He Felt

He felt everyone’s eyes on his every movement, action, reaction, expression. He felt his shoulders hunch over to hide from it — the hiding place that never wins. He felt his arms tense, his neck twist, his eyes searching for their eyes, the desire to know who was looking, to know who was out there.

The call had come right before he went to sleep — before he felt any of those things. She couldn’t speak through her tears so someone else took the phone. It was a man, and after he hung up he questioned that man’s identity. Did he say his name? He couldn’t remember. Did he say he was he a cop or an EMT? Was he posing as one of these? Should he trust him? He never felt that way before.

He drove to the street he thought the man mentioned on the phone. It wasn’t a far drive in other circumstances. But now, stop signs felt like years and red lights like decades. Each time he hit the brake his urgent body twitched; he tapped the steering wheel and shook his legs, anticipation spewing out.

Two police cars flashed blue and red on the seven people standing around as an ambulance flew by. He threw the car in park and rushed to them. He was stopped by one of the cops, who was taking a statement from someone.

A witness. That’s good. That has to be good. He thought.

“Which hospital? Is she okay? Where is she going?” he asked someone else.

They thought she may have gotten a concussion; they weren’t sure if she’d hit her head on the way to the ground after he struck her. That seemed to be the biggest concern — a bystander stepped in before it got worse. After getting the answers he needed, he left the scene and went back toward his car.

He dropped his keys on the pavement. The cement was cold; he hoped she hadn’t been lying there long. His hand shook so fast he couldn’t press the unlock button before the keys fell from his grip a second time. The cold concrete road brushed his fingers again and froze his body. He put his hands through his hair, breathed in and out. Against his will, his breath quickened and he couldn’t slow it down. He needed to move, to shake this off.

He walked down the road to steady himself before driving to her. A few other people walked the streets too, likely unaware of what happened just blocks away. The streetlights barely lit the path in front of him; he never noticed their dullness before. It scared him.

He felt everyone’s eyes on his every movement, action, reaction, expression. He felt his shoulders hunch over to hide from it — the hiding place that never wins. He felt his arms tense, his neck twist, his eyes searching for their eyes, the desire to know who was looking, to know who was out there.

He never felt that before that night.

But she did.