The Overseer

Author's Note:
This is a true story, but it was not told to me by a real person. 

Hey man, I gotta tell you something. But if I tell you this, then you have to promise me on God that you won't tell nobody else about this. And I don't need your judgment neither. I know it sounds crazy, but that's not me. You know me, you know I'm a regular dude trying to be good with God like the rest of us. Keep that in mind, okay?

So you know how a lot of schools are run like prisons, yeah? Metal detectors on every door. Doors leading outside of the school, that lock during the day even if they aren't supposed to. Whole place set up like a panopticon so a faculty member can stand on one spot and see everyone in the halls, right? Well, back when I was just starting out, I noticed one of those faculty dudes standing in that spot. From this little edge of blue tiles that rounded the corner into the next hall, you could see every single thing that happened all the way from Ms. Zaire's class all the way to Ms. Arnetta's. I walked through one of those hallways every day since I was four years old, but I never really thought about them or looked at the adults that would be there. And for some random reason one day, I just saw him.

Bruh, there were maybe fifty kids in the hallway with me, but this dude was looking right at me! Even at eight years old, I knew there was something odd about that. It made me stop dead in my tracks. I wasn't scared or anything, just confused.

He didn't say anything to me. Didn't even tell me to hurry up and get inside my class room. Man just looked at me with a mostly straight face. He had one of those frowns you can't really see, you know? It was a tired, bored look, like he'd been watching me for way longer than he wanted. But that boredom wasn't enough to make him look away. The man just kept staring at me.

Finally, I turned away. Walked into my class and took out my homework and did my best to focus. But I couldn't get him out of my head. I'd look up from my desk or away from the teacher all casual, right? And I'd just slightly move my eye in the direction of the window of my class's door. Each time I did that, I'd pull my eye away like lightning was running through it, because I would cross gaze with the man every single time.

Before you even start all that, no it wasn't an accident nor a coincidence. Yeah, you can accidentally look into someone's eyes. I do it all the time and I know you do, too. But this was different. I could feel that he didn't just happen to be looking in my direction, he was looking at me! He was always looking at me.

You know what I did? I just made up my mind not to look at him. Somehow I thought that maybe he only looked at me when I was looking at him. I started making real good grades after that. I would be so set on not looking at this dude that I refused to look away from my teacher or my books.

Then there was this one day, and I think Khalil told you this story before, when this fight broke out during a stormy day with a substitute teacher. It wasn't a real fight, just a bunch of us boys acting like we had no home training, screaming and fussing and throwing shit everywhere. Whole class got involved, and the substitute just ran around the room screaming at us to stop. Once we'd all settled down, she turned in her report to the office, and they sent Mr. Wallen down to see us. You already know the stories about him. A big, black, tank of a man who we only saw whenever we'd done something really bad.

Bruh, when I tell you that man screamed at us! I can still feel the vibrations going through the air and hitting my bones. I remember the tears I was forced to hold back while I silently prayed that this man did not call home and tell my parents what all we'd gotten into. Mr. Wallen didn't care, I don't even think he noticed. He just kept shouting and fussing about how we were the worst class in the school, how we were acting like animals, and how we'd better learn quick before we grew up and got beat down for acting the way we did. I remember seeing kids squirming in their chairs, picking their hair out, and straight up crying as Mr. Wallen's gross, sweaty body shook with the booms of his voice.

The man was there, too. I knew he was watching me because I could feel it in my spirit. But I'd gotten used to ignoring that feeling. He stood right behind Mr. Wallen and to his right. And he was looking dead at me, too. He didn't look bored this time, though. The whole time Mr. Wallen screamed at us, the man was standing confidently with his chest out. Hands on his hips and in that blue shirt he always wore, he looked more like some cliché comic hero than a school worker.

The man was smiling then. In my whole life I've only seen him smile one other time. And Imma get to that in a minute, but not right now. It was one of those sincere, closed-mouth smiles, like a man seriously trying to restrain himself and not show how happy he is. He was looking at me, grinning, and basically announcing to the world how much he loved watching me be uncomfortable. He liked seeing Mr. Wallen torture me specifically, and he wanted me to know that.

