Eyes in the Dark
When I close my eyes to sleep, and all is quiet, and all I can hear is the sound of my breathing in the dark, I see him. Two black eyes glinting in the night. One smile, too white and too wide, unmistakable above me. I open my eyes in a panic, fear crushing my chest, paralysing my limbs and he is still there, looming above me in the shadows. I reach desperately for my phone. Light blinds me. I blink a few times as the image of a dog pops up on the screen.
He is grey and brown and black, with soft eyes, floppy ears and a big grin. I take a deep breath. After a few moments that might be a second or five minutes, I put on music. Gentle voices fill the empty space, smooth strings of a guitar distract my brain. I put on a timer for thirty minutes. I lay back down and stare at the ceiling, listening to soothing words about love, both failed and healthy, about home and road trips, about hope and happiness, until sleep takes me without my consent.
When I am in the grocery store, buying milk, comparing cereal prices, I wait for him. I cannot relax. My jaw tightens. My fists clench. Music plays over the speakers but I wish it wouldn’t. I can’t hear the footsteps so well over the melody. A man in a coat brushes by me. I jump. My breathing quickens, my heart is pounding in my ears, my muscles coil and tense. The moment passes, he keeps walking. I force myself to take a deep breath. I’m suddenly dizzy and nauseous, my mouth is dry, the taste of fear is rancid on my lips. I close my eyes to try to focus.
Black eyes glinting in the dark. A white smile looming above me.
I snap my eyes open and grab the cereal off the shelf. The sooner I get out the better.
When I am on a date that is not a date because he didn’t officially ask, I can’t focus on what he is saying. All I can hear is the voice in my head telling me how stupid this is. Telling me that I wasn’t ready for this. Telling me how I’m going to have to tell him because all anyone wants nowadays is to have sex and I can’t. At least not yet. Tell him, the voice in my head says. The man smiles at me and my heart rate accelerates in the worst sort of way. Tell him, the voice in my head shouts. He leans forward, his fingers brushing mine and I think I’m about to puke. TELL HIM, the voice in my head screams.
“What do you think?” he asks me suddenly, eyes holding me in place.
My mouth opens and closes. I have no idea what he has been talking about. I take a drink of water, and ask him to repeat himself. Tell him, the voice in my head says.
When I get home alone that evening I notice my jaw is sore. When I stretch it, the joint clicks and pops. I’ve been grinding my teeth the entire not date-date. There is a creak in the house behind me and I whip around, muscles straining, blood pounding in my ears, already seeing those black eyes staring at me unwaveringly. That white smile hovering above me. There is nothing there. I go and lay down, setting my timer and staring at the ceiling.
When I sit in silence, I see him in my mind’s eye. I used to be able to rest and look out, at peace, in love with being alone. Now, I am never alone. His touch sticks to me like the blood on Lady Macbeth’s hands. Nothing there, but no matter how much I scrub, I can still see it. In the quiet it happens over again, and again and again. So, I do not sit in silence. I listen to music and podcasts. I busy my hands with writing or colouring. I am exhausted with all this noise constantly around me. I want to be alone in the quiet, but I can never be alone. He is here still, holding me in place despite my tears. I don’t know how to get away from him.
I hope that one day the spot will come out. I hope that one day I will fall asleep without fear. I hope that one day I will once again enjoy silence. I hope that one day, he won’t be in every corner, in every sound, in every man who steps too close. I hope that I will be able to close my eyes without seeing him.
I have spent 500 days, today, hoping with no avail. But maybe tomorrow. Maybe tomorrow.
-Kate Foster
A university drop out currently travelling the world. Kate works as a tree planter in Northern Canada during the summer, while spending the off seasons as a guide for sled dog rides and as a horse trainer in various countries around the globe. She spends much of her free time writing and journaling about her experiences.