I used to think that feeling of being watched was something people made up. You know, like when you're alone for too long or watch too many scary videos at 2 in the morning. I did not believe it.
I really did not believe in it.
Until it started happening to me.
At first it was things. The kind of things you brush off without realizing it.
Like a car parked outside my building for a bit long. The engine was off. No one was getting out.
This guy. He was wearing a dark hoodie and had his hands in his pockets. Standing across the street. He was not walking around or on his phone. He was just standing there. His head was slightly down like he was waiting for something or someone.
I told myself I was being ridiculous.
This is Johannesburg. People do not have time to stalk strangers. They have their problems. They have to worry about paying rent dealing with traffic and load shedding. They have their lives to live. You just mind your business and keep moving.
So I did.
At least I tried to.
Then these "coincidences" started piling up in a way that did not feel like a coincidence anymore.
On Monday afternoon I saw him by the bus stop. He was wearing the hoodie.
I did not think much of it.
On Tuesday morning there he was again. He was across the street from my coffee spot. I remember the smell of burnt espresso hitting me as I walked in. I was trying not to look hard but I noticed him.
On Wednesday evening I saw him on a street. He was the guy.
He was standing still like he did not belong with everything that was moving around him.
The time our eyes almost met I felt something in my stomach twist. It was not on fear. Not yet.
It just felt wrong.
Like when you step onto a staircase and think there is one step than there actually is. You get that feeling in your chest.
I looked away.
I always did.
By Thursday I started changing my route home. I was taking streets pretending I just felt like walking more.
It did not help.
If anything it made me more aware. I was noticing every reflection in a shop window every pair of footsteps behind me. I was noticing much.
I told myself to relax. I said it out loud under my breath and some guy passing me gave me a look.
I said I was just tired.
Yeah that had to be it.
I was stressed I was not sleeping well. My brain was making connections that were not there.
Right?
That is what I kept telling myself that night as I pushed open the door to my apartment building. My keys were already in my hand the metal digging into my skin.
Just in case.
The hallway lights flickered. Just once.
It was enough.
My heart. I actually laughed a little. It was a awkward laugh.
I said okay chill. It is a light.
I walked faster.
I got to my door unlocked it and slipped inside. I locked it again a bit quickly. The click echoed louder than usual.
I leaned back against the door for a second.
Maybe two.
My apartment was quiet. It was not a quiet though. It was like that heavy kind of silence that presses against your ears.
Like the air knows something you do not.
I shook it off pushing myself away from the door. I whispered to myself to get a grip.
Because this was getting stupid.
I dropped my bag onto the couch kicked off my shoes and set my phone on the table. I was doing things. Routine things. The kind of things that make everything feel grounded.
Safe.
Mine.
My phone buzzed.
I froze.
It was not even loud. In that silence it felt sharp. It felt like it cut through the room.
For a second I just stared at it.
I said do not be dramatic. I did not move.
It buzzed again.
I finally walked over slow like I was approaching something I was not sure I wanted to touch.
It was a number.
Course it was.
I hesitated. My thumb was hovering over the screen and I swear, it felt like my body already knew something was off.
I opened it anyway.
The message said: You made it home today.
My breath just stopped.
I read it again.
Then I read it again slower.
Again even slower.
Each time I felt colder.
I whispered okay it is a wrong number. It is a wrong number.
That happens. People text the person all the time.
It is normal.
Completely normal.
My chest felt tight. Too tight.
Slowly I turned my head toward the window.
The curtains were slightly open.
I frowned.
I said I closed those did I not?
A chill slid down my spine, slow and deliberate as I stepped closer. Every movement felt careful quiet. It felt like if I made much noise something would notice.
The street outside looked the same as always. There were a couple of cars and the streetlights were flickering that yellow glow.
There was no one.
I let out a breath I did not even realize I was holding. I said see I am fine.
God I was really losing it.
My phone buzzed again.
I flinched.
I said seriously?
I picked it up this time like I was ripping off a bandage.
The message said: You always do that.
My stomach dropped.
I whispered do what before I even realized I was speaking out loud.
My fingers felt off slightly numb, as I typed.
I said who is this?
The reply came instantly.
Too fast.
It was like they were watching the screen waiting for me.
The message said: Looking for me when you already know I am here.
My heartbeat slammed against my ribs. It was loud hard. I could hear it in my ears now.
I said no shaking my head. I said that is not.
I stepped back from the window like distance would fix this. Like I could just step out of whatever this was.
I said this is not funny because it had to be a joke right? A sick one, sure. Still a joke.
I moved quickly grabbing the curtains and yanking them shut. My hands were gripping the fabric tight my knuckles ached.
I said there I am safe.
That is how it works.
That is how it is supposed to work.
My phone buzzed again.
I did not want to look.
Every part of me said do not.
I did anyway.
And the second I read it everything inside me just went still.
The message said: I see you.
My breath hitched.
Slowly too slowly my eyes lifted from the screen to the curtains.
Nothing.
For a second nothing happened.
Then -
A shadow moved.
Right, outside my window