...He watches....

...Veiled in shadows....

...Cloaked in nightmares....

...And when she turns behind, he disappears....

...Because this is no man. This is not even a creature. This is a monster....

...Her monster....

...~•~...

She'd been staring at that dusty mirror for long enough.

Watching herself, a slim, slender figure fix and straighten her long green dress, movements sometimes slow, sometimes quick. Slow when she gets lost in some random thought, herself, quick when she thinks about how in the next few minutes, she'll say goodbye to place.

Apart from the azure eyes that shine with a whirl of anxiety and excitement, the necklace she's wearing glints and steals attention with a pendant that forms a letter she never found what it meant. She had been told it was a symbol of luck, but little had she believed that.

Not much told about her appearance yet. But it is said that eyes are the reflection of the soul. However, they never managed to draw much of attention from her or anyone else. It was always the milky-white pale skin, the hollow cheeks, thin lips, and of course, a deep prominent scar that ran down her left eyebrow and cheekbone. Most of the time, she managed to hide it with her chocolate locks, but the impact it made on her face was greatly noticable.

She took a deep breath. What everyone else thought didn't matter anymore to her. Not even other people calling her 'beautiful' and then bursting into laugher. It used to affect her much more when she was a little girl.

But as she thought about it, the bullying, the insults, it would not be genuine if she said she didn't entirely care. If she was that ugly, why give her unwanted attention? They had no other job, had they?

To say she disliked people was a small word. She loathed them. Not everyone, but most of them. They were selfish, wicked, and self-serving. While not directly harming her, she simply wasn't fine with the way the world tilted.

How much eccentric could a girl's mind be?

She didn't remember herself as little, didn't remember how she had gotten such a marred feature. Her aunt, Mrs. Miller, had told her that she had been a troublemaker, a little daredevil when she had been a small child. She had tripped and fallen face open on a rock, and the scar had remained since then.

"Regan, are you ready?" her aunt called from the other room, snapping the girl out of thoughts.

"I'm coming!" Regan shouted back, tearing her eyes away from the mirror.

She had packed everything and she had to leave now. The luggage was unzipped, a framed photo of her parents visible. It was one of the few references and memories she had of them.

They had died in a car accident, and she didn't remember much about them, not even their faces. Her childhood was vague, but the disdainful looks from the world weren't.

Regan bent down, casting a look at the picture.

The distinctive appearance she had was a stark contrast to that one of her parents. They had been tall, attractive people, and here she was the opposite. Not only that, her facial structure differed from theirs, as day over night.

A sigh escaped Regan's lips as she zipped the bag. She was just about to leave when the window suddenly slammed shut. Her eyebrows furrowed, she remembered closing before. For a millisecond, a weird sensation settled in the pit of her stomach, and she felt like her own shadow was watching her.

"The wind is strong today," Regan murmured to herself, eyeing the room once more to check if she had forgotten something. The air had seemed to grow with something eerie, but it was probably the anticipation of moving away.

Aunt Monica was waiting in the corridor with a gentle smile on her face. "You look nice, dear," she said, giving her a pat on the shoulder. "Let's make sure we didn't forget anything."

Regan nodded.

Monica turned back quickly. They had been packing the night before. The new house her aunt had bought was in California, and Regan was excited for the change.

But the unease and intrusiveness whenever she did something new kept accompanying her.

The car ride was long, a blur of buildings slowly fading and opening into a painting of blue sky and brown soil. Regan couldn't shake the anxiety away.

It wasn't merely the anticipation, it was the uncanny feeling she had felt when that window had slammed shut. Her palms were sweating more than usually, and her eyes would occasionally glimpse back.

Why?

Nothing was following her.

She didn't like this place much anyway.

Taking a deep breath, she hoped her aunt wasn't noticing. She was used to hiding her anxiety in front of her aunt.

