I could feel their gaze, white hot, burning. 

I knew that every pair of wide eyes in the room would lock with mine if I were to look up from this table. The Eyes I could not see bore holes in the back of my head. They all knew exactly what I was thinking. They knew everything about me, and they were judging me for it. The cafeteria screamed, the voices of its inhabitants bouncing around inside my skull.

I raised the spoon to my mouth. Suddenly I was some tiny, crawling thing in a world dominated by giants. I lost my appetite.

By now I had forgotten what had caused me to feel this way; I wasn’t sure if there was a reason in the first place. The only thing I could think about was my breath, shallow and fast. And The Eyes. It felt as though something was reaching down my throat and squeezing what little air I had left in my lungs. I just needed to calm down.

But The Eyes tour the inside of my brain like some shitty modern art exhibit—they peer closely at the strange sculptures and intricate paintings, and none of them get it. They don’t wipe their shoes before they enter, leaving muddy little tracks all over my matted carpet. They see the jumbles of color and incoherent scribbles, and they snicker to themselves. They point at the canvas that sprawls along the inside of my skull, streaked with meaningless shades of green and yellow and purple, and they shrug.

I think if I were to shake my head or maybe knock it against my palm a couple times, The Eyes would pop out of my ears and roll away—bounce on the hardwood floor, cursing my existence.

Raegan Blair is currently double majoring in Game Design and English with an emphasis in creative writing. Outside of writing, Raegan loves all things horror: whether that be video games, movies, or books. You can find her website here: https://raeganblair8.wixsite.com/portfolio-website.