Creepypastas

Keep Watching

His face never changes. It's pale white. His eyes are grey, empty. Wide. So fucking wide. I can't take my own eyes off of them and because I can't, I feel them painfully dry up, just as his should. But they don't. He never closes them. He's always, always watching.

His smile. That godforsaken smile. Just like his eyes. So impossibly wide... His teeth aren't touching, it's an open smile. I can see the black pit where his throat begins, always waiting for something sinister to crawl out. His teeth clamp down just as I think I can see something moving behind them. They're sharp. But why are they spotted with red?

He's always there. His aberrant long fingers leave my windows steamed up in their shape. He'll stroke the glass a few times, but that's only before he'll start impatiently tapping it with each of his five individual yellow-pungent nails. Consecutive taps starting from pinky to thumb. He's waiting. Waiting for me to look away. But I can't. What will he do if I look away?

I can't sleep. I might not make it until morning if I fall asleep now. Just keep watching. He won't do anything if I keep watching.

My eyes are getting heavy. I don't know how much longer I can stay awake. My lids are fluttering so much. It's like watching an old film. Watching him fade slowly in and out of frame.

Black. I've closed my eyes. I realize after a mere two seconds, but it seems it's too late. I'm staring at an empty window. I could see where he huffed his warm breath against the thin, transparent panel, but it didn't last in the cold. The formed condensation slowly disappears, and as does my previous minuscule sense of security.

Even if I'd been tired, I'm awake now, trembling. My body feels like it's both been set aflame, and buried with ice. I feel so numb that I can't move. My wide eyes form tears and I start to cry. I can't stop, though I'm as silent as I can manage. My teeth grit to hold in my pathetic whimpers, the strain proving too much for my head. It's throbbing with pain, I want to cry out, but I can't.

I keep my eyes open, staring forward from the wooden wall I was backed up into; glaring to the window. Being able to see him there had been some source of comfort, but now he's gone. Where is he? I'm scared...

I sit, tugging my knees close to my pounding chest. I bring up my nerve-rattling hands to bury my eyes into them, rubbing them dry. For a second, I can't see.

I feel something brush against my shoulder, leaving my heart to sink and my cries to drown silent. I'm hesitant, but I remove my hands from my eyes until I stare into my lap. It's so quiet that I can hear my own shuddering breath as if it were the loudest thing I'd ever been able to hear.

I eventually turn my head to look to the floor at my side. Nothing.

Click.

Just when I thought I'd been feeling my worst. I let out another baffled whimper, having a hand swipe away a single tear that sprinted along my flustered cheek.

My eyes move across the floor and towards the door leading to the passage-way. It's cracked open. I wait for it to be pushed open further, the anticipation making me nauseous.

Ah. There. Pale, but dirty and familiar aberrant fingers protruded from the side of the slightly opened entryway. They tapped onto the wood just above the golden turning handle. Consecutively from pinky to thumb.

I watch his fingers with eyes that grow dim. Although I'm scared, I've accepted my fate. I can't be saved. I muster a sarcastic, short laugh at my misfortune, softly banging the back of my head into the wall I leaned back against.

"I give up..."

I close my eyes.