Paranoia

I tried hard not to notice, truly, I did. Pretend to be oblivious, I had told myself mentally. My curiosity, though, was overwhelming and my willpower has never been strong. So I snuck a glance in his direction.

As soon as I did, I wished I hadn’t. It was the smallest of glances, but it was enough to confirm my suspicions. There his hunched figure, tightly clenched fists, gaunt angular chin, fuming gaze and deadly eyes sat.

I shuddered, remembering how his eyes had seemed to be fixated on me and me alone.

It’s probably not what you think it is, I reassured myself. I’m just over examining every little measly detail I can find.

My conscious thought wasn’t helping. It was tormenting me with its shrieks of, ‘he’s still staring at you. He doesn’t look happy.’ If my inner dialogue had a control, it was be switched off; permanently.

Only, I knew I was right. His deathly glare was directed at me.

My eyes quickly flickered to his and I found pure loathing staring directly at me. The terror I felt must have been displayed on my face, like an open book for any to read.

For a moment, our gazes met. His eyes seem to almost taunt me, though he hadn’t uttered a single world.

I made an involuntary move to the edge of my chair. I nearly fell off, but it didn’t matter. How could I feel so isolated in a room so full?

Though not brave enough to watch him outright, I didn’t dare take my eyes off him. In the very corner of my vision, I could see his dark figure rise.

I tried to stay calm and collected, yet I knew I was failing miserably. As his body grew bigger in my peripheral vision, I panicked. My face drained of all colour, my heart pounded with fear and my pulse quickened.

He came closer and closer. At one point, I firmly believed I could hear his footsteps thumping, despite the noisy buzz of the room.

My hands trembled as he approached my desk. My neurons must have stopped functioning because my neck clearly wasn’t receiving the ‘raise your head in confidence’ message.

Instead I watched the ground. I watched his feet pass. I nervously noticed that the ends of his shoelaces were hanging on by mere threads. Hanging on for dear life.

So I watched, as they walked right passed me.

My neurons must have only momentarily frozen because my neck sure did receive the message, although late.

Slightly more relaxed, yet still cautious, I watched him walk out the door. I released the air I’d been holding in with a sigh of relief.

He turned the corner and I could have sworn I’d seen him shoot a wolfish grin in my direction, his eyes hollow, yet menacing. I feared that those eyes would forever haunt me.

That’s exactly what he wants you to think, my inner dialogue jeered.