While Monica was a good person, Regan knew the perfectionist spirit of hers, her dislike of unconventional and unnecessary agitation. And to avoid it, she had grown up as a girl who'd appear quiet, wear a smile (but only around her aunt) and call it a day.

The hours passed, and they took breaks to eat and stretch. But Regan had no appetite, the usual travel sickness had made her almost throw up. The fresh air she had gotten when they had stopped by a gas station had been all what had kept her in line. But even there, the inexplicable feeling that something was off despite the sunny weather, had her tethered.

After what seemed like an eternity, a five-hour-long ride, they finally arrived at their destination.

It had become night already, the stars much more visible than in the urban neighborhood she had been living before. Temperature was high, the wind blew hotter.

Their new house was just like in the photos-a white bungalow with a light blue trim. The area was quiet, with only a few people walking by.

Regan took a deep breath as soon as she was out of the car, her mind rotating like a vortex. Monica parked the vehicle in front of the garage, and then pulled the bags out.

Regan helped her, heart racing with excitement despite the terrible ride and...and she didn't know how to refer to that unknown feeling.

The house was plain and simple, neatly kept, Monica's favorite. But it was good for Regan too. She hadn't hoped for some aristocratic manor.

Her aunt led upstairs and Regan began to unpack in her room. Her muscles ached, and her insides churned with nausea. She had to eat something solid, but she didn't want to bother her aunt.

The wooden floors cracked as she walked, and the walls were bare of any decorations. Her room had a balcony, the curtain swinging softly from the wind.

Regan gave up from unpacking all at once, just pushed her bags in the corner of the room. She didn't have many clothes, so she walked to Monica's room, watching her aunt, who had strictly placed her items in place.

She was organized about everything, while Regan couldn't keep a day without making her room a mess.

"So how does the house look?" Monica asked as she placed the last book on the highest shelf.

"It's pretty," Regan answered. She had to admit, it was refreshing, much better than their old apartment.

"Let's go downstairs and eat something. I've ordered pizza."

Regan nodded, desperate to get rid of the lump that had formed in her throat.

They stepped downstairs, to the small living room. The couches were a little scratched-the house's previous owners had probably kept cats.

She sat on the couch and leaned back, while her aunt turned on the TV, "Everything here works well," she approved.

"Yeah, it's a cool house," Regan replied, her mind somehow wandering to the apartment she had left behind, to that window which had closed so abruptly.

She didn't know why she was giving it so much thought. It was something that could happen to anyone. And it wasn't the window itself that made her mind reel.

It was that damn feeling that something was...wrong.

Do you know these starry nights where you can see the whole bright mesmerizing stars? The endless celestial objects?

She was lost in thought, staring at the sky while sitting on the backyard with her knees to her chest. Luckily, there wasn't much light pollution like in other urban places.

Her aunt had fallen asleep hours ago and it was late. It had passed midnight. Regan had school tomorrow. She was supposed to sleep at this hour, but she wasn't.

For some other minutes, after doing the same thing, gazing at stars, she convinced her mind to go back inside. She didn't know why but there was always something about the stars. She was always drawn to bizarre, unknown things for humans.

After she went inside her room, she changed into a set of loose, kitty-themed pajamas. She brushed her teeth and lay in the bed, trying to get some sleep.

However... that familiar feeling crept up again, along with the mass of these whole intrusive and negative thoughts.

It was the reason why she was so paranoid, why her head always hurt, why her body was so tense.

As for that familiar feeling, well that was a feeling of non-belonging. She had felt that since she was little, she didn't remember how years old, but probably around seven. And she still felt it now that she was eighteen.

It was like she always knew she was different, that she didn't fit in. And it was true. She didn't fit at all, she felt like an outsider, she hated crowds, fake friends, people. They were dirty, they cared about sex, money, material things, they were shallow.

Maybe she was probably being unfair, there were good people in the world, that not everyone was like that. But still, she couldn't see anyone who was good. She could only sink in her negative thoughts, in her tense body, in her head.