You know what the crazy part is, as unnerved as I was by dude looking at me, I was more scared of Mr. Wallen. He was this big tower over all of us, and just him screaming so harsh made me really believe that he could do anything he wanted to us and get away with it. The dude just watched me, but Mr. Wallen filled me with terror all the time. I would pray at night that Mr. Wallen wouldn't find some reason to shout at me in the mornings. Things are different now, and I don't fear Mr. Wallen more than I fear the dude. I just hate him more.

I got off track. My mistake. Preciate you for listening to all my whinning. I say that because this is where it's about to get real twisted. I promise you I'm not crazy.

After that day with Mr. Wallen in the class, I tried even harder not to get into trouble and keep my grades up. And I kept up my resolve not to look at the dude. But I'd always break eventually, and every time I did, I'd see that same face peering at me from under his black hat. Everyday I was jittery and nervous because I knew that he was watching me and only me. I didn't know why, and I didn't really want to know, I just wanted him to stop. But I wasn't brave enough to tell anyone about it, because somehow I knew that doing so would call too much attention to me and make the problem worse.

I think I was around twelve when the nightmares started. Most boys start dreaming about Rhianna or Android 18 at that age. I was dreaming about the dude. But in my dreams, he didn't just stare at me. He glared at me. I'd be walking down the hall and he would suddenly jump up with a horrible rebel yell and tackle me. His full sized, adult body would pin me down, and his vice like grip would go straight for my arms, or my leg. Or even my neck. My brain imagined all kinds of awful positions he'd put me in, some too messed up for me to even think about.

He'd beat me a lot in my dreams. Mostly with sticks and belts, but sometimes he'd just punch the shit out of me over and over. Blood would pool on the tiles of the school hallways, and little bone fragments would bounce with a 'click' here and there. In my dreams I would struggle for air as I choked on my own blood, vomit and spit. I would beg and plead for him to stop but the man wouldn't. He just wanted to make me hurt, and I couldn't tell if it was because he was sadistic or because he hated me.

Eventually I stopped sleeping as much. I stayed up studying or playing videogames, though usually it was the latter. It's to the point now that I can't sleep at night, you know that better than anyone. I can only sleep during the day, but even then I still get the nightmares every once in a while.

I think those dreams affected how I saw the man over time. I remember once, in middle school, I was walking with friends down the hallway and I just so happened to see him out the corner of my eye. I was more than shook, I was shaken. In the back of my head I knew that he was still watching me, but consciously I didn't think that he'd actually follow me to a different school. I think that's when I realized I wasn't as smart as everyone said I was. I mean, I'd convinced myself that he wasn't there even though I knew he was, and then instead of acting cool when I saw him, I legit stopped dead in my tracks and started to cry like a simp. It's pathetic when you think about it.

I tried everything to feel safer. I went to the preacher, and the preacher told me that the Lord would take care of it. I went to the preacher again and he said that God's work cannot be rushed. I went to the preacher again, and he said that the Lord was testing me, and I could not buckle to fear. I went to the preacher again and he laid healing hands on me to banish the demons from my soul. I think I stopped going to the preacher after he started asking me what sins I committed to make the Lord put these horrors in my mind.

Eventually I got it in my head that the only way I was going to be safe was if I was connected. I was known to my neighborhood and they largely took care of me, but that wasn't enough. My older cousins were in a small gang, mostly focusing on protection and a little running here and there. Best they could offer me for free and without asking questions was a knife, but they also taught me how to use it, so I felt safe for a while. I had a knife, I had niggas that had my back, and I was making some pocket change that kept me with a Nintendo console. Things were okay.

And then I saw the man again! He was just watching me, again! I wasn't even in school, I was just walking down the street by myself, about to go relax at home. I heard a friend of my mom's call me, so I turned to wave at her. Right when I was turning back, a glimmer hit my eye. It was the reflection off his sunglasses.

That was the first time I ran away from the man. From zero to sixty like a cat was named Chester! I prayed to god and the Air Jordan manufacturers that I would get home safe. But every time I turned my head, I saw the man standing behind me with that same bored, slight frown on his face.

I nearly passed out when I hit the outside of my building. Haunched over and dying for air, I didn't even bother going inside. From between my legs I could see his familiar black shoes some distance off. Though I didn't even need to see it, really. I could feel it all the same. I always felt the feeling of his eyes on me, I just didn't like to admit it to myself.

