Chapter Text
When Grace woke up, he really tried to think nothing of it. He tried to reason it up as just being a nightmare, even though that in and of itself was strange, because he rarely had nightmares. In fact, Grace thinks the last time he ever had a nightmare as vivid as the one he had last night was when he was a child, and he dreamt that there had been a monster under his bed, speaking to him. He hadn't been able to remember what the monster had been saying to him, he just remembered the sinister feeling that the monster's words had left with him.
But the nightmare Grace had last night, at the ripe age of forty-seven years old, left him with a feeling much worse. At least as a child, the lingering fear the nightmare left with him quickly faded. It had just been a dream, after all. And this had been too, so why was the dread he woke up with only mounting the longer he was awake?
He tried not to think about it, but his mind kept wandering back to the nightmare.
—
He woke up with a gasp at precisely ten minutes past two in the morning, according to his digital alarm clock, and he instantly knew something was wrong. A sick, icy feeling bled over his skin. Yes, something was terribly wrong.
Something is watching you.
It's watching you.
You can't see it, but it is here.
Grace tried to shake the layered thoughts — why were so many thoughts coming at once? — as soon as they popped into his head, because he knew that was absurd. Why had he even thought that? Why was that the first thing he thought when he woke up, still half asleep even?
The room was completely black, save the glowing red light emitted from the digits on his alarm clock.
Something is watching you.
It's watching you right now, and it knows that you're awake.
Ryland is awake.
More of the overlapping thoughts rang in his head, and he tried not to focus on how they didn't exactly feel like his own. Grace's eyes darted around the room, even though he couldn't see anything. He made an effort not to move his body or his head, only his eyes. He tried to regulate his breathing, as to not draw more attention to whatever was in the room with him. No. No. Nothing was in the room with him, nothing was there! He knew that!
It's not in the room. But the door is cracked open.
The door is open.
It's watching you.
Grace's eyes darted to the door, and sure enough, with just the faint glow of the alarm clock, he could see that the door was slightly ajar. Not uncommon for him to leave it like that. On the other end of the door, was darkness.
It's looking right at you.
It's right on the other side.
It's right there, a few steps away.
Grace shuddered and closed his eyes. Nothing was there. He had to go back to sleep. He wasn't in his right mind, he was probably still in the throes of unrestful sleep and it must have left him with false unease. That had been happening a lot lately.
It sees you.
It's not supposed to be watching.
It couldn't help itself.
Grace has had similar thoughts to these a lot, the feeling of being watched. As a child, he had been diagnosed with OCD after suffering from a variety of intrusive thoughts. The feeling of being watched was not new to him, it was a frequently reoccurring sensation that he had spent many years training himself not to ruminate on.
It's smiling at you.
Ryland is awake.
Illness. Poor human.
Ruminating on intrusive thoughts only made them more persistent, and more unsettling, more debilitating. It made it easier to fall into the cycle where he felt the compulsion to do or say strange things to try and make the intrusive thoughts go away. And the thoughts would go away, he would get some relief, just for a little while. But in reality these compulsions only made the intrusive thoughts worse, stronger, and thus caused the cycle to repeat. That was why it was important to just let the thoughts pass by and pay them no mind; rob them of their power. But anybody with OCD could tell you that was easier said than done.
Oh, it is smiling at you.
From right in the doorway.
Ryland is awake.
You can't see it, but it can see you.
It wasn't supposed to.
Some days were better, some were worse, but he prided himself on how he had learned to recognize when an intrusive thought was messing with his mind, what was real and what wasn't, and having the ability to stop the thought in its tracks before he could spiral and give in to the cycle that his disorder was trying to subject him to.
It's not in the doorway anymore.
Humans are naturally curious. It is too.
Grace knew by now when a thought was an intrusive thought.
It's with you in the room now.
Ryland is awake.
And these were not intrusive thoughts.
Very good.
Oh, no. This was real.
I am watching you.
This was real. Why did the thoughts change ever so slightly? Why were they more quiet now? Why did it feel like whatever was watching him was now speaking to him directly, rather than just observing him?
I like you.
There was a long pause before a sad thought entered Grace's mind.
I was not supposed to.
"You're scaring me," Grace whispered, though in the deafening silence of his bedroom, he might as well have been shouting. He didn't know what possessed him to say anything. Despite him being aware that these thoughts weren't intrusive, they were still thoughts. Not disembodied voices, he wasn't going into psychosis. They were his own thoughts in his head, he could recognize that. It felt silly to talk to them as if they weren't, part of him cursed himself for indulging in mildly compulsive behavior, even though he knew that whatever was going on wasn't his OCD. He almost wished it was the disorder, that would actually bring him some comfort right now, as unbelievable as that was. But he had to talk. He had to say something.
"You're scaring me, and I don't like this...."
Nothing. Suddenly, it was quiet. Almost as if all the things Grace had been hearing before wasn't the entity speaking, but thinking. Perhaps it didn't actually want to say all that much?