Regan sighed and rolled onto her side where the cold blankets were cool and soothing. It was useless though. Sleep eluded her again.

Her mind was hell awake, thinking that she was about to die, thinking always the worst.

The night was silent. The window was left open for some air, but still, it felt suffocating. She wondered if there was anyone else feeling like her, like a mess, like an alien with a human body.

She tossed and turned in bed, trying to find a comfortable spot. It was useless. If she covered herself with blankets, she felt hot and trapped; if she let them pool on the floor, she was freezing. If she closed her eyes, images of the dark, intrusive images clouded her. If she stayed awake, all previously mentioned things happened as well. She was terrified to look up in Google about what she felt because it would make things even worse. She knew it. She had done it before and had ended up even more terrified and anxious.

She had always felt like that, always tense, never calm, never positive, always waiting for something terrible to happen.

She wished she could talk to someone about it, but who would understand? Who would care? Her aunt would act like Google, get freaky. Her parents.... they weren't alive. Regan only knew their appearances, even that was just from pictures. She had no friends, no real connections to anyone. She had only her mind, her negative, paranoid, self-depressive mind.

With a groan, she shoved the covers away and grabbed her phone. She began to play again, but a feeling of disorientation, of seeing her own self through someone else's eyes suddenly appeared.... Regan's eyes jolted from the phone, they glanced around the room, her heart thumped for something more than just the usual deal that kept her awake. She was feeling eyes on her.

Her phone dropped on the blanket as she slipped out of the bed and walked over to the window. It was pure darkness outside, with still visible stars, and sound of crickets gracing the night.

A cool breeze caressed her face, but it didn't wash away the feeling of being watched. Her eyelids closed, willing herself to calm down, but...

A snap of a twig outside, an abrupt cut of the crickets' chirping.

When she opened them again, she saw something move out of the corner of her eye. She peeked out of the window, her heart hammering against her ribs. There was nothing, just the bushes swaying in the breeze. She let out a shaky breath, cursing under her breath.

She closed the window and sat on the bed. The digital clock on the bedside table showed 1:30. She was tired, but the seed of fear had been planted. What if something was watching her?

"Such a long night," she whispered to herself, willing the hours to pass quickly. If she'd hang on the irrational fear that had just formed, she'd end up with bloodshot eyes on her first school day. But it was a cycle after all. Night would come again, she'd struggle to sleep, and then she'd wake up exhausted.

Looking for something that would distract her, she grabbed her phone again and scrolled through social media. But each reel had either people spreading fake positivity, or sexual innuendo.

That was it. That's what sells in this fucked up world. She slammed the phone on the nightstand and rolled on the other side, trying to get some sleep.

Her body began to heat again and she kicked the covers off. She turned on her side, away from the window, and closing her eyes, hoping that sleep would come. It didn't.

"Oh God, I want to sleep," she whispered, grabbing the blankets again and forcing herself to submit to her wants. Her eyelids grew heavy, burning if she kept them open. She tried to think about something else, something beautiful, probably the books and movies she had read and seen. Because there was nothing else in her life that she considered beautiful.

She closed her eyes and started to drift off to a uneasy sleep, like most nights. With nightmares of being lost and other terrifying scenarios. She mumbled nonsense words and tossed and turned, unable to find a comfortable position. At least, she was sleeping somehow. Even if it wasn't restful.

In the morning, the large stream of sunlight filled the room, forcing her eyes open. It was finally day.

Good for her. School was another prison, but it was better than the one that kept her awake most of nights.

She knew how her school day would go, even as she was new. Being a loner and getting no attention from anyone was the best. She avoided talking with others or joining groups. The only reason why she was going to school were her mostly A's and B's grades. And she didn't even study that much to get them, but she still did.

She entered the bathroom and dressed up quickly. Her clothes didn't include big options of wearing, so she went with baggy, knee-ripped jeans and a black t-shirt with words written in bold gold color: "STAY AWAY".

Ironic, this spoke volumes of what she wanted others to do.

