There once was an old couple, Anxiety and Misophonia. They’ve lived for centuries, never aging, though Anxiety has always been the most popular of the two, while Miso hung back, preferring to spend its time hidden in the shadows, while its lover danced in them. However, they were never liked by others.

They were always shunned and scorned by their peers, but they didn’t have a care in the world. You could say they were a twisted couple. They spent their time hunting down unsuspecting victims, latching onto them like parasites. The couple came in many forms, and different levels of intensity, but they were never any less despicable. I’m sure you thought this was going to be a love story, albeit a disturbing one, and you wouldn’t be far off, but no. The story I’m going to tell you is a horror story.

A girl walks down a bustling sidewalk through campus, noticing all the faces passing by, but for the most part her gaze is fixated on the path ahead. She’s afraid of eye contact, you see. Her class starts in a few minutes, so she must hurry, or else she’ll look like a slacker for being tardy, and then all who see her will look at her with exasperation. The professor will especially give her a scornful look...oh no, the professor cannot be disappointed. She picks up the pace.

A sigh of relief was released as she walked through the classroom doors, five minutes to spare. She takes a seat in the grand lecture hall, pulling out her pen and notebook, and waits for the lecture to begin.

Pop.

Her eyes widen, and slowly she turns her head to her left. She feels a sense of horror start to creep up her spine, through her bones, and every fiber of her being. There, sitting just three seats away, was another girl, but she barely noticed that fact or anything else about her. All she saw was the girl’s mouth, chewing, chewing, s m a c k i n g. And then, another ‘pop’ resonated from her mouth, and rang throughout the lecture hall.

Slowly, she turned back to face the front again, but she could still hear the smack, smack, smack. It was all she could hear. Apparently, the professor had already started, but it was barely noticeable. That girl was still doing it. She wouldn’t stop. She would never stop. The whole lecture was ruined now.

Smack, smack, smack.

Her breathing began to pick up, her heart began to race. Her hands that lay on her lap clinched into tight fists, fingernails digging into her skin, threatening to break through the surface. She swallowed, eyes fixed on the powerpoint ahead of her, but she didn’t see it. It was just her and that girl, together in a padded room.

Suddenly, a disturbance crescendoed to her right, easing its way into her awareness. She glanced out of the corner of her eye toward it, and saw a man tapping his feet on the floor. Her eyes darted forward again, the fear in them building in intensity.

Smack, smack, smack.

Tap, tap, tap.

The edges of her consciousness began to fade to black. Air was getting harder to come by. An outside force seemed to constrict her sides. Her fists had unclenched, and were now gripping her thighs, digging into them, clawing at them...clawing for an escape, any escape from the turbulent winds that whirled around in her mind and the outside forces that drove it. But she couldn’t. All the air was being sucked out of her and thrown into the violent vortex of chaos. A tempest...a tornado.

Breathe...just breathe.

I c a n ‘ t.

Relax, you have to breathe. Tune it out, and just breathe. Deep breaths in, and out.

I c a n ‘ t b r e a t h e.

You have to try. It’ll be okay, it’s only temporary. Breathe.

H e l p m e.

In...out...in...out.

I w a n t t o s c r e a m.

Stop.

. . .

Her screams filled the lecture hall as she gripped her head with her clawed hands, head thrown back toward the heavens as the blood curdling sound left her gaping mouth. Every inch of her was screaming, pleading for the end to arrive. It wouldn’t. It never would. She would be stuck in this hell forever. There was no escape, and that’s why she kept screaming. There was no release.

The man looked over to her, his gaze suggesting disinterest in the course subject as he lazily watched her scribble notes down in her notebook, looking up every few seconds toward the powerpoint. Just another student copying notes, he observed, so he turned his inattentive gaze back toward the front of the hall.

She continued to write notes down, trying to focus and keep up with the professor as he lectured on, while her mind continued to scream toward the skies.

--

Finally, it ended. The torment was over as class wrapped up. She hurriedly put her things in her bag and made for the door. At last, she had escaped hell, but she knew deep down she would have to face the inferno again, and not just in that lecture hall.

The next morning, she awoke to her alarm. Turning it off, she slid out of bed, beginning her daily routine. Grabbing her bag, she turned toward the door, only to see two dark, spindly figures waiting for her; an old couple. Their gangly hands were joined together as they stared at her expectantly. She stared back, neither surprised nor concerned. She simply acknowledged them, before heading to the door, and closing it behind them.

Another day.