Grace could still feel it watching him. But, thankfully, he did feel the mood shift. There was still cold, icy fear in his veins, but for the first time since he had woken up, Grace finally felt like he had some control over whatever was watching him. He tried very hard not to think about how that's exactly what giving into his OCD compulsions would feel like. But still, he knew this was different. What was this thing? A ghost? A monster? A demon? Grace never believed in any of those things before. He didn't want to believe now. Whatever was watching him, it was listening to him now. He gave one last hail mary, hoping this would be what it needed to leave Grace be so that he could calm down and go back to sleep.
"Please. If you like me, be good for me, and go away." He laid in bed, and the feeling of unease decreased significantly. Funnily enough, a feeling of embarrassment flooded Grace's mind, yet the embarrassment was not his own. Grace still could tell that he was being watched, so he added, "You can watch me another time, just not right now. You are scaring me."
Grace's mind felt empty, but he could still feel eyes on him. Then, a surprisingly comforting thought rang through his head, in his own voice. Warmth spread from his chest and throughout his body, melting the ice in his veins.
Be not afraid.
And just like that, Grace knew he was alone. Whatever had been watching him was now gone. Tears sprung to Grace's eyes and he let out a long, shaky breath. He felt dizzy as he gasped and tried not to hyperventilate. He sat up in bed, buried his face into his hands, and then promptly fell back into bed as quickly as he had risen.
"Fuuuuuudge," Grace groaned into his hands. His eyes were heavy. So heavy. Maybe it was just because it was the middle of the night, maybe it was coming down from the rush of adrenaline, maybe it was even the rush of reassurance from the entity's — what else could he call it? — parting words, but Grace was suddenly exhausted. He wanted to sleep but he felt like he should stay awake to... what? What could he even do if the entity came back? He would just have to reason with it again. No, there was no point in staying awake, all that would do would leave him exhausted for class in the morning.
Grace closed his eyes, not entirely willingly, and allowed sleep to take him back. He dreamt of nothing else, his mind clear and free. One of the last thoughts he had before he fell asleep was that stupid prey animals minds must be clear and free right before they're killed.
—
So here he was again in the morning, turning worries over in his head, the memory of what happened the night before felt just as vivid as if it had happened seconds ago. There was no sleepy fog surrounding it like there would be if it had been a dream. What had changed though is that Grace was now in deep denial. While when he had fallen asleep, he had been prepared to accept that he had encountered some kind of entity, now he refused to do any such thing. How could he? It went against all reason, and he was a man of reason! So he was left with only a few options on what had happened. Grace laid in bed, staring at the ceiling, and mentally listed the theories.
It really could have been a dream. It felt unlikely, but dreams are funny things. There's so much that humans don't even know about dreams, so many theories as to why they even have them. Who is Grace to say with any certainty that what happened to him wasn't just a vivid nightmare, perhaps brought on from stress in his daily life. Maybe he was even developing insomnia, which can cause auditory hallucinations? Maybe he experienced some form of sleep paralysis? His kids always joked about sleep paralysis demons. He assumed it was a gag, but maybe there was merit to it?
The other option, which Grace didn't really want to consider but couldn't deny that it was likely, is that he had a psychotic episode. A small break from reality. It wouldn't be ideal if this is what happened, but Grace tried to remind himself that there was no shame in it if it had! The human brain is delicate, all kinds of things can trigger psychosis. Sometimes an episode can leave lasting effects that Grace would need to address with a therapist (if he could afford one), and other times you can walk away from it unscathed and say, 'Wow! That sucked!' and move on with your life. This was a serious contender for what had happened.
The final option, closely related to the previous option, is that it had been his OCD. Perhaps his intrusive thoughts had found new ways to trick him and worm their way into his skull, perhaps they had adapted to the skills he used as a firewall against them and learned how to get stronger and beat him down. He had exhibited compulsive behavior in order to get the entity to go away, and it had worked, which is exactly how OCD operates. The only problem with this theory is that if it was his OCD, the intrusive thoughts would have likely come back by now to repeat the compulsive cycle. He wouldn't feel so well rested, he wouldn't have a clear mind, he would be trapped in the endless cycle of rumination and compulsion. That, and, while Grace didn't want to act like he was an expert in the disorder... he had lived with OCD all of his life. What had happened last night felt nothing like anything he had ever experienced before.
Granted, wasn't he ruminating? Wasn't that what he was doing right now, giving all of this more thought than it needed? No. That was silly, he experienced something significant last night, he had every right to turn it over in his mind.
But, what he didn't have, was time.
Grace sighed, running a hand through his hair and scratching at the stubble on his chin. It had been three days since he had shaved, he really needed to get on that before he grew a beard. He didn't want to look like his brother. Not that Colt looked bad or anything, just that Grace never enjoyed matching with his twin. He felt it stripped him of his identity. Colt was quite the opposite, he always found it fun when they ended up matching. He said it made him feel closer to his brother. A strange sentiment for Colt to have, given that he wasn't speaking to Grace at the moment. Grace tried not to take it personally, but he couldn't help it. They had always been close.