Then she combed her hair, letting it hang over her shoulders. She picked her bag and her phone, then left the room.

As she stepped down the stairs, just a glance on her phone made her realize how damn late she was.

"God, I'm so late," she said, frustrated with herself.

Monica was already sitting on the couch, drinking her morning coffee. She looked up at Regan with the usual smile.

"Hey, at least drink something before you leave," her aunt called.

Regan nodded and poured herself a glass of milk in the kitchen. She swag it down quickly and waited outside for her aunt to drop her off.

The phone showed 08:47 when they finally arrived. She had seen the school before on photos but was slightly nervous to go inside herself.

So Monica accompanied her inside until they found a teacher that led Regan to the chemistry lab. Her aunt left then, leaving Regan standing right before the door.

Now, she wasn't only worrying about the excuses of being late but also if she had to introduce herself to the class.

With a deep breath that didn't help, she knocked twice and opened the door slowly to reveal a whole class staring at her like she was some sort of alien.

"Excuse me? Who are you?" the teacher who was standing near the board asked.

The words eluded Regan for a moment, not liking the way she was being stared at.

"I'm Regan Miller," she answered, trying to swallow her anxiety.

"Oh, you're the new girl," the teacher said but from her expression one could tell she was annoyed. "Already late on your first day miss Miller?" she asked, slightly raising her voice.

"I'm sorry miss...I just moved in and had some work to do. It's not going to happen again."

The class laughed, but Regan didn't look at them.

"Fine, miss Miller, I'll forgive this time because you're new but next time you won't do so easily. No one dares to come late in my class," she emphasized the last sentence, "now go sit somewhere."

Regan did as told and started looking for a seat. A hard task because of all eyes following her.

To her luck, there was an empty seat at the end of the class which was near the window.

She sat there, feeling slightly relieved that the teacher hadn't said something like 'introduce yourself to the class'.

But noise had erupted now in the room, and she hated that it was about her.

"Silence!" the teacher yelled sternly at the class and it became quiet for a while, making Regan feel better that the attention had shifted.

She took notes from the bag and some pens. The topic on the board was 'Organic Chemistry' and she quickly got the hang of it and even answered a few questions that the teacher asked.

Again, the class started to babble for no specific reason. The teacher shut it up once more.

Meanwhile, Regan eyed her surroundings better. A girl before her, and a boy next to her who kept staring. She cursed under her breath. If there was something she hated after physical touch was getting stared at.

The hours passed and her next class was math, which she managed easily, just like any other subject.

It was lunch and all the students were out of class. She didn't even know where the cafeteria was.

In the school corridor, she saw where everyone was going, but seeing the big crowd there changed her mind. Maybe school was just emphasizing how detached she was.

Being hungry didn't help.

She tried to go past the crowded area, managing to stay away as much as possible, and wait in the long queue.

After what seemed like eternity, the cafeteria worker gave her a tray of food and a smile, noticing she was new. Regan returned the smile awkwardly and disappeared to sit on an empty table.

But the students eyes weren't lost on her, though. She didn't know why they couldn't mind their own business and leave her alone.

It had been going on for so long. Literally everywhere, and she didn't have any better thing to do. They had their own mind, their own eyes. And still, no matter how accustomed she'd gotten to it, she still didn't like it.

Just when she thought that was finally eating in peace, she noticed a tall girl, with red-colored hair ambling towards the table, two blondes behind her following.

"Hey, weirdo," she said, her eyes narrowing with a disdainful scorn, "What's with that scar?"

Her bluntness caught Regan off guard for a moment, but she had heard these words enough, "What is it to you?"

The girl arched an eyebrow, a sneer curling her full lips, "I'm just asking," she hissed, "You should be grateful someone as pretty as me is talking to someone as ugly as you."

The people in the background had had their attention shifted, and now their eyes were on them. Regan could feel a surge of defiance rise within her, but she had to keep her cool, "You think I care?" she shot back, voice stronger now.

