’ okay?”

“Yeah, Dad, I’m-everything’s fine. I gotta-” my reply was cut off as another incoming call flashed on the screen. Tressa, my best friend, was calling as well. A chill overtook me; Tressa and I had been friends since high school and I could probably count on one hand the amount of times we’d actually spoken on the phone rather than texting. The small bit of silence from my end prompted a response from the other end.

“Honey, are you there?” my mother said worriedly.

“Sweetie! Where’d you go? Hello?” my dad’s voice echoed, the same tone present in his voice.

“Alice, Alice, talk to us!”

“Mom, Dad, Jesus!” I huffed.

“Oh, oh you’re there. Oh, thank goodness.”

“We thought you had left us, we-” my father said with a sigh.

“Guys, listen, I have to go, I’m at work.”

“Oh, uhh, right. Yeah, I guess.”

“Well, honey, can you at least call us when you get a moment?”

“I-you said everything is okay? Is there something you need to tell me?” I asked.

“Don’t worry, sweetie.”

“Everything is a-okay, honey.”

“We just-we just want to hear your voice.”

“Okay, I…I have to go.”

“Alice! Alice, wa-” I clicked to end the call, and just as quickly, the screen flashed awake again: six new texts popped up before another incoming call, this time from an ex I hadn’t even realized still had my number.

“What the fuck?” I said in a hushed tone before turning my phone off. As I went to put it back in my purse, a few harsh thumps rang out from in front of me, and it fell from my grip to the floor. Someone was knocking on the stall door.

“Alice? That you in there?” The voice sounded vaguely familiar, but not enough for me to place it.

“Yes, I’ll be out in just a minute.” I said with a purposefully annoyed tone to my voice.

“Okay, great, I can wait.” the voice responded cheerfully.

“I-what? No, no you don’t need to wait. I’ll be out in a bit.”

“No, no worries.”

“What-who is this?” I asked sharply.

“It’s Madeleine.”

I didn’t know any Madeleine. “Who?”

“Madeleine…Madeleine Turner. We worked on the Davidson account.” she responded, a somewhat disappointing turn to her voice. I still didn’t recognize the name, but the account mentioned had taken place months ago. By this point, I was starting to get angry.

“Okay, well I’ll be out when I’m out, can you please just give me a moment?”

“Of course!” The reply came with the previous cheerfulness, but wasn’t followed by any other sound. She was still just waiting.

“Okay, listen, can you please leave the room!? I just-I need a goddamn minute, okay!?”

There was a light silence before the voice replied with a new timidity to it. “Yeah…uh, yeah sure, I guess. I guess I can just wait outside for you. And you won’t be long?”

“What? No, God, can you just fuck off!? Who does this to someone while they’re in the bathroom!?”

“I…” the voice was somewhat hushed, and I struggled to understand it fully. What I thought I heard sent a shiver down my spine. “I just want to hear your voice.”