It would be nice if he could talk to Colt right now, just to ask for Colt's advice on what happened last night. Colt wouldn't buy Grace's attempts to try and explain it away with logic, he would be insisting that it was some kind of supernatural entity. Probably a ghost. Colt liked ghosts, he always got excited when he got to work on a horror film.
Grace sighed and rolled out of bed, groaning when his joints popped. He did a big stretch and lazily scratched his soft belly, then walked into the bathroom to pee. He had a bit of morning wood, that always made it annoying to pee. He could walk back to bed and crank out an orgasm, but what if the entity decided to start watching him while he pleasured himself —
No! Christmas Eve, there was no entity! That's Colt talking, don't let Colt win! He and his broken back can kick rocks. Right up until he's ready to start speaking to Grace again, in which case he will be welcomed back with open arms and a list of grievances.
Grace considered masturbating just to prove to himself that he could, but honestly he wasn't even in the mood. Instead he went about getting ready for the day, deciding if the outfit he had chosen was too far on the casual end of business-casual. He spent far longer picking out a tie than he probably should have, but he couldn't help that he had such a large selection. His kids had gifted him many over the years, and they were all delightfully silly. He landed on the tie that had small images of Ms. Frizzle from The Magic School Bus printed on them.
Grace walked into the kitchen and popped some of his OCD medication into his mouth, swallowing it dryly even though he knows he shouldn't take it that way. Sue him, he couldn't be bothered to make a drink. He wheeled his bike out from behind the couch, grabbed his bag, his apartment keys, and before he left he paused and looked back into his living room. It was quiet, and so was his head. He thought of Colt.
"I'm fully aware that I am talking to myself right now and that I am behaving like a moron," Grace began. "But if there is someone watching me right now — and kudos for making yourself less obvious this time if you are — well... stay put. Be good. Don't follow me around today. Stay here, in the apartment. I don't need to have a panic attack at school."
He was met with silence. Of course he was! He was such a gosh darn idiot. Still, he mumbled, "Okay, glad we understand each other." Grace turned and walked out of the apartment, and made his way to the staircase, because the elevator had been out for weeks now. That was okay, he could use the exercise, but having to lug his bike up and down the steps sure was a pain.
It was raining, and Grace stood outside the apartment complex and cursed himself for forgetting to grab his raincoat. As he pulled on his bike helmet, a young man — he had to of been in his early twenties — walked around the corner of the building and made his way to the entrance where Grace was standing under the awning above the doors. It was strange, despite the man having just walked through the pouring rain, he looked relatively dry. He went to open the doors, not even giving Grace a second look, and then tried to yank them open. Key word: tried.
The man paused, then pulled on the doors again. And again. He huffed and nervously looked over his shoulder at Grace, finally acknowledging his presence, then tried to pull on the doors again. Grace took pity on him.
"You have to push the doors, not pull them," Grace said, some amusement in his voice. He could tell the guy was embarrassed and Grace didn't want to kick him when he was down, but it was too funny. Was this guy born yesterday?
"Well how am I supposed to know that?" Grace heard the man mutter, seemingly to himself. The man pushed on the doors and hummed when they — shockingly — opened. Who would've thunk it?
"Do you not live here or something?" Grace asked. He didn't really know why he cared. He could say that he was a concerned resident who wanted to make sure this guy wasn't going to rob somebody, but the truth is that he was just being nosy.
The man looked at him blankly. "I have to stay here today," he said slowly, as if Grace should know that already. His voice was soft, light like a feather.
"Okay," Grace said lamely. The man eyed him for a moment before he walked into the building, and Grace shamelessly watched him through the glass of the doors as he made his way to the elevator and pressed the button to wait for service. Grace was going to take pity on him again and open the doors to let him know that the elevator was out, but was surprised to see that the elevator doors actually opened for the man. He stepped inside, and then he was gone.
Huh. The elevator hadn't been working when Grace had come home last night, why would it work now? Had someone come in early this morning and finally fixed it? No, surely not, the elevator couldn't be fixed in just a couple hours. Even if it could, it was only six-thirty in the morning now, who fixes a crappy apartment elevator at an earlier time than that? Grace knew his landlord, he knew the man wasn't in a rush to fix it. None of it added up.
But Grace didn't have time to wonder about any of that right now. He had to get to school, he already had wasted too much time talking to the entity that didn't exist in his apartment, and talking to the stupid man who had a magic touch with the elevator but not the doors. Grace hopped onto his bike and peddled away from the apartment complex.
He felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up as he left, and he hated that he knew he was being watched again. He hated even more that it didn't scare him as much this time. It wasn't as intense as last night, not nearly as much, so told himself that it must just be paranoia, that the entity was not back.
If he had turned back to look at his apartment building, he might have seen that someone was looking at him from the windows of his home. But he didn't look, so he didn't know.
