Yes, I Can See You

Elizabeth James was used to walking home alone. Streetlights blinked in broken intervals, her shoes tapping rhythmically against the pavement. But that night, the rhythm doubled. A second set of footsteps followed hers—too close, too deliberate.

She stopped. The echo stopped.

“Hello?” she called out, her voice steadier than she felt.

Nothing.

She forced a laugh and started walking again, faster this time.

Oh Elizabeth. Enough nonsense, You are alone. As always.

But then came the whisper, low and right beside her ear:

“You can see me?”

Her heart dropped. She spun, eyes scanning the empty street. No one. Not a shadow, not a shape.

I am just imagining it. But I must answer.

“I—no,” she stammered. “I can’t see you.”

The air shifted, pressing closer, like someone standing inches from her face.

“Good,” the gravelly voice said, pleased. “That means I’ve been doing it right.”

Elizabeth James sprinted down the sidewalk, stumbling occasionally on cracks in the sidewalk, unable to see in the waning light. In just a moment, Elizabeth James was fumbling for keys to unlock her apartment.

“You still can’t see me?” the voice said suddenly, so close as if someone was breathing down her neck.

CLICK. Elizabeth James flung the door open and then slammed it behind her. The apartment was dark and gloomy as if it was empty. But Elizabeth James knew it was not empty.

“Late. Again.” hissed a voice, “I am very disappointed in you, Elizabeth. Did you bring what I needed?”

“I am sorry, Auntie. Writing club ended late. I didn’t have time to go to the bank.”

“What did you call me?”

“I am sorry, Queen.”

“Now, Elizabeth,” began the woman, Elizabeth’s aunt, “If you don’t get me the money by morning, I say, you will have no more writing class. Understood?”

“Auntie, I mean, Queen, why can’t you do it?” Elizabeth James frowned and lowered her head, refusing to look at her aunt even in this dim light.

“I say, you know plenty well why.” Her aunt grinned, “I am not able to be invisible, and you are. I say, need I say more?”

“No, Queen. I will go tonight.” Elizabeth James felt a heavy breath in her ear.

“And I will come with you,” it whispered.

“STOP!” shouted Elizabeth James suddenly.

“Are you speaking to me in such a cruel way?” Her aunt demanded menacingly.

“No,” disconcertedly, Elizabeth James turned away, heading for the door.

“Fine. But, before you go, do the dishes. I say, do them quickly and then make me some coffee and give me a quick foot massage.”

“But!”

“No, buts. NOW!” shouted her aunt.

Elizabeth James trudged towards the tiny kitchen, which reeked of spoiled milk and burnt rice. Angrily, she gazed at the looming pile of dishes, stacked almost to the ceiling. She took the grimy, crumbly sponge and wiped it across the surface of the stained plate. Listening to the TV’s hum, Elizabeth James degreased and scrubbed every dish, which she estimated was over thirty. That took over half an hour and after that, she made a cup of coffee for her aunt.

I hope it tastes as foul as you, Elizabeth James thought, plastering a smile on her face as she handed the cup to her aunt. Hoping her aunt had forgotten about the horrid foot massage, she crept to the door.

“I say, nuh-uh! Quick, pull off my shoes and socks and rub my feet, NOW!” her aunt’s voice displayed a sign of warning, like a surging tide.

“Fine,” grumbled Elizabeth James under her breath. She tugged off the sneakers and then stripped the socks off of her aunt and then held her breath, forcing herself not to inhale the stench. Elizabeth James squeezed and rubbed her aunt’s feet for a dreadful five minutes before slipping away.

“Good-bye!” called her aunt in a mocking tone.

Okay. Now… I better get to the bank before the night guards get there.

CRASH! Elizabeth James spun around and let her eyes dart from east to west, and from north to south.

“Where are you? IS THIS MY IMAGINATION?!” shouted Elizabeth James, flinging her head back, letting her auburn hair blow in the wind. Her stunning blue eyes dashed from side to side, determined to locate this voice.

“You can see me?” whistled the voice again. This time, Elizabeth James didn’t answer. She bolted to the bank and in a moment she was standing in front of it, her chin held high, ready to get her task over with. She recalled her aunt’s words: You better get me that money. Bring it here, and perhaps the cruelty will stop.

In a moment, Elizabeth James was invisible.

She picked the lock on the stiff, clunky, bank doors. She slipped inside and surveyed the situation.

Only three guards today. Should be easy. But I don’t want to do this… I have to.

The game had begun.

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Elizabeth James stepped into the night, the bag of money heavy at her shoulder. The streetlights flickered overhead, broken and uneven, yet again, casting long, jittering shadows. Behind her, she could feel the whisper of the voice — impatient, omnipresent, lingering like smoke — but she did not answer.

She had done what was asked. She had survived the bank, the invisible corridors, the cruel demands. And yet, for the first time, she felt a flicker of control. The night belonged to her, if only for a moment.

The streets were empty again. The echo of footsteps that had haunted her all evening were silent, but still not gone. She breathed in the cold air, sharp and real, and allowed herself a small, victorious smile.

Some debts were never about money. Some were about power, control… fear. But for now, Elizabeth James had taken one step beyond it all. The whisper at her ear had followed but was silent— or perhaps it had, waiting, patient, for another night.

Elizabeth James kept walking. The bag was heavy, the night was dark, but she was visible. And in that, she found freedom.

Suddenly, she fell to the ground and felt icy fingers pressing her face down.

“You must listen,” the voice hissed.

It’s back. I thought the voice had left. Is this truly my imagination?

“What?” Elizabeth James struggled to speak but held her head down, so the person couldn’t touch her throat.

“You aren’t safe with that… queen. Come with me… now.” The person had its face pressed against her own. Elizabeth James felt her entire lean body shaking under the immense weight of the person on her.

“Now, can you see me?” said the voice menacingly. Elizabeth James closed her eyes and prepared to spring up.

“Yes, I can see you.” she whispered heavily.

“NOW STOP!” Elizabeth James flung the person’s body off of her and heard a bang a few feet ahead of her. She scampered and felt for the body again. But there was nothing there. Nothing.

It’s gone.

Elizabeth James dusted herself off, smiling slightly, feeling giddy with victory.

The street swallowed her silhouette, the city hummed around her, and for the first time in a long while, she felt… untouchable.