I started laughing. After all that running, he was still there. What good was there in trying so hard in PE? What was the point of having niggas and a knife if it didn't do anything to save me when I needed it most? I'd outrun ops taking shots at me, and my cousins and their boys helped me jump a nigga that had been giving me a hard time in school. But even that wasn't enough to stop this monster.

I left the gang after that. There was no point in staying, but also because of this new kick I was on. I thought that I could make bargains with God, you know? Stay out of trouble and the dude would go away. Get good grades and the dude would go away. Get a good job and the dude would go away. None of it worked, but I kept making those deals. I find it hard to remember a time when I didn't reference the dude during my prayers. Now that I think of it, I'm not even sure if I started the prayers before or after I saw him on the street.

I know I said I'd get back to the other time I saw the guy laugh, but first I wanted to tell you about the first time I got close to the man. This was right before college, back when I was working at a dollar store. Being a cashier is one of the scariest jobs in the world, man. Even when I would walk around with actual drugs in my pocket, I wasn't that scared of being robbed. Cuz if I was robbed on the street, no one would say that I did it. I counted my money four times in a row just to be sure it was right, and I always counted out the change for my customers. The last thing I needed was my till coming up wrong and someone accusing me of stealing.

One day, the man just walked up to the register. Like it was the most normal thing ever. My mentality was much the same as it is now, and I'd just accepted the man as a part of my life, but I was still surprised. He usually kept a good distance between us, but on that day he was right up at my register.

So I thought, "Hey, this could be my chance." And I looked to his chest, where he kept his tag. I'd hoped that if I knew his name, then maybe I could get an idea of who he was, and maybe figure out how to finally get rid of him. You can probably guess he didn't have a name. The little badge only had a number on it.

I asked him what he wanted. He didn't say anything. I looked around the store, but there was no one there to interrupt us, or at least confirm that the man had been there. I was all alone at my register, and the man didn't show any sign of wanting to leave.

The man continued to look at me with a bored, tired frown. I looked back at him with a nervous face. My eyes darted back and forth, and I felt my body making small jumps in terror and anxiety. He looked down at the counter, away from me for the first time ever. I couldn't believe it: he was actually letting his eyes fall on something that wasn't me! I followed his gaze to the spot he was looking at. It was two crisp, clean, one-dollar bills next to my register.

I tried to explain that I hadn't stolen them, that a customer had only left them there after refusing to take change. I was going to put it back in the register as soon as my supervisor came through with the key. I don't think he cared. He stood there, leaning against the counter and listening to me stutter like a fool. Eventually my rant just trailed off and stopped. It didn't really end, I remember being half through my sentence when my voice grew softer and softer until I wasn't making any sounds at all. I didn't need to finish my thought, I knew he wouldn't care.

Once I stopped talking, he just looked at me for a bit longer. Then he stood up and walked away. I told my supervisor about the two dollars and she said I could just keep it if I wanted.

And then there was yesterday. This is the part of the story that you know. Remember me giving that valedictorian speech? I don't know if you noticed, but at the end when I was about to walk away, I faltered a bit. Because in the front row of the crowd, I saw a black hat, sunglasses, and a shiny badge pinned to a blue shirt. He was there, watching me graduate!

And he had a huge smile on his face. He clapped at the end of my speech. I could actually hear his claps sharper and clearer than anyone else. I stared at him the entire time I took up my seat again. And then I stared at him some more from the seat. He'd transformed me into the one that watches, and he'd watch me right back through his black sunglasses. When the Dean called my name and I shook her hand, all I could think about was that man. And then, as I stepped a way from the Dean and circled my way back to the graduate's seats, I bumped into him.

He was still smiling. My jaw hung to the floor and my eyes were wide, but he was smiling. He grabbed my hand against my will, and pulled it up and down in an awkward shake. Then he pulled me in real close and whispered in my ear, "I have seen you accomplish so much over all this time. I can't wait to see how far you get to go."

I think that's interesting, you know? I think he was legitimately happy that I accomplished so much. I can't tell if it's because he sees my success as something he caused, or something I achieved in spite of him, but I can tell that he's impressed in a way. Or maybe impressed isn't the right word. Amused. I think he just finds it funny that I achieved so much.

And then there's that second part. "I can't wait to see how far you get to go." That's weird, right? Who says that? It sounds innocent but when you think of it...

The question I have to ask myself—the question that's been in my mind all night—is really two questions. What person or power is controlling how far I get to go, and why did I just assume that it was dude?