"You won't talk like that to me," the other retorted, setting her soda on the table with a furious move, "I'm the principal's daughter, I can expel you whenever and wherever I want."

Regan leaned back on her chair, her nerves already fired, but she was in no mood for fights, "Get away from my table," she hissed back. But the girl didn't move, she just whispered something to the blonde one beside her.

Regan didn't want for them to speak, she stood up and left the cafeteria, leaving behind a trail of whispers and rumors.

The hallways were suddenly feeling too suffocating, so she decided she'd sit somewhere outside. She found an empty bench under a tree's shade and sat there, continuing to eat.

But there were footsteps heard, and she looked up to see another girl coming. Regan's frustration raised. Was she one of those jerks?

She had long brown hair, with bangs dyed in pink. Her clothes were fancy, a white long shirt underneath a black corset, tight black pants and black boots that reached her knees. Kind of different, considering most wore ankle boots and sneakers.

"Regan, right? We're in the same class," the girl spoke, her accent strange and unheard of.

Regan didn't notice her in the class. Maybe because she wasn't looking at anyone. Maybe because she was trying to escape the mocking eyes.

"Yes?"

"I'm Vesper," the girl replied, flashing a bright smile, "Nice to meet you."

Regan was caught aback by her smooth approach. She felt a weird feeling of suspicion for a moment, but quickly shoved it away, "Nice to meet you too," she said.

The girl stood there for a moment, as if in some daze, but shook her head. "Nice t-shirt," she remarked, noting Regan's shirt. The most apparent thing about that tee shirt, were the words written in bold, "STAY AWAY".

"You have a good fashion sense too," Regan replied, not trying what else to say. She had never been good at conversations, but she had been good at making them awkward.

"So, do you want to be friends?" Vesper asked, her smile never faltering as she leaned against the tree.

"Yeah, sure," Regan mumbled, though what she said mirrored nothing of what she thought.

"Great," Vesper said, her smile turning into a smirk, "Let's exchange phone numbers."

"Isn't it too fast for that?"

The other's expression didn't change, "We're classmates, girl. Of course, we're going to have each other's numbers. I'll give you mine, and you give me yours."

Regan reluctantly did as the girl said. They talked for a while, learning that they were neighbors. Vesper was keen on talking about herself, but just surface things. Her family, hobbies and interests.

Regan felt slightly uncomfortable at the thought that she'd have to talk about herself too. She wasn't someone with great hobbies and interests, apart from reading and singing sometimes.

The lunchtime passed, and with it, the school day. Regan left the building without looking back, not waiting until she'd get home.

But even as she thought she'd find a shelter of relief, the whole walk home, she felt perilous, like someone was following her.

She hated turning around, but she couldn't help the slight pang of fear forming. Her pace quickened and she held the house's keys in a self-defense position.

As soon as she reached home, Regan threw the bag on the floor, locked the door, and sighed. It was more a sigh from tiredness, than one from relief.

She decided to do her homework, to drift her mind off the uneasy thought. But it started to creep up again, like a vine tightening its grip.

She managed to get through her homework, though not that focused. When the aunt came home, Regan barely spoke about her school day, and didn't tell her about the red haired girl, or Vesper. It wasn't too important anyway.

After they finished dinner, Monica went to her room to do her work assignments and Regan played a game on her laptop. She didn't know if it was just her mind, but she could still feel a little unease in her chest. That feeling hadn't gone anyway.

She lay on the bed and tried to sleep, trying to not ignore the non-belonging feeling or the recent one about being watched. It was no use.

She took her phone, scrolling the net, sitting up a bit higher. A small sound clicked on the window and she immediately tensed, heart nearly stopping.

Jumping out of the bed, she swept the curtain aside, but there was nothing. Just the night, dark and cold, and a stray cat wandering through the streets.

"Oh God," she murmured to herself.

Sleep came much, much later, though she was still perturbed.