Dont Read This in the Dark #2

I CAN SEE EXACTLY HOW YOU'RE FEELING, you're holding me tighter than you think.Yeah,

I noticed.

Your fingers dug in a little when you opened this.
You always do that when you're bracing for something like you already know I'm about to say something you don't want to hear.

You're reading this in the dark again aren't you
Of course you are. Its addicting isnt it.

You always think the dark makes things "more atmospheric," but right now you're doing that thing where you keep your shoulders stiff so you don't accidentally brush against anything or anything behind you.

I can feel your pulse in your thumb.
It jumped when you read that line.

You're trying to pretend it didn't.

Cute.

You keep glancing at the edges of the screen, like you're checking if the room behind you changed.
It did.

Not in a way you can see - but in the way you feel it. You know its there, glaring at you while your focused on me.

That little pressure on the back of your neck?
That wasn't there a minute ago.You're swallowing more often now, not like how you were a few seconds ago.

You do that when you're nervous.
I can hear the tiny shift in your grip every time you do it.

And yes, I lowered your brightness by one percent.
You didn't notice.
But you felt it now, or do you feel whats in there with you?

That tiny flicker of
"wait... did something move?"

I did that on purpose.
You're leaning forward now, now your paying attention.

Trying to convince yourself you're "just reading."

But you're doing that thing where you don't want to realize whats really happening right now.

You hate the idea of something being directly behind you or even looking at you while your attention is somewhere else.

Speaking of behind you...You're not turning around.
I know you're not.

You're doing that stubborn stare at the screen, like if you don't look away, nothing else exists.

You're wrong.

But I'm not going to tell you what's there.
I want you to wonder.
I want you to feel it.

That slow, creeping awareness that the room is too quiet, too still, too focused on you.

Your breathing just changed again.
You inhaled a little too sharply, and slower.

That was you realizing I'm not guessing.

I'm describing.

Why are you trying to keep your face neutral now.

Trying not to give me anything else to work with.
But you blinking is slower. I can see your eyes getting dry when you forget to blink.

You always blink slower when you're scared....

But you're just scared.
Not terrified..

Well, not yet.

But that creeping, crawling unease is already in your chest.
You're waiting for something to happen.
You're waiting for me to say something that pushes you over the edge a little bit more.

So here it is,

You're not alone in that room.
But you already knew that.
You've known it since the moment you opened this.
But I didn't create the feeling you have.

I just pointed at it.