The fear is imminent. Since 14, I have never felt like me; at least not me as a whole. There have always been what I call “the followers”. These people continue to torment and torture me with tracking me down and satirizing who I am. Most days I feel safe, but today as I’m walking down the aisles of the supermarket, I can not help but notice a man following me. His appearance is bizarre. He had a long nose and a slight hitch in his walk, however I recognized him. It’s the kind of recognition of the way that someone recognizes an old friend and at this point I remember his name, Ricardo. He creeps closer, and closer to my shopping cart, the lights dimming as he grows closer. I can hear my nerves firing away as he gets even closer, reaching out towards me. His cold, scaly hand smells of blood as he grazes my cheek right below my eye. My heart is pounding in my ears and at this moment I am so sure he can sense my fear so I run, quicker than a blink of an eye, leaving my cart behind. Crying and fearing for my life, I fumble with my keys in my tote bag and I get into my gray hatchback. 

No, not here; not right now, I think as my mind is racing.

 As I slam the door shut and turn the ignition on, I turn around, and he is gone.

 The fifteen minute drive home in silence calms the adrenaline that was pulsating in my body. The relief was short lived however when I entered my front door. Another man, Hunan, who has been around since I was 15, is standing there and staring back at me. He starts mocking my every move. Everything from the step forward I take, to the way my heart beats and the way I feel my blood pulsing, warm through my veins, he mimes with precision. His white hair glistening in the overhead light. He smells of sweat and fresh earth. I slowly close my eyes, trying to control my breathing like I was told by my therapist to do. It helps for a while, but when I open my eyes and he has vanished, I can not help still feeling as though he is right around the corner. I am on a tightrope as I walk down the hall into my bedroom. 

Maybe I just need to take a hot shower, I think to myself. That will surely help. 

I look under every piece of furniture in my room and once I know that I am alone, I lock the door. I grab my softest pajamas and head for the bathroom, yet again locking the door behind me. The shower does wonders. It works to relax my mind and my body, both of which have taken a toll today. My mind is at ease as I turn off the water and pull back my blue shower curtain with the wonderful pattern of daisies. I grab my white bath towel and proceed to dry my body and hair, wrapping it up after I have finished. But as I pull on my bathrobe I notice something. I had two towels set out, as I always do, but one has seemingly disappeared.

 What the hell, I wonder quizzically as I walk past the sink with its large mirror by the door.

Then I see her. Darla. The woman who has repeatedly tormented me for the longest. She has not stopped following me for 5 years. I turn and look at her, her soul transported into the mirror. She has eyes as black as night that will pierce right into your soul like a dagger and her hair the same shade as her eyes. Her skin looks gray in the light and it sends chills down my spine. She smiles a smile that goes from one ear to the other. A grin so wide, it could suck out your whole psyche in one go.

Hello dear, I hear her words in my head, though she didn’t move her mouth.

 “Stop!” I scream, tears forming in my eyes as I collapse onto the bathroom floor.

Wouldn’t you like that, she says back in my mind. But there’s no one here other than you.

 I stand again, and touch the face in the mirror, realizing the one in the mirror is only myself.